At the big family Easter gathering on Sunday at B's niece's house, the central meat dish was a huge beef Wellington roast.
I was surprised, actually. I'd thought beef Wellington was a dish unknown to just about anyone under the age of 80 unless, perhaps, they had been old fogies in their youth as I had. I remember fondly having had it a couple times in my youth in the 70s but having hardly ever seen it on a menu since, and when I have, usually being unable to get it. (It's only on the dinner menu, and I can only be there for lunch. It's only on Wednesday, and this is Thursday. The restaurant has abruptly gone out of business just before I could get there. Etc.)
But no, it seems to be in the recipe repertoire of our hip exec forties-aged niece. Good.
Then B. came down with the crud I'd been laboring through, came home from work early today, and retired to bed with a request for chicken noodle soup for dinner. The result surprised her by not coming straight from a can. No, I might do that if she asked me to heat up a quick lunch for her, but if we're to have chicken noodle soup for dinner, it'll be Jewish-style chicken noodle soup, with three ingredients: chicken, noodles, and soup.
It's not fancy, really. (Could have put some veggies in, but didn't bother: B. doesn't go for celery and I dislike carrots.) The chicken was the pre-cooked bagged chicken I often use for simple recipes. The noodles were the wide egg noodles from the local grocery with the big kosher section, and so was the dry soup mix. Took about 20 minutes, including heating up the water. And you get a hearty soup without metallic sodium tang, tiny slivers of mystery meat, or soggy superannuated noodles: instead, warm Jewish broth, full bites of chicken, and big chewy al dente noodles. Dinner is served.