Home Remedy
Just about every family has its own special cure for the common cold. Mention your sniffles, and you'll get suggestions from all sides. Some are as simple and predictable as chicken soup, and others are more arcane. Perhaps this is the natural result of not having an official medicinal cure for the problem. We have to fight, so we try all sorts of things and hang onto what makes us feel a little better. At least we feel like we've done something about it.
The primary reason science has had such a hard time with the common cold, as I understand, is that it is as good at adapting to new conditions as the human beings it infects. Colds change. They resist attempts to wipe them out, and medicine that might have worked in the past isn't guaranteed to work again. Fighting a cold can't be done by putting on your heavy armour and reaching for a big sword (metaphorically...or literally, I guess.) It's more like learning to dodge and keeping your pockets full of useful stuff like marbles, knives, caltrops and smoke grenades so that you're ready to pull out whatever you need depending on the tide of the battle. Success depends on hitting your cold with an arsenal of techniques and weapons. For me, that arsenal is red sauce, the tomato-based concoction usually found on top of a plate of pasta. At the first sign of illness, just a little stuffiness or aching that warns of the misery to come, I arm myself with the potent stuff in the hopes that I'll scare off the cold before it settles in. There is logic to it, science even. Cooking tomatoes with onions and garlic, flavouring it with basil and oregano, you create layers of germ fighting power. The vitamins and minerals support your body's natural defenses, while phytochemicals in the herbs are known to have anti-inflammatory, antibacterial, and antioxidant properties. Add some peppers or mushrooms to your sauce, and you boost its health-giving potential even more. When I sense the start of a cold, I usually make a big pot of it and serve it over noodles for days. If time doesn't allow, or if I'm feeling too crummy to cook, a deep dish pizza topped with extra garlic will do, but it has to be from a decent pizza maker who knows how to do deep dish right. No chain restaurant impostor will do. You need it to be good and saucy.
This was not the home remedy of my youth. Despite my opening statement, I don't think we had a family cure in my youth. We might treat a sore throat with honey and lemon or gargle salt water. We might use horehound candy to soothe a cough. But these were only intended to ease symptoms, not to drive out a cold. My grandmother used to say if you treat a cold, it lasts for just 14 days; if you don't treat it, you'll be stuck with it for two whole weeks. My mom would probably agree with my assessment. She always had a good basic knowledge of nutritional balance and an interest in the healthful properties of foods. We just never singled it out as a cure. Spaghetti sauce was just a part of life.
Without much money, spaghetti just made good sense. You could feed a big family well on a few simple ingredients. Small amounts of ground beef could stretch without anyone having to feel deprived. Being poor meant we never had to suffer the pale imitation that is sauce in a jar. We couldn't afford it. Home made was cheaper in the quantities we needed. Best of all, everyone liked it. It was a regular at our table, and nobody ever really complained. My youngest sister went through a phase when she disliked the lumps in the sauce, and Mom tried to accommodate by pureeing the tomatoes and onions in the blender, but that passed soon enough. Most of the time, she just used whole, peeled canned tomatoes and crushed them through her fingers into the pot. It works better that way. Sauce is best when it's a little chunky, when the ingredients are mixed together but still distinct in their own ways. That could be a great metaphor for society, but that's not the point of this post.
The point is what occurred to me the other night as I was squeezing tomatoes through my fingers into the pot to ward off another cold. I spent a childhood watching my mother's hands. Over and over, she did her subtle magic to feed and clothe and heal, and watching all those years gave me the power to do the same. Now every time I fill my pot with cold fighting goodness, I'm linked to that time and that magic. I'm linked to my mom. That positive idea has to be good for your health, too. In part, a home remedy works because it's touched by HOME.
The primary reason science has had such a hard time with the common cold, as I understand, is that it is as good at adapting to new conditions as the human beings it infects. Colds change. They resist attempts to wipe them out, and medicine that might have worked in the past isn't guaranteed to work again. Fighting a cold can't be done by putting on your heavy armour and reaching for a big sword (metaphorically...or literally, I guess.) It's more like learning to dodge and keeping your pockets full of useful stuff like marbles, knives, caltrops and smoke grenades so that you're ready to pull out whatever you need depending on the tide of the battle. Success depends on hitting your cold with an arsenal of techniques and weapons. For me, that arsenal is red sauce, the tomato-based concoction usually found on top of a plate of pasta. At the first sign of illness, just a little stuffiness or aching that warns of the misery to come, I arm myself with the potent stuff in the hopes that I'll scare off the cold before it settles in. There is logic to it, science even. Cooking tomatoes with onions and garlic, flavouring it with basil and oregano, you create layers of germ fighting power. The vitamins and minerals support your body's natural defenses, while phytochemicals in the herbs are known to have anti-inflammatory, antibacterial, and antioxidant properties. Add some peppers or mushrooms to your sauce, and you boost its health-giving potential even more. When I sense the start of a cold, I usually make a big pot of it and serve it over noodles for days. If time doesn't allow, or if I'm feeling too crummy to cook, a deep dish pizza topped with extra garlic will do, but it has to be from a decent pizza maker who knows how to do deep dish right. No chain restaurant impostor will do. You need it to be good and saucy.
This was not the home remedy of my youth. Despite my opening statement, I don't think we had a family cure in my youth. We might treat a sore throat with honey and lemon or gargle salt water. We might use horehound candy to soothe a cough. But these were only intended to ease symptoms, not to drive out a cold. My grandmother used to say if you treat a cold, it lasts for just 14 days; if you don't treat it, you'll be stuck with it for two whole weeks. My mom would probably agree with my assessment. She always had a good basic knowledge of nutritional balance and an interest in the healthful properties of foods. We just never singled it out as a cure. Spaghetti sauce was just a part of life.
Without much money, spaghetti just made good sense. You could feed a big family well on a few simple ingredients. Small amounts of ground beef could stretch without anyone having to feel deprived. Being poor meant we never had to suffer the pale imitation that is sauce in a jar. We couldn't afford it. Home made was cheaper in the quantities we needed. Best of all, everyone liked it. It was a regular at our table, and nobody ever really complained. My youngest sister went through a phase when she disliked the lumps in the sauce, and Mom tried to accommodate by pureeing the tomatoes and onions in the blender, but that passed soon enough. Most of the time, she just used whole, peeled canned tomatoes and crushed them through her fingers into the pot. It works better that way. Sauce is best when it's a little chunky, when the ingredients are mixed together but still distinct in their own ways. That could be a great metaphor for society, but that's not the point of this post.
The point is what occurred to me the other night as I was squeezing tomatoes through my fingers into the pot to ward off another cold. I spent a childhood watching my mother's hands. Over and over, she did her subtle magic to feed and clothe and heal, and watching all those years gave me the power to do the same. Now every time I fill my pot with cold fighting goodness, I'm linked to that time and that magic. I'm linked to my mom. That positive idea has to be good for your health, too. In part, a home remedy works because it's touched by HOME.
Don't underestimate the magical qualities of the Love you put into the creation with your own hands.
ReplyDeleteIt's a powerful ingredient.
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