I took a picture of today’s dish, but the quality of the picture was not befitting to the quality of the meal.  

Instead, I give you this picture to demonstrate why homemade chicken noodle soup was the perfect meal for today.  Besides, y’all already know what chicken noodle soup looks like.

Ellen started her chicken noodle soup last night by making stock from a whole chicken. People often use the terms stock and broth interchangeably.  Both are effectively flavored water.  Broth comes from simmering meat and veggies in water for hours and straining the result.  

Stock is the same thing, but with bones as well. Bones release gelatin (think Jello).  As water evaporates, gelatin thickens the stock.  This is what gives chicken noodle soup its thick silky texture.

If it don’t got bones, it ain’t stock (and thus, “vegetable stock” is a misnomer).

I’ll let Alton Brown break it down for you:

For lunch today I had a short-rib burger at Blackbird, which if you haven’t had yet, you should. Though it’s right around the corner from our office and I’ve worked here for 2.5 years, this was the first time I’ve eaten there. Good stuff.

But, everyone back at the office had a warm orecchiette, radicchio, and mixed mushroom salad with dijon vinaigrette and white truffle oil accompanied by a roasted garlic and rosemary baguette.

I’m glad Ellen emails me these food descriptions because I wouldn’t be able to spell half of those words on my own.

I haven’t tried it yet, but I plan on eating the leftovers for dinner.

… I would just like to say that Table XI neither engages in nor condones any of the following practices:

Our two vegetarians were out of the office today, so lunch became a celebration of meat.

Ellen made Carne Adovada with blue and red corn pozole with avocado salad.  This all was accompanied by warm tortillas.  We had the option of eating it as a taco or a stew but the taco was out of control messy, and the stew made for a much better picture.

Ellen picked up this gem while taking classes at the Sante Fe School of Cooking while she and some girlfriends were vacationing in the area a few years back.

BTW, food photography tip: did you know that plating in a shallower bowl makes for better pictures?  Neither did I until Ellen told me.

I’ve used “delicious”, “deliciosity”, “yummy” and “scrumdiliumptious”.  I don’t know how to continue expressing the quality of these meals without consulting a thesaurus, being redundant or sounding blasé.

I was a very, very picky eater growing up.  Over the last few years of living with a chef and having gourmet meals cooked at the office I have greatly expanded my culinary horizons.

When I first started working at Table XI, I didn’t eat seafood.  It’s a taste I just never acquired.  Over the last year Ellen has worked in a steady rotation of fish and shrimp and though I sometimes do so reluctantly, I now eat seafood on almost a weekly basis.

I say all this to illustrate the significance of the following statement: I have never devoured fish as quickly as I ate the salmon Ellen cooked for us today.  It was (insert adjective describing immensely pleasurable taste). The fish itself was (another adjective) but the Korean bulgogi glaze pushed it over the top.  Accompanying the salmon was white rice and boc choy with mushrooms.

Just say no.

This afternoon around 4:00pm, a seven-year old girl walked into the Table XI office and took all of our cash.

The culprit, Ellen’s daughter Ingrid, came offering promises of the rare American delicacy known as Girl Scout Cookies. Apparently supplying delectable culinary treats runs in the family.

Though many offices are rife with Girl Scout competition, Ellen and Samantha are the only TXI staffers with children.  I’d go further to say that most of us don’t even have friends in Chicago with children.

Needless to say, Ingrid cleaned house.  Her sweet, innocent pitch coupled with the temptation of sugar-crack were no match for our New Years’ weight-loss resolutions.  Many of us were separated from our not-really-hard-earned hour-entry bounties and Katie Gore, John’s wife, placed an order for what looks to be the entire city of Toronto (only weak imitation Girl Scout Cookies can be procured in Canada).

In fact, Ingrid was so effective at selling that the idea was floated of offering her a job (mine), but fortunately child labor laws precluded it.