I woke up this morning with a scratchy throat, a runny nose and a headache. So I did exactly what I’m sure you’d do.

I jumped out of bed, ran to the computer and Googled “Swine Flu symptoms.”

Headache – check.

Congestion – check

Sore throat – check

Body aches – Oh come on. That’s a symptom? I’m (insert large but undisclosed age here). I haven’t woken up without body aches in as long as I can remember. But hmm … were they a little worse today?

I was starting to get nervous.

Then I noticed a few items on the list that didn’t apply. My neck and joints weren’t any stiffer than usual. I hadn’t been visited with any unpleasant gastrointestinal effects. And I didn’t have a fever.

OK, so maybe I wasn’t dying from H1N1 (the flu formerly known as Swine) after all. And the lack of a temperature (and convulsions) also ruled out my back-up diagnosis, cat scratch fever. (Eddie, you’re in the clear on this one.)

It was just a cold.

A disgusting, nasty, congested, miserable, headachy, drippy, utterly uninteresting, summer cold.

You get no sympathy for a cold. No one waits on you hand and foot, cheerful cards do not arrive, you receive no get well flowers. In fact, you’re a pariah.

If you’re able to stay home in bed, you can at least suffer in sniffly solitude. On the other hand, if work or your life demands that you go out into the world, everyone whose path you cross will scold you to get back into bed like you’re a recalcitrant 5-year-old. Then they’ll back away from you, hissing “Don’t come near me!” And even if you wear a face mask, wash your hands like Lady Macbeth and spray the greater part of the state with Lysol, you can be assured that your friends and loved ones will still blame you personally if they get sick any time in the next month.

I’m working at home today, so at least I haven’t had to face accusatory looks. But that means I’m near my kitchen, and that poses another huge dilemma for me.

I can never get that stupid proverb straight. Do you feed a cold or starve it?

I was hoping I’m supposed to starve it, as I have nearly completed spring cabinet cleaning and my cupboards, refrigerator and freezer are extremely bare. But I’m starting to get hungry. Really hungry. Cherry cough syrup jubilee and hot buttered Nyquil aren’t cutting it.

I’ve hunted for sustenance, but even the Iron Chef couldn’t concoct a dish out of what little can be scrounged from my Mother Hubbard pantry. (Anchovies, Dijon mustard, collard greens and a can of mandarin oranges — I dare you to try). I need real nourishment. Something to knock this cold on its butt and then send it scurrying. I need chicken soup.

But I’m missing two key ingredients. Namely chicken. And soup.

So I’m blowing my nose, dragging myself out and heading to the store.

Believe me, I don’t want to be there spreading germs any more than you want me to be, and I won’t blame you if you glare at me. If I bumped into me and my red nose in the middle of the frozen food aisle, I’d recoil too. But this beastly bug must be given its due.

I Googled the proverb, and apparently it’s “Feed a cold and starve a fever.” So feed it I must.

Who am I to argue with the wisdom of the ages?

Tortilla Soup

I grew up on Jewish chicken soup — which is great comfort food, especially when it has matzoh balls floating in it — but since I discovered tortilla soup, I’ve never looked back. The extra heat from the chilies and the zip from a squeeze of lime at the end really help it cut through the fog of a cold. This version is from Joey Altman’s cookbook “Without Reservations,” and tastes just like the one our cook made for us in Puerto Vallarta this winter. Serves 8

3 corn tortillas

1/4 cup vegetable oil

8 cups chicken stock (preferably homemade)

2 ripe avocados

12 ounces cooked chicken (I use breast meat from a rotisserie chicken), shredded

2 Roma tomatoes, diced

2 jalapenos, seeded and thinly sliced

1 tsp. chipotle chile in adobo (these come in cans), finely chopped

Small bunch of cilantro

Queso fresco (optional)

2 limes, cut into wedges

Cut the tortillas in half and then into thin strips. In a small skillet or saucepan, heat the vegetable oil. When it is hot enough to sizzle when you drop in a piece of tortilla, add the tortillas and fry them until they are golden brown. Remove them from the oil with a slotted spoon and drain them on paper towels. Sprinkle with salt and reserve. Strain and save the oil to reuse some other time.

In a saucepan, heat the chicken stock to a boil. While it is heating, cut open the avocados, remove the pits, and use a spoon to scoop them out, putting about a quarter of an avocado in the bottom of each of eight soup bowls. When the broth is hot, add the chicken meat, tomatoes, jalapenos and chipotles to it and simmer for 3 minutes. Then ladle the soup over the avocado into each of the soup bowls, trying to distribute the meat and jalapeno slices evenly between the bowls. Crumble a little queso fresco on top of each one, along with about a dozen cilantro leaves. Add a small handful of the fried tortilla strips on top and serve with lime wedges.

Betty Teller is beginning to wonder if this is an allergy to cats rather than a cold. You can reach her at amuse-bouche@sbcglobal.net if you’d like to improve her health by adopting Eddie.