A Common Cold

The nagging culprit set in slowly over the course of this past Sunday. It began with a dry cough that became incessant as the day advanced. By nightfall, as I briskly walked the cement floors of Mogador, back and forth, back and forth, I began to understand that the cough was catalyzed by a slow, post-nasal drip. The all too familiar threat of an impending sinus infection is upon me! No. I will do my best to prevent it. Upon finishing my evening shift, I decided I’d attack the bug strategically; with calm. Instead of running home, I sat peacefully and enjoyed root vegetables stewed in broth. As I bundled up for the short trip home, the bartender handed me some fresh ginger and my manager recommended I start swigging apple cider vinegar. Everyone at Mogador, including me, is an amateur homeopath. It must be a prerequisite for the job.

At home, I pressed and boiled the ginger turning it into a tea. I also ate a clove of raw garlic and then, shot a small glass of apple cider vinegar with organic maple syrup and lemon juice….tingles, hair standing up on my forearms. Blech. I stood over a pot of garlic cloves. As they danced in boiling water, I inhaled the potent perfumed vapor they gave off. I took my Whole Foods crazy-concentrated Once Daily pill (which I never take every day), some Vitamin C and zinc and then, commenced the sweating process. Chamomile tea (to pull the body’s toxins to the skin’s surface), a piping hot shower followed by a glass of water to hydrate, wrapped myself up in three layers of clothing with socks and a hat, every inch covered, and tucked in under layers of blankets and sheets to sweat this thing out. If I wake up sick tomorrow, no one can say I wasn’t proactive.

Morning comes, so does my period. That means low immunity. I’m drenched in sweat. I turn the heat on in the apartment. It’s a warmer day than yesterday yet I’m not well and feel chilled. I rinse off. It’s slipper season. I begin the day’s liquid regimen. More tea, water and another shooter of my apple cider vinegar concoction. I do this two more times later in the day. I eat an organic Fuji apple. I set my sights on making my first ever bone broth. I’m inspired by my friend Cassie Tunick’s tale of a delicious Polish broth called Rosol, delicately flavored and spiced. I think I remember Monika Roth’s mom (Monika is my oldest childhood friend, a daughter of Polish immigrant parents, and my neighbor from the other side of 162nd street) making it once with a turkey leg instead of chicken. I make my grocery list and head out with canvas bags to the Meat Hook.

I take my laundry with me. I use the new tactic of throwing the bag down the four flights of stairs and then, follow carrying my red grandma cart (thanks Aunt Audrey). The lady behind the counter says, “It’ll be ready by tomorrow.” There’s no turkey at the Meat Hook. I settle for chicken; one breast and three thighs. I also buy fresh organic produce: parsley, cilantro, parsnips, leeks, onions, cabbage…I already have a bulb of fennel, celery, carrots and spices at home. The bag is heavy. I sweat profusely during the walk back. I buy some eucalyptus for the apartment. Carrying everything is awkward, but I make it home eventually.

I make the stock. I flavor it with ginger, celery salt, black pepper and cayenne. It simmers on my stove-top for five hours during which I write in my journal, multiple entries — varied handwritings and perspectives on life’s progress emerge. I take an hour-long nap. I read 50 pages of the new Mogador book club pick (Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Lowland). The oven beeps persistent, loud. The stock must cool before I can refrigerate it and scoop off the layer of fat that seals the nutrient-laden liquid with a skin. I eat a few of the mushed up stock veggies with couscous leftover from my last night’s Mogador staff meal. I drink more tea, lots more. I contemplate doing the sweat process again, but decide I don’t want to exhaust my body’s capacity for recuperation. I retire to bed.

Day Two with this cold. I’m up early for a morning shift at the restaurant. I’m not the opener, thank goodness. I open the fridge and with two hands carefully remove the speckled red ceramic bowl with fitted cover (a gift from my late Aunt Donna) that contains my nutritious broth. Removing the stock’s solid fat layer turns out to be more of a process than I expected. It didn’t harden all the way as numerous online sources told me it would. I tediously scoop bits and pieces out of the liquid with a spoon. After making a mediocre effort to rid the stock of the gross fat tid bits, I ladle the juicy part into my small sauce pan to heat it up for a morning cup’s worth of bone broth; a fortifying, curative way to start the day (or so I hear, Ms. Jennifer Hall Taylor). I swig more apple cider vinegar, maple syrup and lemon juice. I shower, dress and I’m out the door.

I hop on the subway for two stops: Graham to Bedford. I call in my morning meal, hummus and spicy carrots, as soon as I’m up the subway stairs on the other side so it’s ready once I arrive. I buy a ridiculously expensive green juice at the juice press and an avocado and brown rice crackers at the organic deli. I think I’m prepared. From 9–9:30 I smear the hummus on the rice crackers and stack the avocado and carrots on top of each bite. Honestly, I’m not tasting much. I’m sick. I put a water aside for myself underneath the server’s computer station. I take a quick trip to the bathroom, fix my hair, put on my lipstick, tie my apron and I’m on the floor.

It’s busy right away. I’m running food, bussing tables, taking and entering orders, pouring OJ’s, carrying coffees, checking in to make sure poached eggs aren’t over-poached. Lots of this among other service minutiae. I’m sweating and winded. I have a few embarrassing coughing fits at tables. The tickle in my throat halts my verbal interactions with customers. As a result my face reddens as my throat tightens and threatens to cough, my eyes well up with tears and I almost puke two times. I have to run away from the floor to hack in the bathroom, away from the food, people and stares. How gross to see that the person serving your food is sick, I know.

