Don't try to kid me

Aisling has some sort of ailment that is rendering her pale and listless and slightly sick of stomach, and nothing less like the true Aisling has yet been seen on the planet. She is quiet, docile and takes medicine without complaint and it would be wrong to appreciate this vacation from loudness, moodiness and the tendency to come alive right smack in the middle of the afternoon when I have lost the will to live and am looking longingly toward the Bailey's. Wouldn't it?

Anyway, I was making her some chicken soup for lunch, which for Kayte means cooking a chicken, making the stock, rolling out homemade noodles....the only thing I don't think she does is go out to her yard and pick the carrots. My way of making chicken noodle soup is to go to the store and buy a box of the reconstituted kind -- today, I chose Mrs. Grass over Lipton's because it was on sale.

So I was standing at the stove waiting for the four cups of water to boil so that I could pour in the teeny little noodles (so delish, much better than long, stringy noodles), when I noticed that I was supposed to add the contents of the "seasoning packet" as well as the "flavor nugget."

Flavor nugget?

I looked at the front of the box and saw the words "Golden Flavor Nugget - Filled with rich chicken flavor!" and sighed in exasperation. I hate it when companies think that we, the consumers, are so stupid that they'll try to con us into buying their product with its Golden Flavor Nugget as if we're getting something brand new and very, very special, when it ought to be perfectly clear to anyone who's ever opened up a packet of reconstituted chicken noodle soup that what Mrs. Grass and her cohorts are calling a Golden Flavor Nugget is actually a BOUILLON CUBE reshaped into nugget form.

Golden Flavor Nugget, my foot.