Chicken Soup by Steph

Our first recipe. I had been waiting for this day with excitement and anticipation. I had gathered my ingredients and felt mentally prepared for a chicken soup day. It turned out to be a perfect day for chicken soup, too. Eva was sick, so we stayed home from church. It was rainy and cold and gray - just like a chicken soup day should be. And they say chicken soup has healing powers - no better day to try that theory than a sick day.

The first task, obviously, was to tackle the chicken with a knife and slice its bones apart. I was nervous - rightfully so. In the middle of it, when I was cracking the back bone with my bare hands and dark red blood was spurting out of the chest cavity, I fought the urge to throw up in my mouth and kept telling myself how good the soup would taste. I also had to laugh at how irreverent the chicken looked with her legs spread apart. She couldn't help it - I had ripped her thigh bones out of socket - but it was still giggle-worthy. I opted out of taking a picture though, because I didn't want to get salmonella on my camera. In the end, I didn't do such a hot job of taking the chicken apart. Now I know where the phrase "I butchered it" comes from, because that's exactly what I did. But at least I got it into eight pieces, just like Martha ordered.

After the chicken was cooked and the broth was done simmering, I took a break. I resumed the soup tonight for dinner, leaving the parts of the soup in the fridge. By the time I took the broth out, there was a nice layer of solid fat on the top. I skimmed it off and thanked the heavens that wasn't sitting in my thighs. After measuring out the broth, I realized I only had 4 cups instead of the required 6. Too late to add water - I would just have a chunkier soup. I added the vegetables, simmered for 8 minutes, and then put in the chicken. Ahh...my work was finished. Time to eat.
Unfortunately, I was sorely disappointed. My vegetables weren't soft enough, so there was a disconcerting crunch in each bite. Eventually I gave up and tried to just eat the broth with the chicken. After I was finished eating, there was a pile of too-crunchy vegetables in the bottom of my bowl.
The amount of work this recipe called for was entirely disproportionate to the end result. I definitely will not be making this again. All in the name of experience, I guess.
I learned a few things today:

Parsnips aren't so scary after all. They are just like white carrots. I feel so culinarily well-rounded after having used one.

When it comes to soup, I am just more of a chowder girl. If there isn't cheese melting on the top or a thick chunkiness in the bowl, it's just not true soup.

Homemade stock is not worth the effort. Nor is butchering my own chicken. I am totally fine with my jar of organic chicken base from Costco and pre-cut chicken. Now that I've tried both ways, I can say that with confidence. Convenience is next to godliness.

Martha says, "It has been said that the measure of a good cook is how well he or she makes soup." If today's dinner was any indication of how good of a cook I am, let it be stricken from the record.

But it was fun anyway. Steamed Artichokes with Smoked Salmon, Poached Eggs, and Hollandaise Sauce, here I come. Possibly minus the smoked salmon.

P.S. Eva wouldn't touch the soup. The healing powers which might have been had no opportunity to take effect. I wonder if the microwave would zap the healing powers upon reheating it...maybe I'll try it tomorrow.