I am sick. I can’t deny it anymore. I’ve managed to skirt each and every rotating virus that has gripped my friends and family, ridden the subway with the coughing and sneezing masses, snuggled my runny-nosed niece and nephew, and even shaken hands with, pecked on the cheek, and hugged some people who kindly warned me of catching their doom. I guess you could say I got a little cocky: “Maybe I don’t get colds anymore! Maybe I’ve developed immunity to the common cold! Maybe I’m a miracle!” Yes, well, we all know what happens to those in the grip of such hubris—they wind up flat on their backs surrounded by used tissues, cough-drop wrappers, and the glassy-eyed look of someone who’s been inextricably locked in the grip of too much soap-opera and talk-show watching. Not that I’d know anything about that.
But, oh, I shall prevail! Today, I’m pulling out the big guns and turning to that undeniable, cross-cultural simmering miracle in a pot—say it with me, folks: Chicken soup! Mmm-hmm. Of course, feeling sort of cruddy, I’m not so inclined to make efforts to do much more than lie here with my dog and feel sorry for myself, but really, it’s just a little bit of chopping and time. And, man, the final results are so much better than cracking open a container of viscous broth, mushy vegetables and noodles, and dubious chicken, no matter how badly myriad commercial soup-in-a-can makers want you to believe it’s “just like homemade!” It’s not. It’s nothing like homemade. Homemade chicken soup has an aroma like no other—a steamy, savory waft that promises recovery. The sweet diced bits of carrots and celery; al dente pasta or toothsome rice, and, of course, chunks of white and dark meat all coming together to soothe and sustain the poor, sick soul.
Propped in bed next to me right now is the wonderful Molly O’Neill’s ode to the Big Apple, the
New York Cookbook, as great for its stories and bits of “I didn’t know that!” NYC trivia as it is for its fulfilling recipes. Writes O'Neill: “An epicurean archaeologist could piece together a social history of the city simply by studying the permutations of its chicken soup…it’s a curative, a panacea, a culinary medium. Its aromas rush from the doors of Jewish delis and wave like steamy ribbons behind the bicycles that deliver Chinese food throughout the city. The scent of chicken soup lingers over the kitchen stoops in the Italian section of Cobble Hill and above the homes of Greek families in Astoria. It seeps from the thermoses of the Senegalese who peddle umbrellas on the street corners in Manhattan…sharing the taste of chicken soup is as close as the city comes to communion.”
I like to use a ladling of freshly cooked tubettini in mine, because the tiny thimble-shaped pasta doesn’t crowd out the vegetables and chicken (and, well, that’s what my mom used to give me and she made really, really good chicken soup). I’ve got a pot on the stove now, and the aroma is weaving its way up the stairs to my sick bed and making me feel better already; the warm, liquid promise of a cure. Now if I could just find the strength to turn off the TV…
What are your sure-fire culinary cures for the common-cold? Let me know so I can get better fast!
New York Penicillin
This recipe from O’Neill’s New York Cookbook is from Guardian Angel Curtis Sliwa’s Aunt Marie Stacey.
- 4 quarts cold water
- 1 chicken (4 to 5 lbs), quartered
- 2 chicken feet, or 4 chicken wings, or 1 turkey wing
- 1 clove garlic, peeled and bruised
- 1 onion, peeled
- 2 carrots, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
- 2 ribs celery, cut into 1-inch pieces
- 1/2 bunch fresh parsley, tied together with string and rinsed
- 1 bay leaf
- 1 1/2 tsp salt
- 1/2 tsp black peppercorns
Pour the cold water into a large pot. Add the chicken, garlic, onion, carrots, celery, parsley, bay leaf, salt and peppercorns and slowly bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for 4 hours, skimming frequently. Strain the soup. Discard the onion, parsley, bay leaf, and peppercorns, but reserve the other vegetables. Remove the chicken skin and debone it.
Return the meat, carrots, celery, and garlic to the stock and bring to a simmer. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve in bowls over pastina, rice, or spaghettini.
Amy Zavatto has been writing about wine, spirits, and food for ten years. Her work appears in Imbibe, Gotham, and Every Day with Rachael Ray, among others. She is the author of The Complete Idiot's Guide to Bartending and the co-author of The Renaissance Guide to Wine & Food Pairing.
