It’s been some kind of week. Wally was sick, of course, and home from school for two more days after trapping me for the duration of his long Tuesday nap. We arrived home at 4:30pm this afternoon to find we were out of milk, out of trash bags, and that some moron had decided the evening’s dinner should be “gourmet ramen,” which we’ve never made before.
Caroline and I started to chop shiitakes and Jay and Wally decided to compare the number of coins in their respective plastic treasure chests (which had been acquired as promotional giveaways at a minor league baseball game this summer). Comparing your bank account to your sibling’s turns out to be as bad an idea at age five as it is at thirty-five. Wally’s no financial genius, but he quickly noticed a gaping discrepancy between his pile of booty and his brother’s. There was some wailing, some grabbing for Jay’s coins, and finally some feverish promises from me that I’d get him a bigger stack of pennies. (Come to think of it, maybe Wally is a financial genius after all.)
Anyway, the soup. As the chicken was broiling in its brown sugar and soy sauce marinade, I was preparing in my mind to write a post about the obvious disaster that unfolds when you venture outside of your culinary safe zone at the end of a week in which everyone’s been sick. But no! The soup was incredibly easy to make and turned out quite well. The broth simmers with a hearty amount of fresh ginger, which establishes a solid foundation of flavor, and then all the add-ins require little prep and taste good: the broiled chicken, chopped mushrooms, spinach, and rice noodles.
Jay and Wally liked the soup and were appropriate with their chopsticks, if not entirely effective, for much longer than expected. Afterward, Caroline gave the boys a bath while I cleaned up and listened to Pink on the hi-fi. All told, I’m ready to say we played this week to a draw.