“I made this soup last night for dinner called Superfoods soup,” my physical therapist told me yesterday as I was shaking and struggling through another round of strengthening exercises for my leg. We’d been talking recipes for a few minutes and the distraction was helping me to keep going.
“What’s in it?” I asked. “”Did your kids eat it?” I added.
“They loved it,” she answered. She has two boys, ages 8 and 11.
She rattled off the list of ingredients and procedures as I finished my third set of an exercise that is too complicated for me to try to explain.
Carrots, onion, celery, curry powder, diced tomatoes, water, sweet potato, chickpeas, coconut milk, kale. It sounded delicious. My fifty-three year old brain tried hard to commit it all to memory. My not so strong fifty-three year old leg had other ideas.
By the time I had finished lifting and shifting and turning and bending my leg for an hour, I’d forgotten most of what needed to be in and happen to make Superfoods soup. I limped to the car and thought, “Maybe I can Google it.”
Google. It’s the best. Late today I tracked down the recipe, printed it out, and headed to the store to gather the ingredients.
Superfoods soup. It’s what’s for dinner. (Maybe it will improve my memory.)