Thursday morning No. 2.3.

A good deal of my morning was spent thinking not about breakfast, but about soup, specifically the pot I whipped up last night. It seems as if everyone (but me, thankfully) has been plagued by colds this season, and yesterday I took advantage of a friend's to make matzo ball soup. I love a good chicken soup, and while my version of matzo ball soup is far from traditional, it's full of health-giving ingredients such as garlic (for cough and croup), ginger (for fever and to increase blood circulation), lemon (vitamin C) and hot peppers (more vitamin C plus a sinus decongestant). These things, paired with the pure joy of eating a nice, fluffy matzo ball, are sure to clear a stuffy head and offer up a metaphorical hug. It's possible I enjoyed the soup more than the patient, since my sense of smell and taste are in tact. To be sure, we both felt great after a bowl (OK, two) and several episodes of Rome.

Cooking for health is not a topic I spend a lot of time on here, but now seems a good opportunity to plug what I'd like to think we already know: in the same way food is medicine, food -- including lack of food -- can run us down. Although most of what I share here seems to born from pleasure, I also hope that my emphasis on local, organic and seasonal produce; whole grains; and a mostly vegetarian diet acts as inspiration to consider what you put in your body. A few weeks ago, I did a little cleanse (no alcohol, caffeine, dairy, meat or processed foods). By sheer coincidence, a Twitter friend urged his followers to do the same for 30 days, with the assurance: "It will change your life." While I'm not willing to be quite so extreme (I am, after all, a bartender), I do think that stepping away from certain foods and substances can provide a chance to evaluate how your body changes with and without their use. My cleanse left me feeling great, and knowing unequivocally that I do not need certain things on a daily basis, no matter how much I enjoy them.

Matzo ball soup, incidentally, isn't something I would eat on a cleanse. More likely, I'd make a broth like this one. But on these fleeting days of winter, I think there's nothing better. For those celebrating Passover this weekend, opt for a vegetarian version. Enjoy!

Hearty and healing matzo ball soup

Ingredients

Soup

1 large onion, diced
2 medium-sized carrots, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons raw ginger, peeled and minced
3 small organic chicken breasts, trimmed and cut into bite-sized pieces
1 quart organic chicken broth
3 tablespoons dried basil
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon nutmeg
2 tablespoons dried rosemary
1 to 3 whole dried chili peppers
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Sea salt, a pinch and to taste
Black pepper, to taste

Matzo balls

2 eggs
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 packet Manischewitz matzo ball mix

In a medium-sized stock pot, heat extra-virgin olive oil over medium heat, add onions and a pinch of salt. Cook until onions become translucent (2 to 3 minutes).

Add carrots and celery. Cook until they begin to soften (3 to 5 minutes).

Add garlic and ginger. Cook for roughly 30 seconds, then add chicken. Stir until contents are mixed and chicken is just seared (2 minutes).

Add stock. Liquid line should be roughly two inches above meat and vegetables. Bring to a boil.

Add chilies, herbs and nutmeg. Cover and simmer 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, beat two eggs with vegetable oil. Add packet of matzo ball mix, and stir until even. Refrigerate for 15 minutes.

In a separate pot, bring 2 1/2 quarts of salted water to a boil.

Wet hands and form matzo batter into balls approximately 1 1/2 to 2-inches in diameter. End result should be 7 or 8 matzo balls.

Gently drop matzo balls into boiling water, reduce heat and cover for approximately 10 minutes.

Using a slotted spoon, remove matzo balls from water and add to soup. Simmer another 10 minutes.

Upon serving, finish with black pepper. Salt to taste.

Serves 4.

Thursday morning No. 2.2.

We have a Swiss friend visiting this week. He arrived Tuesday with a seemingly never-ending supply of cheese and chocolate -- cheese and chocolate he assured us we could not find in the United States (no, not even in New York City). He surprised us after dinner the other night with a bottle of absinthe I wish I'd had last fall. Always charmed by a good accent (or even a bad accent, for that matter; Massachusetts, anyone?), I giggle inside when he says things like "It would be a great pleasure" in complete earnest. He's mixed up the routine of our little commune in the quietest of ways, which might explain why the other day, while running through my daily required reading, I took a special interest in this post over at The Blue Hour (one of my favorite blogs, by the way; I encourage anyone with an interest in food, men's fashion, photography and rock of the indie variety to explore it).

Bircher muesli: a staple from my past when I lived on Nantucket Island and pretended because I was so goddamn different than everyone there I was from Europe and not simply Oregon. My roommate then and now, Michael, would make it with berries and grapes, and after hearty bowlfuls we would ride bikes from one end of the island to the other, often with a stop at Miacomet Beach, where I'd adorn myself in seashells and play mermaid. Last night, I prepared my muesli with the winter ingredients I had on-hand: apples, cashews, organic oats, plain sheep's milk yogurt and whole milk. I used the tiniest amount of sucanat. This morning, after another quick stir, I topped my bowl with some pitted dates. And since I know you're wondering, yes, I had two cups of tea.

Between my new Swiss friend, the muesli and the snow, I felt like I was someplace else. Homemade meals don't often inspire that feeling in me, and it caught me off-guard, like a good surprise. Maybe it was the muesli all along. Maybe it's my active imagination. Either way, I look forward to tomorrow, another helping and whatever memory -- distant or future -- it may bring.

Scenes from a dinner party.

It wasn't meant to be a party per se, but what started as an intimate and relaxed meal at home with friends turned out to be one of the finest nights I've had in a long while. There were cocktails and chit chat while I finished cooking, followed by lively conversation and laughs and a Vietnamese feast. I made braised tofu in caramel sauce for the second time, along with a chili and cucumber salad that simultaneously burned and soothed my lips in the best way possible. We drank Riesling and Pinot Noir. After dinner one guest, who is Swiss and arrived in New York yesterday afternoon, shared cheese and chocolate and a very good bottle of absinthe. We left the dishes and retreated to the living room, where we listened to The Mamas & the Papas on vinyl and let sleep set in. And it was a fine sleep, full of aquamarine dreams inspired by a good day's work and some damn good tofu. Below, some scenes captured by Tracy.