The afternoon server brings me lemon ricola lozenges at the request of the General Manager. I get pulled from the back to the smaller middle section. It’s too busy for this. I remember the green juice. I try to keep my liquids going. I do my job while saying as little as possible. I’m done at 4. Phew. I sit and order a soup and babaganoush and wait for the mandatory staff meeting at 5. One of the restaurant’s long-time wine suppliers is coming in to taste us on a couple of our more esoteric bottles of red. What a day not to be able to drink wine. I guess I can taste and spit. Sigh. There’s one in the bunch that I have to give the full experience though. A14 year old Gran Riserva Rioja called Coto de Imaz. A more than $100 bottle. With it’s deep color, luscious texture and incredible dark chocolate, black cherry, herbal and mushroom notes there’s no question, I’m gulping this one. YUMMMMM. Sorry cold! A little bit won’t hurt, I hope.

After the trip home, more tea and then, I’m motivated to cook somehow. I slice up a green cabbage into 1 inch wedges. I blend parsley, cilantro, pine nuts, mustard, garlic and olive oil in my mini-Cuisinart (thank you Lindsey Reuben). I rub this all over the cabbage and sprinkle it with sea salt and fresh ground black pepper. It goes into the oven at 400. I also throw in a carnival squash I bought at Meat Hook because it was so pretty. On the stove top I sautee half an onion, three chopped carrots and swiss chard with bright, sturdy red stems in olive oil which I’ll later stir into the 1 cup of farro that I bring to a boil in my homemade stock. While I’m cooking, Takis turns up for a brief but pleasant visit. He doesn’t eat my food tonight. He ran six miles today! He wants to eat meat. We watch an episode of Action Bronson’s Fuck That’s Delicious food show on the Vice network, a guilty pleasure we indulge in together. This night, it feels like it takes forever for me to clean up my cooking mess. I’m exhausted. I drink more tea and take some C and Zinc. I remember that I have Grapefruit Seed Extract which is supposed to be great for treating (and preventing, I hope) sinus infections. I put seven droplets in a glass of water and gulp it down. Bitter, potent. I do the apple cider vinegar thing again. I go straight to bed.

Day Three with this bug. I wake up around 9:30am. I text my friend Saifan and ask if she’ll work for me at 5pm so I can come in at 7pm. Just a tad later but a shorter shift to boot. She agrees. I’d planned to go to dance class this morning. Joanna Kotze is teaching for two weeks. She is one of my absolute favorite teachers, but alas, today, I’m super achey. I feel really sick and symptomatic, congested even. I drink hot water with lemon. I repeat the bone broth ritual followed by some tea. In case you’re wondering I’m drinking a variety of teas including peppermint, echinacea, chamomile and a lavender/rose hip blend, but all natural herbal blends without caffeine. I set up on the couch with a box of tissues a candle and Twyla Tharp’s The Creative Habit. I re-read two chapters in the middle of the book. One about understanding one’s creative DNA and the other about harnessing one’s memory. I journal for about two hours afterwards. I decide that the missing link for me (in more ways than I can explain here and now) is that I need a morning ritual. I write about what I want that ritual to look like. Tomorrow I will begin.

I eat a bit of leftovers. I make tahini to drizzle on my cabbage. Good idea! I drink more tea as well. I meditate for a while. I breathe deeply imagining that I’m inhaling healing, cleansing oxygen that will help my cells renew their health and fight this cold. I feel a bit better. Something in my head clears. I dress and go outside to pick up my laundry. I come home and read some more: a bit of The Lowland and some tidbits from Paul Pitchford’s TCM tome, Healing with Whole Foods: Asian Traditions and Modern Nutrition. I really want to read this book in it’s entirety from front to back in a studious manner with notebook and all. One day I will.

I prepare for work. Put on a face and a nice outfit and adopt a healthful, positive attitude. It’s dark outside when I leave the house. How strange. I walk to my bank and deposit my new roommate’s half of the rent. I drop my rent check in a mailbox on the way. I head to work. I order soup and a Romaine Hearts salad with radishes and no cheese. No dairy for this sick chicken, but radishes are a good, pungent food for the prevention and treatment of sinus infections! It’s bustling at Mogador. The servers on the floor are slammed. I’m asked to start early. Long story short, it’s a smooth shift. No opportunities to sell those wines I learned about the day before, I just didn’t have the right tables, but no issues or complaints and no coughing either!!! I’m cut at 10:30pm. I sit and unwind with a co-worker for 15 minutes or so before taking the trip home. At home, I force some more liquids, more GSE, ACV and my Once Daily, change into my pjs and get straight into bed.

Day Four. I wake at 7am for my new morning ritual. My sinuses feel like they’ve been carved out. They’re an arid environment today. I boil water. I encounter my new roomie. Brief exchange. I wash dishes and I fold and put away the clothes that are scattered on my great grandmother’s chair. I drink the water with lemon while I download the Songza app. I find some soothing ocean sounds to play. I meditate. I lie on the floor and attune to my chi, to the tone of body today. I do some light stretching. I activate the distal ends of me waking up each finger and toe. I move my eyes around in the sockets. I do some pattern organizing and some weight bearing. I wake into my body. I’m suddenly starved. I heat some food (the farro with the remainder of yesterday’s tahini batch) while succumbing to the urge to check my email, facebook and instagram accounts. Today is a day off. Again, I could go to class (not Joanna’s), but I decide instead to embrace the opportunity to rest and heal while I have it. I get a blanket and a candle and snuggle up on the couch with The Lowland. I read for an hour. I’m making progress.