This is my eldest daughter’s favourite soup and my youngest daughter’s least favourite one.  Its hard being a Mom sometimes.

Even though I and Sister #2 & 3 all make this, I don’t think that a recipe has ever been written down.  You can use left over chicken or turkey if you like.  I find that chicken thighs are a better choice than chicken breasts because there is still a trace of chicken fat on the thighs and the secret to good chicken soup is the chicken fat.  

4 boneless thighs (I know there are 8 in the photo-I was making a double batch), cooked and cut into bite-sized pieces

6 small or 4 large carrots, chopped

2 small yellow onions, chopped

2 large ribs celery or 6 celery hearts (I leave the leaves on), chopped

1 small pkg. chopped spinach

10 c chicken stock

1-2  t basil

1-2 t Montreal steak spice (you heard me right)

cheese tortellini, quantity according to taste (I say this because some people like their soup to be brothy and others more stewie), pre-cooked according to package directions

Place all veggies into a soup pot and saute until they sweat.  Add chicken, spices & chicken stock and bring to a boil.  Reduce heat and simmer until veggies are tender.  Add pre-cooked tortellini.  Ladle into large bowls and garnish with a sprinkle or shavings of Parmesan cheese. 

Kath’s quote: “Poultry is like meat, except when you cook it rare. Then it’s like bird-flavored Jello.”-P. J. O’Rourke

To make the journey from my cozy bed in Winnipeg to my precious Isla Mujeres is sometimes a breeze. It all depends on what times other planes set down and whether you luck out in the correct line for immigration and customs.  On this particular day, the journey was not too onerous but we still required cold cerveza for the ferry crossing and were hungry for lunch.  So after we wheeled our suitcases to the edge of Centro, we changed into our suits and made our way to Casa el Pio where the rest of our entourage was staying.

We were ecstatic to plunk down in the sand at Sergio’s, order more cold cervezas and gaze at the sea.  To top things off, handsome men started to come over and hug and kiss us (Lionel & Roger) and welcome us back to the island!   Why do I love Isla so, you ask?

We ordered breaded fish,

Chicken Maya

and my first taste of Coconut shrimp of that trip (but not the last).

The Garlic fish was so fresh, perfectly cooked and delicious!   We are always amazed by the quality of food that is put out of the little kitchen window right on the beach.

Kath’s quote:  “How good one feels when one is full — how satisfied with ourselves and with the world! People who have tried it, tell me that a clear conscience makes you very happy and contented; but a full stomach does the business quite as well, and is cheaper, and more easily obtained.”-Jerome K. Jerome

Do you ever get the craving to make something from your childhood that still retains that “old-fashioned taste”?  Such was the case when I found a huge bag of walnuts in my freezer.  This recipe is very similar to one that my Mom use to make.  They come out really hearty tasting and chewy-yum.

1 c flour
1/2 c butter 
2 eggs 
1-1/4 c brown sugar 
1 t baking powder
1 c walnuts, chopped
1 c shredded coconut 
1 t vanilla

I think that food is fascinating.  The is there the art of food, of which we are well aware, and the history of food and the science of food.  Food as an analogy is perhaps the most fascinating to me of all.  I am currently reading a novel entitled “The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake”  by Aimee Bender which is a haunting tale of a nine year old’s discovery that she can taste the emotions of the person who has prepared the food that she is consuming. 

In this theme, I have found a poem that is short enough to reproduce here.  It is penned by a writer named Joyce Rupp. 

can it be?

have I forgotten so long

forgotten to feed myself?

yes.

for nigh a year now

I was slowly starving.

getting lost in busy days,

tossing aside the hunger

that chewed away inside.

yet, I did not die.

by some quiet miracle

I made it to this moment

of truth:

I nearly starnved to death,

it was not my body

that I failed to feed.

it was my spirit,

left alone for days

without nourishment or care.

and then one day

I paused to look within,

shocked at what I found:

so thin of faith,

so weak of understanding,

so needy of encouragment.

my starving spirit cried the truth:

I can!

I will!

I must

be fed!