From scratch, I might add. After he made me a glass of freshly-squeezed O.J. and delivered it to the sick nest I had feathered for myself on the couch out of old sheets, pillows, and 5 year old back-issues of Saveur.
This man was serious about curing my ails.
I mean, he even hacked into chicken bones to make homemade stock.
I don’t know about you, but to me, nothing quite says love and romance like kitchen-counter butchering and homemade stock-making.
The massive piles of dishes leftover from his soup making adventures? Yes, he did indeed wash all of them while I wallowed in my nest recovering from our short morning walk to the market.
I am a lucky, lucky girl.
And speaking of our short-lived market run this morning, it proved to be the only photo-op for the day. This is the intersection near our house where I realized that perhaps the position for the day should be horizontal.
As opposed to say, vertical and making ice cream or homemade demi-glace or enjoying a wine tasting down the street with some new friends.
Ah, just as well. My comfy nest was built for two, with room to spare for some additional magazines and empty water glasses. So the soup-maker and I curled up in pjs to read and watch bad tv.
Which is a pretty nice way to spend a Saturday once in a while.
The soup was delicious, by the way. In fact, I think it might be working some sort of home-remedy magic.
Until next time, stay well and enjoy the weekend!