I woke up mid-afternoon to a cold, damp Sunday in late March. I was hung-over and my homework inbox was overflowing. I had slept through lunch, not that my waking condition was conducive to the consumption of food anyway.After a couple hours of Internet tangency (YouTube + Wikipedia = expanded worldly knowledge & increased possession of random factoids for deployment to impress and persuade in future settings), I decided that if I was going to be awake on this dreary Sunday afternoon, I had better get some work done.

So, I took a nap. Dilemma resolved.

When I woke up around 7 p.m., I began to think about sustenance. Another glance out the window had me considering a very specific set of dinner choices: the rainy day foods. Unmotivated to attempt any overly ambitious dish and still in possession of a very large pot, which I borrowed to cook pasta earlier in the week, I decided on cooking a soup of some kind.

In honor of the Red Sox opening the 2008 season with a win in Tokyo, I proposed we try our hands at New England Clam Chowder. My suggestion was shot down in seconds, as Ana was not excited about the clams, a seemingly essential ingredient. She would, however, love to make corn chowder, she confessed.

Now we’re talking the complete opposite region of the country, the southwest. I don’t know much about how they do things down there, but I did recently hear Arizona doesn’t recognize Daylight Savings Time, which is marginally bodacious of them. And I was hungry. And it was promised to me that corn chowder is easy to make.

I called my dad for his recipe and discovered that, indeed, corn chowder is a pretty simple deal. My mom suggested adding jalapenos to the soup. “Be careful not to touch your eyes after cutting them,” she warned. Apparently she forgot I am in college and an Iron Chef. Thanks, Mom. One uncharacteristically painless trip to ‘Teeter later and I was standing over the aforementioned large pot, ready to dominate, as per usual.

The process was quick and effortless. Corn chowder is one of those chop-it-up-and-throw-it-in-the-pot-to-simmer-for-a-while-until-the-potatoes-are-soft-and-the-broth-has-thickened deals. Classic.

Corn chowder’s merits go beyond it’s easiness in the kitchen. I didn’t pay any attention to proportions (see process, above), but it still came out fine. I don’t know if it was the weather or the hangover, but the chowder tasted like I knew what I was doing, like I had made some intuitive decisions in the kitchen and added just the right amount of something that really made the soup. Plus, it was only, like, 13 bucks for everything, including two baguettes to go with it. And with such a large pot, it is great to share. Everyone acted like I had done some great service to the world, thanking me again and again.

The meal’s best quality, though, is the atmosphere in which it is eaten. With the effects of global warming raging outside, we all sat together and talked and ate, passing the baguettes around and keeping warm together. It was a lovely Sunday dinner, shared with friends.

And then it was back to sleep for this busy bee.