By Alison Roman, The New York Times

Even a person as enthusiastic as I am about home cooking can feel fatigue, and six going on seven weeks of this quarantine, I am feeling it. It’s not so much the cooking. It’s the eating — probably because I am doing it all day long.

Thin slices of Gouda, forkfuls of last night’s dinner from a plastic container, a pickle spear from the jar, buttered crackers or matzo with a few anchovies scattered over: These days, I am eating with a frequency that can only be described as “constantly.” Which, for the record, I am very happy with.

Come 6:30 or 7 p.m., I am definitely not full, but I’m also maybe a little exhausted by the idea of eating again. (Three meals a day starts to feel a bit like the feeding schedule at a petting zoo, and without the allure of restaurants to go to, well, a little empty.) At the risk of sounding like the least cool person you have ever met, the only thing that seems to excite me when I enter this appetite purgatory is: soup. Not just any soup, but a very specific soup, one that’s light, brothy, meat-free and noodleless. Are you excited, too?