Take that, nasty virus!

This soup is called lablabi, which is Tunisian for soul feeder. (OK. It just means chick peas.) The traditional breakfast of manual laborers, lablabi has become a comfort food for me.

The first time I had it was at a casual after theatre dinner at my friend Dorsaf's house. About eight women gathered around a large round table, most of us sitting on the floor. Dorsaf brought out a tureen full of hot chick peas in broth and a basket of bread cubes, followed by satellite dishes of preserved lemons, capers, canned tuna, whole 2-minute eggs, harissa and ground cumin. People put a handful of bread cubes into their bowls, poured the boiling soup over it, and added whatever else they liked. I tried everything, but have since decided I prefer my lablabi without the broth-cooked egg. Too creamy.

I have been craving lablabi all week while this evil bug had its way with me, but didn't have the energy to make even this simple dish. Tonight I made it. Tomorrow, may I feel better. Inshallah.