I am a Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup purist. I begrudgingly accept the convenience of the easy open pop top, but prefer the earthy ritual of digging the can open with a hand-cranked can opener.

I prepare and consume Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup virtually every day. It cleanses. Sweat forms on my back and my sinuses erupt when I hold my face over the hot bowl of soup and methodically process the soup from bowl to mouth. My glasses fog up and I often burn my tongue on the scathing liquid, which I generally let boil for 7 to 8 minutes.

The contents of the bowl start off looking like mostly liquid. But the noodles sitting at the bottom gradually appear as the top liquid is consumed. Concurrently, the temperature of the concoction drops, and the naked-seeming noodles are that much more appetizing for their ease of consumption.

I have learned that the noodles must be chewed. Not chewed like steak but processed. Because I save the noodles for last, I must remember this. The noodles must be chewed! A large spoon full of noodles must be chewed. After the sauna-like experience of the top of the soup it is easy to assume that all shall go down with equal exhilaration.

Hot Chicken Noodle Soup is especially good on a hot day. At temperatures nearing 100 degrees I have sat down to a boiling hot bowl of Chicken Noodle Soup and felt the sweat gush from my forehead into the bowl of soup I thus consume. A cleansing, earthy ritual for the summer months.

If I have one issue with Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup, it is that I’d either get rid of the chunks of chicken, or make them seem less pitiful. They look like gum scraped off a tennis shoe, and perhaps their appearance biases me. But I think they have the taste and consistency of string.

I always, always laugh when I see the instructions on the back of the can. It says MIX SOUP + 1 CAN WATER. The first time I remember reading those instructions I put the can down and rummaged through the kitchen gadget drawer looking for something that would measure 1 can. I thought it was an official unit of measurement, like a tablespoon or a cup. I don’t know how many emptied cans of soup I threw away without filling them with water, or when I made the connection that they meant you should fill the emptied soup can with water. And I laugh further just at the sound of the word. Can. I need a can of water. Creative recipes for a spare can of water.