There’s a whole series of books devoted to “Chicken Soup for the Soul.” I’ve never read them but I buy into the hearty goodness of chicken soup. My grandfather delivered a vat of it when our triplets were born, assuring me that it would not only “wet my whistle” but fill my tummy too. My husband fetched it for me when I had strep last year and it was like the elixir of the Gods. The warm steam from the broth alone seems to have healing powers, conjuring up feelings of comfort and joy. These are the feelings I want to create for my family when I make chicken soup. Comfort and joy.
We really need it. It’s been a rough few weeks. Our triplets just started kindergarten and have been separated for the first time. Our daughter just started second grade and has been reduced to tears over her math homework. Our oldest son, a fourth grader, started a new school and is feeling the pressure. In the midst of it all, I’ve been traveling for work, working long hours when I’m home and struggling with the onslaught of folders and paperwork. We need comfort and joy. We need chicken soup.
And so it was that last Sunday, we decided to roast two chickens. One for dinner, one for soup. As my husband was prepping the birds, he asked if we should “toss in the giblets” for the broth. We’ve made soup a dozen times but never with giblets. I thought my grandfather used the giblets for his famously good soup so I responded “Sure, toss them in the pot!” And he did. As we cleaned up the dinner, I added the bones and other remains, filled that pot with water and put it on a slow simmer. I turned it off before going to bed that night, deciding to finish up the soup on Monday. Which turned to Tuesday, and then to Wednesday. (more…)