Well I’m just as high as Lenin right now. (I meant to write John Lennon but with my brain in revolutionary Russia Lenin just flowed out and I’m keeping it.)
No, not marijuana, cocaine, or heroin but turkey. Specifically turkey soup. More specifically turkey noodle and rice soup.
In her fantastic cook book, The Pleasures of Cooking for One, Judith Jones writes about the next lives a meal takes on from the left overs. My parents and I are big believers in this and this turkey soup is the third life of a multi-pound turkey. It started as a roast turkey served for our thirty guests gathered for my birthday five days ago. The next few days it was sandwiches consumed by me (wheat bread, turkey, cranberry sauce and stuffing) and then yesterday I spent the day inhaling the scent of the turkey carcass boiling in the large black pot. Today my father used the remaining turkey meat and this fresh broth to make a fantastic soup that I’ve had for two meals today.
A homemade turkey broth, slivers of turkey, rice and egg noodles. Perfect.
The dinner served up by my father tonight was simple, hearty and utterly satisfying. Besides a massive bowl of this lovely soup there were slices of a soft long bread with sesame seeds along the crust. And butter, so much butter. One of the greatest joys in my life comes from slathering salted butter onto a thick slice of bread and soaking it in the broth. Then I pop it into my mouth and lick the juices off my fingers.
And now I have a mug of Earl Grey tea, Selected Shorts (with Leonard Nimoy currently reading) on the radio and Downton Abbey on Masterpiece Classics coming up.
I’m just high.