Love like soup.

Because I like to cook, and perhaps more because some might describe me as a little possessive of my kitchen, it's not often that others prepare home-cooked meals for me. When it does happen (and it does happen and I cherish every moment), I am always grateful. It's inspiring to see how others work in the kitchen, what kinds of dishes they are driven to create. Selfishly, I'm often most thankful for the opportunity to truly sit back and relax, a task I find difficult and surrender to only with force or wine. It's occurred to me that this is one reason cooking for others gives me such joy: it's a gift of time and a sign of affection. Feeding someone is one of the most thoughtful things we can do. It's love in action.

When my friend Chris arrived at work Sunday with a bag in tow, I thought he'd brought himself dinner. So imagine my surprise when he handed it to me and said, "I have a gift for you." Inside was a container of caldo verde, a Portuguese soup made with garlic, kale, potatoes, onions and chorizo. I had never heard of it, but it sounded downright dreamy and the perfect antidote to the rain that had been falling hard for what felt like weeks. Leaving work Sunday, I cradled my bag of soup to my chest, and rushed it to the safety of my own kitchen, where I reheated it late yesterday afternoon, adding some crusty bread and a few meaty olives.

And boy, did I feel special. I'd been out -- again, in the rain -- since morning, and I was cold and wet and exhausted. Warming the soup took less time than the toast, and I savored the extra minutes by standing over the warm stove, inhaling deeply the smokey aroma. The soup itself was light and simple. Chris later told me he'd pureéd the soup base of garlic, potatoes, onion and sausage, then added thin chiffonades of raw kale, which retained a little of their hearty texture and turned the soup a brilliant mossy green. I added a pinch of red pepper for color (and taste), and between that and the garlic, I felt alive.

I also felt inspired by the gesture. Forget muffins. Nothing says love like soup.