Sometimes, soup gets witchy. It can be a little like potion-making when the world’s on fire. It starts with a chicken carcass in a pot on the stove overnight, and turns into a lemon-shallot-garlic chicken broth in the morning, because damnit, someone still deserves nice things, and if it isn’t you, then you can probably think of someone.
Cook. Liturgist. Poet. Parent. I write love letters to my elementary school teachers. Had 10 weddings. Read all about it.