Feed A Cold

My mother had a saying, "Feed a cold, starve a fever." If we were ill with a fever, she gave us liquids but no food. If we just had a cold, food was okay. I'm not sure where she got this bit of folk wisdom, but it's still with me today.

I came down with a nasty cold/flu/whathaveyou last week and it was miserable. I hate colds anyway, but this one was particularly nasty, complete with aching muscles, constant sneezing, nose running like Niagara, pounding headaches, sinuses so painful my teeth ached, and weakness. Nothing to say about that except, "UGH!"

My Beloved was sweetly solicitous, letting me sleep whole days away without complaint, cooking his own meals when I couldn't face eating, doing dishes, buying extra boxes of Kleenex, and sympathizing nicely. Husbands, or men who aspire to be husbands, take note. You, too, can become a hero.

When my head cleared slightly and my appetite began to return, I was hungry for some serious food. Bland food is recommended for people with colds - chicken soup, etc. and I did enjoy the Wor Wonton soup that My Beloved picked up from the local Chinese restaurant - it did wonders for my sinuses. But, by now I was starting to feel human again, and I wanted something I could actually taste. 

His brilliant idea of chicken fajita/soft tacos was perfect. While he nipped down to the market for tortillas and a Roma tomato, I grated some of that Wisconsin cheese, sliced one of the ripe avocados from our care package, shredded some lettuce, sliced a green onion, threw out two fuzz-covered jars of salsa and found the one that was still fresh, rummaged around for the Cholula hot sauce, chopped the cilantro, and grilled sliced strips of chicken breast coated with fajita seasoning. By the time he returned, we had only to warm the tortillas, pile in the goodies, and eat.

The hot sauce was just enough to open my stuffy nose, allowing all those good aromas and flavors in. I have never been so grateful for hot peppers in all my life. After a week of food that tasted like cotton (with the exception of that wonderful Wor Wonton soup), this was a major feast for the senses. 

Whenever we kids would sneeze, my mother would aim a mock-stern look at us and say in her best martinet manner, "Stop that!"  She always hoped it would be enough to frighten off a possible cold. I wish she had been here to ward off this one but at least I can still hear her saying, "Feed a cold..."