Most people seem to think of the sweet, simple stuff of their childhood as comfort food.
As far as I'm concerned, comfort food is almost anything my mother didn't make. It's a grown-up pleasure--and a solitary one.
When I'm in need of solace, all I really want is to be left alone with a good book and a good bowl of food. I want to eat with my fingers, eat out of the pot--and I don't want to do the dishes. And although I certainly couldn't tell you why, when I feel really blue I almost always find myself eating spinach and rice. Add some cheese, an egg, and a little chicken soup, and the pleasure is practically perfect.
I'll be ready to rejoin the world almost any minute now.
2 cups rich chicken stock (canned soup will not do)
1/2 cup cooked rice