Happy New Year.
Relax. I’m not here to sell you banana socks today. Not yet. First we survive January. Then we shop.
Do you even like resolutions, or are we all just pretending because the calendar told us to reset?
Here’s the real question I ask myself every year: Do I want change, or do I just crave the fantasy of being the girl who changes?
It’s hard to say.
I did eat a cookie while writing this.
So clearly, discipline is not in the room.
I didn’t enter the new year inspired. I entered it recovering.
The flu took me down right before Christmas, like we had unfinished business.
While everyone else was wrapped in holiday magic, I was in bed negotiating with soup and Googling how long a human can cough before meeting Jesus.
Somewhere between sweating and bargaining with my lungs, soup became my personality.
It was the one my Greek mother made when someone was sick.
Steam fogging the kitchen, lemon squeezed like medicine, love disguised as orders, and a few under-her-breath blessings that sounded like cursing.
It was the kind of food your body trusts when everything else feels like an attack.
I make it now when someone in my house is sick.
My kids hate it.
That’s how inheritance works.
I kept her recipe, then added my own twist. I guess I woke up thinking I’m Ina Garten.
So here’s the soup. It saved me.
If you make it wrong, keep that between you and God.
🍋 Greek Egg-Lemon Chicken Soup (Avgolemono) — Flu Edition
What You Need
• 1-2 lbs bone-in chicken thighs or legs
• Water (8–10 cups)
• My secret twist: chicken bone broth — I use Kettle & Fire Reduced Sodium, 16.9 oz
• Orzo or white rice — about 3/4 cup
• 1–2 lemons, juiced
• 2 eggs (room temperature)
• Salt and pepper
• 1–2 bay leaves
• 1 small yellow onion, diced
• 2–3 carrots, diced
• 2–3 celery stalks, diced
• Olive oil (optional, but we both know it isn’t)
How I Make It
1. Add the chicken to a large pot and cover with salted water, leaving about an inch above the chicken. Simmer about 1 hour (the longer, the better), until it falls apart.
2. Remove chicken, let cool, shred with whatever utensil is closest.
3. Strain broth into a large bowl using a fine-mesh skimmer or sieve.
4. In a clean pot, sauté the onion, carrot, and celery in 1–2 tablespoons of olive oil for 8–10 minutes, until softened.
5. Add strained broth back in, then add the full carton of bone broth, bay leaves, and shredded chicken.
6. Add orzo or rice and let it cook.
7. In a bowl, whisk eggs + lemon juice. Temper slowly with hot broth from the pot so you don’t scramble it.
8. After the orzo or rice is cooked, add egg-lemon mixture back into the pot and set aside for 3-4 minutes.
9. Salt and pepper until it tastes like life is worth living again.
10. Eat it without doom-scrolling. Talk to a friend instead.
Here’s a link to a similar recipe, if you need a second opinion.
Before we move on, thanks for not unsubscribing while I sweat, cough, and confess.
Lovecore HQ: Quick Dopamine Hits
🧦 Banana Socks Update: Dropping mid-January. Mark your calendar (or your feet). Yes, they are ridiculous. Yes, your feet will go bananas. No, I will not apologize.
👔 Button-Down Shirts: The collab with Stuart Adelman continues. The banana pattern is now on a short-sleeve button-down. Approved and officially heading into production. If you’re here, you’re early. Early always gets access.
🫶🏼 Customer Love: Every time you surprise-tag Lovecore online, I squeal like a teenager. That tiny act of love is what grows this business. Love is the algorithm here. Thank you 🤟🏼
What I’m Loving Right Now (because I refuse to enjoy things alone)
🍿 Binge: Emily in Paris. Team Gabriel forever. And please, Netflix, send them to Greece next season!
📚 Read: I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy. I like memoirs that feel like they’re telling a secret. This one does.
💄 Makeup: Rhode Peptide Lip Tint. Glossy. Soft. Dangerous. I now understand Hailey Bieber’s power.
✨ Look: Club Monaco Shrug Neck Rib Sweater. I wore it to a Christmas party and let everyone else handle the ugly sweaters.
🍲 Food: Rao’s Homemade Soup. My backup soup. The rebound. No deep feelings, just survival.
What’s Next?
Sometimes the hardest pill to swallow is not Tamiflu. It’s knowing I gave my energy to the wrong things and paid for it.
I’m not here to impress. I’m here to live. Apparently love is lemon-flavored now. Who knew.
Don’t fall for the trap.
If your year begins in bed, coughing and tired, it still counts. If you’re about to say “New Year, New Me,” I dare you not to. Say “New Year, Same Me, But Hotter,” then prove it.
There’s a rule I’m carrying into this year.
I’ll tell you next month.
XO,
Nickie
P.S. I’m curious. What are you done pretending to care about this year?
Hit reply and tell me. I read them. I feel them. And maybe I’ll even steal one. 🫶🏼