Chicken Soup & Brown Bread

I've discovered that one of my favorite things in the world is a good soup. This surprises me about myself. I've heard this type of satisfied response coming from my mother's lips, but I never thought I would be the one to say it. Partly this is because I was always kind of ho-hum about soup when I was younger. I mean, broth, meat, vegetables--all in one dish, nothing exciting, right? And what could be "plainer" than brown bread (though I ate it with relish as I did any meal she set before me, it was not something I found deep contentment from having consumed, and often felt hungry only a couple hours after...perhaps the consequence of a fast metabolism, perhaps something more).

I had no idea. I didn't slow down long enough to practice and master the art of baking (though mom said if I would only have patience and give it time, I could be a baker just like her). I didn't understand the value of concocting a brew, filling the pot, and as one children's author has put it "stirring away a bad day" (look up the title "Mean Soup" if you ever have the opportunity). Not that every day is bad--not that I need to stir it away exactly; rather, the slow nature of soup-making sets such a perfect rhythm. Merely the making of the chicken soup will do wonders for body and soul.

Mom has recently been thinking and writing a ton about what it truly means to be satisfied (in life, by food, etc.). It has been good to read her thoughts and consider them and how that applies in my own life. Part of what came out of this you see below in my "Rest or Toil" article....I have been learning to slow down and take my time about things--really connecting with deep rest. (Better words come out when my mind and heart have sifted them and mulled over them for a time instead of rushing them to the page). Another part of the result has been that in slowing down, I have finally achieved at least a dozen beautiful loaves of bread, both brown and white--not to mention my happy-children pizza crust (I'm naming it that because my daughters are ALWAYS delighted at the prospect of home-made pizza).

It makes me cry to think of the time I have spent in anxiety and frustration and feeling that I was just not cut out to be a baker--the lies I believed about myself and what I could and couldn't do. These lies came unraveled with a bit of rest, some time for contemplation, and a bit of steeping myself in the habits a baker needs to have in order to turn out wonderful, comforting, warm bread. I was able to bring these habits inside of myself, and wrap my head and heart around the actions until they became second nature. They just "happened" to coincide with a time in my life of internalizing the habits of contemplating Christ, steeping in his word and having integrity in my prayer (i.e. praying what my heart was wrestling with instead of what I thought I was supposed to pray). It is wonderful, comforting, warming to my soul....

But now for some practical application:

I make my soups (risottos, etc.) from homemade stock. I am not a "purist" when it comes to stock. In fact, I'm much more efficiency-minded since we are on a seminary budget. I tend to stockpile veggie parings in a ziplock bag in the freezer until I'm ready to make stock. These are things such as carrot, celery, and onion ends and peels, aging garlic (not too old, it tastes funky), parsley, rosemary & thyme stems/leftovers....and, of course, chicken bones & backs (or beef or lamb or shellfish shells, depending on the type of stock I'm making). I make chicken stock on a bi-weekly basis, minimum. We don't eat chicken more than twice a week, but even the bones leftover from one roast chicken are enough to make 3 quarts of flavorful stock! Here's my method:

Throw chicken bones (and backs, if you have some set aside from piecing a whole chicken) into your largest pot (in my home, this is my pasta pot). Next throw 3-4 handfuls of your veggie parings, including herb & leftovers mentioned above (should be at least 3 cloves of garlic) and a few black peppercorns, and fill the pot up with water (at least 2-3 quarts of water). Bring to a boil. Once it has boiled about 5-10 minutes, skim any foam off of the top, discarding it. Turn the stock down to a simmer, cooking at about a med-lo for a further hour. When the hour is up, turn it off, allow to cool until you can easily handle the pot. Strain out all the solids and toss (they are now flavorless). Voila: you have a flavorful, nutritional, comforting broth ready to be the base for your next comfort-potion.

My soup tonight? Well, let's just put it this way: Chip said he was looking for pieces of faucet (i.e. he felt like I even put the kitchen sink in there) as he ate.
Ingredients included:
celery
garlic
red onion
carrot
thyme
spinach
chicken sausage (with fontina and garlic)
tomatoes
olive oil
salt and fresh-ground black pepper
mushrooms
"o" shaped noodles
parsley & pecorino romano (for finishing--not cooked into it)

As for the bread, I'll have to attack that one another day. Suffice it to say that I finally understood my mother's satisfaction: she had crafted the soup (and bread) from its beginning to its end. She had smelled it, stirred it, gotten her hands into it nearly to the elbow, shaped it, coaxed it into its final form.

And THEN she got to eat it TOO!

(hmmm--now I see the Little Red Hen story from a whole new perspective).