Cup of Ramen

Lovely Los Angeles, California

So, we've hit the point in my Covid pandemic movie, where the protagonist is seriously fraying at the edges. And one of those edges is about food. I have been prepping three meals a day since I came home from Carmel just eight months ago, almost to the day. This week, dinner devolved into soup. Pretty good soup. I made ginger chicken with rice soup on Sunday which lasted two days. On Tuesday, I made a tuscan white bean soup with sage from my garden. Two days. Tonight I had a Trader Joe's Miso Noodle Cup. Ok, I'm not a philistine. I followed my own version of the Roy Choi method, adding an egg yolk, a slice of American cheese, sliced scallions and sesame oil. There is a great debate about this recipe, specifically about the American cheese. People hate that. You know who those people are. They're the ones who write comments at the bottom of recipes on Food52 or New York Times online food site saying what a great recipe it was after they substituted every ingredient and changed most of the method. While I wouldn't eat processed cheese as a rule, in this case it does melt into the broth along with the egg yolk creating a creamy, non-cheesy soup. So, that was what I made, all plunked into a bowl and eaten with a ceramic Asian spoon. On the couch, which has more or less become my new dining room. The old dining room being where I now do aerobics. I did use a cloth napkin, one of my twelve days of Christmas set of... twelve. How many days of pandemic? About two hundred and fifty and counting.

My kitchen is now my workshop, the kitchen table taken up with Christmas cards and other miscellaneous stuff. But before the cup of ramen, before the soup, I was cooking for myself in a more substantial manner. I made enchiladas. I roasted chicken thighs with scallions. I tossed pasta with fresh tomatoes and basil from my garden. And... I'm tired of it. I'm tired of making oatmeal for breakfast. I'm tired of cooking. I'm tired of eating. I'm tired.

Aren't we all?

...and when I first wrote this post last month, that was where it ended. But being tired shouldn't be the end of this. Yes, we're all tired. Not many of us thought it would go on for so long. But we have been a resilient people. And, despite a very vocal minority, we are mostly a population of forthright, cooperative folk. My grandparents endured food rationing throughout the war. There was a gas shortage in the 70s, and you could only gas up on odd or even days depending on your license plate numbers. How many droughts have we always endured in California as well as ubiquitous wildfires throughout the west?  So, if part of the worst of it is soup and HBO for a night, or for three hundred nights; tomorrow the sun will rise on another opportunity to connect with good friends, to write, to anticipate better celebrations of all the holidays ahead. So, while I am spooning up oatmeal and soup like Oliver Twist (though with greater quantity), I am trying to channel Annie. The sun will come out tomorrow... or one of these tomorrows, damn it! And I want to be among the first in line to bring joy back into life: Dancing; laughing with friends; enjoying houseguests and Dodgers baseball, kneeling at Mass in gratitude. I called this post Cup of Ramen, but I should have called it Hang in There. There is more pandemic time behind us than ahead of us. The vaccine is on its way, but until it arrives we need to hang in there for awhile longer. Can we do this? YES WE CAN. Thank you for reading my blog.