The Columbus Foodletter

The Columbus Foodletter

What We Eat When We’re Sick

Every culture has its version of chicken noodle soup—or Sprite and saltines. We asked several Columbus restaurateurs and chefs to share their go-to sick-day foods.

Andy Dehus
Jan 23, 2026
∙ Paid
A comforting bowl of congee (chao long) at Huong Vietnamese Restaurant (Credit: Bethia Woolf)

What We Eat When We’re Sick

By Andy Dehus

Food is one thing that unites us all. Unfortunately, so is the stomach bug, to name but one of a range of pesky ailments that we as a species routinely endure.

Compassionately bridging the gap between these two stark facts of human existence lies a world of caring elders armed with timeworn recipes for comfort and revival. This flu season, we asked some of our favorite food people—whose roots span the globe—about their childhood sick-day food remedies. The nostalgic expressiveness of their answers—most sent via email or text—is often as warming as the recommendations found within.

Perhaps none more so than Brazilian Grill & Bakery’s Lawrence Ujie who responded to us via email: “The real secret ingredient in Brazil’s sick-day food isn’t about the broth, or rice or turmeric—it’s the way care gets cooked into a warm comforting bowl,” he writes. “Brazil doesn’t really treat sickness like an isolated event. When a cold creeps in, everything kind of changes: The pressure cooker goes on the stove, steam becomes the soundtrack, and someone–most likely Grandma–inevitably says, ‘Eat a little, you’ll feel better.’ The country’s sick-day soul food is warm, brothy and familiar, built on the lore that comfort foods, when cooked with love, heal you one spoonful at a time.”

Brazilian Grill & Bakery’s Lawrence Ujie, with the author in the background (Credit: Columbus Food Adventures)

Ujie goes on to write, “When we are feeling down, the classic answer is canja de galinha, Brazil’s unofficial sick-day remedy. It’s a chicken soup with a Brazilian twist: rice instead of noodles, garlic (lots of it) and onion softened into sweetness, diced potatoes, shredded carrots and often a golden tint from turmeric. It’s gentle, restorative and deeply nostalgic! I’d say it’s the culinary equivalent of a hand on your forehead checking how warm you are, and if you are lucky enough and you have a Grandma around. (I say ‘a Grandma,’ because it doesn’t have to be your Grandma, pretty much any Brazilian Grandmas will do). Canja is often paired with extra rituals: tea with lemon and honey or other herbal infusions.”

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