Hello! Welcome back to The Stone Soup Cook. I’m so glad to be back at my desk writing again, cooking again and sharing a little time with you.
I have been in Texas for the last couple of weeks trying to be of some help while my dad recovered from surgery. While minor, the surgery, anesthesia and dehydration took its toll on dad’s 87-year-old body; and instead of going home for rest, recuperation and lovingly prepared meals, dad went to the hospital for more than a week of round-the-clock care by highly trained professionals.
Mom and I stood by helplessly as doctors and nurses ran test after test. All we could do most days was stand by, hold his hand, pray and worry…we spent a lot of time worrying…and eating Blue Bunny chocolate ice cream…but more on that later.
Worry filled our minds day and night and once we’d worried a subject to death, a new worry would pop up to take its place. Naturally, this led to more Blue Bunny chocolate ice cream, but I digress.
For the first few days, dad was mostly unconscious, with only a very slow fluid drip as sustenance to his body. After about three days, I began to wonder how long the body would last before lack of real food would start to interfere with his body’s ability to function…and heal.
At about the 72-hour mark, the nurses told us they had gotten him to take his pills with some Blue Bunny chocolate ice cream–hallelujah! And the legend of the Bunny began! At about the 80-hour mark, dad was interactive enough to take a few sips of “Boost,” the nutritional supplement, and I was never so happy to see someone eat something in my whole life–I didn’t care what it was, but Boost seemed a good second step, after the miracle of the Blue Bunny, that is.
Although I was perfectly happy having him eat anything–ice cream, Boost, didn’t matter–I also knew that he needed to have something more wholesome to really start to build his strength back. Hospital food having the reputation that it does, I was worried that he would reject the food offered and mom and I were prepared to be satisfied with a nutritional supplement such as Boost to bridge the gap until we could cook him some real food. To my delight, the next day, he ate lunch and dinner and the next day, he ate all three meals. When he first started eating again, he couldn’t chew or hold utensils, so we ordered him a liquid diet, which he sipped through a straw.
The first meal that I saw arrive was some yogurt, some applesauce a Boost and a bowl of soup. I opened the soup, prepared to gag at the smell, and instead was met with a rich “chickeny” smell and a soup that, while pureed, still looked and smelled pretty good. It was pureed chicken and noodle soup, and to our delight, dad sipped the whole bowl down and said it tasted good. What a relief! The next meal was a tomato-basil soup that also smelled really good, and dad was happy to eat that one down, too. As the days went on, the nourishment began to do its work and dad became stronger and more interactive.
The episode was a good reminder of what nutritious food does for our bodies. The body is a marvelous machine, capable of incredible feats of brilliance, both mental and physical. Without proper fuel, however, especially when it is trying to heal a wound, the body falters and can’t keep up with the demands.
This week, I’m going to be highlighting several soups that helped my dad regain some of this strength, but with a Stone Soup twist to them.
The first recipe I’ll share is one for a chicken soup (a stew, actually) that helped Mr. Stone Soup and me turn the corner and regain our strength following our bought with Covid last year.
Tomorrow, I’ll feature this best-ever Stone Soup Tomato-Basil Soup:
Spoiler alert: this soup uses a quart of those tomatoes I canned with my friend Em back in September–and it’s so easy that I made it today for my lunch in 10 minutes–yep! 10 minutes. And that included the time it took to put together my grilled cheese sandwich for the ultimate rainy-day comfort lunch! So be sure to tune in tomorrow to get that recipe!
Until then,
Peace, love and good food,
Keri
