February 25, 2016 § Leave a comment
Night before: One rotisserie chicken, stripped and bones put in the pot with just enough water to cover. Throw in the broth left over from last weekend’s dining adventure with friends.Trim and chop the following:
1 Celeriac, 1 head of Garlic, 3 golden beets, 6 carrots
Put away the prepped vegetables in the fridge. Throw trimmings in the soup pot. Throw in two good-sized Dong quai slices, and a slight palmfull of Astragalus root. Chop one lemon in half, and throw that in with a spritz of apple cider vinegar to pull the calcium from the chicken bones.
Simmer while you and your employee kill a bottle of wine playing gin rummy on the porch.
Turn off the heat when you finally drag yourself to bed.
Get up the next morning, bring back to a simmer. Strain the broth, and put the trimmings back in the pot with more water.
Proceed to clean out the fridge. Toss in the spinach that you aren’t going to get to in time, trim the asparagus so that it keeps better for the next couple of days, throw in last few carrots from last week. Remove the spines from one bunch of kale, put those in, then throw in another small handful of Astragalus as you think about your friend who has had a cold for over a week. Don’t forget that one last little nubbin of ginger root.
Finish up one French press on the porch all the while catching up with a few friends who you are long overdue to call.
Strain broth again.
Throw out the trimmings. In the same pot, brew up about 3 1/2 cups of holy basil tea. Once thoroughly steeped, throw in about a cup and a half of wild rice. Cook for 45 minutes. That’s just about enough time for you to re-organize your spice drawer.
Get a bigger pot, because the one you’re working with isn’t going to hold all the stuff.
Combine cooked rice, the remainder of the basil tea, the chopped vegetables from last night & the meat from the chicken into the bigger pot.
Put on to simmer, all the while having an internal war about how you should be inviting all of your friends over but you’re not really in the mood for company.
Cook until the carrots and celeriac are al dente.
Remove from heat. Pull every piece of Tupperware you have in the house, and package up the soup.
Save one bowl for yourself. Toast up a slice of that Jewish rye bread your friend gave you because they knew your fridge was empty last week.
Sit on the porch, listening to the robins while marveling at your creation.
Start making plans on what you’re going to do with all of this soup, because you certainly aren’t going to be able to eat it all.