Cooking with Corona – the Virus, Not the Beer

Editor’s Note: The COVID-19 crisis has hit us all; we have been heartbroken, uplifted, unmoored. To help document the moment, Edible Jersey is sharing stories from our community.

Stocking up on good food – not toilet paper – was my priority in the early days of the Covid-19 crisis. And ultimately, comfort food became as important as the medications we took to beat the virus.

In early March, I dusted off my Girl Scout motto to be prepared. I recruited my husband, Sherwin, for a massive supermarket expedition and filled two carts with meats, frozen produce, pantry items – and yes, toilet paper. Our refrigerator and freezer were arranged with the precision of a Jenga game.

And then our adventure began …

March 22: I made lasagna, and froze the leftovers just in case. I also made my healing chicken soup with roasted garlic, ginger and turmeric, and froze several containers. Afterward, I felt weary and took a nap, assuming I pushed myself too much. A few hours later, I had a fever. I told Sherwin, and we started worrying.

March 23: I woke up feeling exhausted, with a cough. I didn’t work that day … which turned into a week. When I wasn’t napping, I watched news reports of panic at hospitals and supermarkets, and chatter about food shortages. Worried, I placed online orders for ready-to-eat foods in pouches not just for us, but also shipped to our daughters in New York City.

March 24 / 25: The coughing increased, and I felt pressure in my chest. A regimen of Dayquil or Nyquil every six hours – and my chicken soup – relieved most symptoms. The first available doctor’s visit – virtually – was two days away. Meanwhile, I indulged in some self-pity, because we were supposed to be on an anniversary trip in Europe … obviously canceled.

March 26: Feeling even more exhaustion and chest pressure, I spent most of the day in bed or dozing on the recliner. I think I ate some crackers and a little soup. I also had a new worry: Sherwin was now coughing – worse than I was.

March 27: I was diagnosed with probable Covid-19 during the virtual doctor visit (a test later confirmed I was positive). The doctor also virtually diagnosed Sherwin with bronchitis and prescribed medications for his cough. 

One evening, my husband felt so terrible that he had me print his medical history in case I had to drop him off at the ER. I started crying.

March 28: I started feeling better, but Sherwin became worse. His coughing was almost non-stop, and he had trouble breathing. Covid-19 testing was available only in the hospital – which we were trying to avoid. 

March 29: Feeling scared, we went to an urgent care center where a chest X-ray confirmed Sherwin had pneumonia/probable Covid. They refused to test him because he was already taking medications used for Covid-19, and tests were in short supply. On the way home, feeling frustrated, we both craved a bagel … but couldn’t find an open bagel store.

First week of April: Caring for Sherwin was exhausting. I woke him every six hours for medications, and cleaned his sick room often. Kind neighbors brought us meals and the milk/eggs/bread staples – all left by our front door. I had to push Sherwin to eat even a little, coaxing him to drink Ensure and lots of water. One evening, he felt so terrible that he had me print his medical history in case I had to drop him off at the ER. I started crying.

April 8: A friend brought us a roast chicken, and I simmered the carcass for matzoh ball soup, our meal for the Suss family’s virtual Passover seder. I didn’t have matzoh meal, so I used flour to make macaroons for my sick boy. I figured we were enduring a true plague, so dayenu – that would be enough.

April 10: I’m Catholic and prepared Good Friday supper with frozen salmon filets. I was delighted when Sherwin ate the entire meal, a sign that his appetite was returning.

April 12: Our Easter morning outing was another visit to the doctor, followed by a holiday meal of that pre-made lasagna. I baked scones to eat during my family’s virtual Easter coffee – a far cry from the cakes and cookies I usually make.

Second week of April: While Sherwin recovered, I worked remotely from home. The Pandemic Pause gave me time to weed through all the recipes I’ve ripped from magazines or printed from websites. I’ve tried a few, and some I will keep.

April 19: Our cupboard was looking bare. When I arrived at the supermarket, many people were not wearing masks; I felt contamination lurking everywhere, with ungloved shoppers pinching stalks of broccoli and sniffing pineapples. Discouraged, I left quickly and drove to a smaller market where prices were higher, justifying it as an investment in my health. I cleaned the shopping cart with antibacterial wipes, and followed the one-way aisle directional arrows. Back home, I wiped every package with more of those precious wipes, and soaked fresh produce in three parts water and one part vinegar. Then I plopped on the couch, weary of this new routine.

Post-script: I’m feeling lucky, not just because we beat Covid-19, but because I enjoy cooking. Many family and friends think cooking is a chore. I’ve offered to cook some meals for them, but they nervously decline – and I can’t blame them. There are still too many unknowns about how the virus spreads.

Working from home makes it easy to start dinner or bake a treat during a work break. Because of food shortages, I can’t find everything I need, so I’m channeling Food Network’s “Chopped” and cooking with what I have. My favorite chunky chicken salad usually has raisins and walnuts, but when I substituted pecans and a generous tablespoon of peach jam, it was yummy!

To prevent kitchen burnout, I’m also trying to get two meals from one recipe. Meatloaf for dinner becomes meatloaf sandwiches for next day’s lunch. Leftovers from a side dish of rice and peas are mixed with beans the next day for burritos. We enjoyed my French onion soup au gratin for dinner, then twice more: as the au jus for French dip sandwiches, and reduced to an onion jam served atop roasted chicken thighs.

Sherwin and I also enjoy occasional take-out or delivery meals, and give generous tips. It’s the least we can do to help beleaguered restaurateurs, waiting for the day when we can giddily go out for a post-crisis celebration meal … with waiters … and specials … and most of all, our family and friends.

Photo courtesy of the author