There are about as many recipes for chicken noodle soup as there are people who enjoy it, which is everyone. Well, everyone but me. I understand that announcing that one does not like chicken noodle soup is tantamount to saying that one dislikes comfort, thick sweaters on brisk fall days, well-padded shoes for long walks and sips of tea from a steamy mug. I get this. But in my defense, I am not the one who broke it.
I cannot take responsibility for delis that keep a batch of soup at a low simmer 24/7, until the noodles are gummy and the bits of chicken taste like death itself. I find it depressing that few recipes on the first three pages of Google results for chicken noodle soup image that one might want to make it from scratch, that an “old fashioned chicken noodle soup” recipe on one of the largest food websites out there has you begin with eight cans of low-sodium chicken stock. I am equally suspicious of chicken soups that have you cook the chicken to a point beyond repair and then discard the meat, because my inner Depression-era granny (frankly, outer, too, on days where I don my aforementioned thick cardigan and padded shoes) would fall over at the thought that people cook a chicken only not eat it, and therefore, maybe so should we. I am uninspired by soups that have you cook the chicken so briskly in the name of saving it for later leaving just a pale, weak broth behind. And with this, what happened is what always happens when I attempt to explain in great detail why I have no love for a certain dish: I ended up making it anyway.
A few things led to this: First, I finally summoned enough common sense to realize that saying you don’t like an item because the readily available versions of it are no good is like saying you don’t like tomatoes because in January, the groceries only sell pale orbs that are more dehydrated watermelon in texture than tomatoes. Surely tomatoes aren’t to blame for what’s been done to them. The second was that my son came home from preschool with a terrible cold that he quickly passed to his father and it bothered me more than it should that I didn’t have a go-to recipe for the universe’s most beloved remedy. And if this wasn’t enough motivation, over the weekend the weather plummeted from a gorgeous 77 degrees to a windy, rainy 52 and soup is suddenly the only thing that makes sense.
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In the kitchen, I did things my way, which is to say, minimally. The broth is just chicken and onions, with a confetti of vegetables added at the end where their flavor remains bright. The noodles are wide and winding, for those (okay, probably just me) who could never keep those slippery, skinny ones on their spoons. But, for me, the real triumph was giving the chicken parts and onion a saute — a trick I picked up from Cook’s Illustrated, that picked it up from Edna Lewis – before adding water to make the soup. This deepened flavor base makes for magical soup, with a bronzed color, more robust flavor and significantly reduced prep time. This was my “A-ha!” moment. With all of the blustery, cold days to go this winter, everyone, even the previously reistent, deserves to have a homemade, from-scratch chicken noodle soup that can be pulled off in just about an hour in their back pocket.
Two years ago: Roasted Eggplant Soup Three years ago: Breakfast Apple Granola Crisp Four years ago: Beef, Leek and Barley Soup Five years ago: Arroz Con Pollo and Gazpacho Salad Six years ago: Lemon Pound Cake
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