It’s been one heck of a year. As I sit down to write this, I can smell the soup I threw together earlier today, on a whim of quick inspiration and uncharacteristic organisation. It’s not your typical chicken soup, brewed over half the day with real chicken inside it and good, wholesome veggies. This one is a bit different. In lockdown desperation, I pulled a chicken flavoured noodle soup from the internet, and whipped it up in less than an hour, using chicken stock instead of real chicken and adding pieces of chicken breast thrown in as a last attempt to keep it true-blue and authentic.