Like most great minds of science and culinary expertise, Elaine, the Professor is a terrible patient. What does he do for a cold? Usually, the Professor whimpers. The Professor moans. The Professor wraps himself in a wool blanket, puts an ice bag on his head, plugs Babette's Feast into the DVD player, and squawls like a scolded baby at the first onset of fever.
Then, after the loud agonizing has given way to a deeper self-loathing, he makes his way into the kitchen on his f luffy pineapple-shaped slippers. If the Professor was thinking ahead (and the Professor is nothing if not prescient), he has stocked his refrigerator with the ingredients for a recipe that he learned from his dear, dear friend and beloved colleague Dr. Andrew Weil. The Professor, of course, has never actually met Dr. Andrew Weil. Come to think of it, he doesn't particularly like him, either, for there is a bit of professional jealousy that we shall not go into just now.
Fine, we'll go into it: The Professor's pride has been wounded by Weil's inexplicably greater fame and reknown! This is the self-loathing that comes creeping into the Professor's brain during the pathetic watches of his night-fevers.
While he prepares this recipe, chopping the onions and skinning the butternut squash, he confronts the awful truth: that he will never be Dr. Andrew Weil, who is handsome and learned and widely loved, while the Professor is little more than a hastily rendered eggplant cartoon character.
To make a long story bearable, this is what the Professor does for a cold. We call it:
Immunity for the Community with Impunity
Usually, two bowls of this soup, a good night's rest in my Dr. Weil™ pajamas, and the Professor is good as new.