It's no secret I love soup. Back at Cornell, the Sister and I would groggily hit up the Lincoln Cafe on Sundays for brunch. And what did I look forward to more than the spicy chicken sandwich with extra caramelized onions and mayo on the side (for my french fries)? Soup of the day, of course.
Tuesday night, the Wife roasted a chicken, so I took the carcass -- stripped of leftover meat -- and made my own stock with it. I used to just boil it six ways to Sunday, but the Wife's brother insists that the pot should be in the oven instead of on the stove. Something about even heating. I think he may be on to something. Anyway, I put Chicken Little in the oven at 200 degrees and forgot about him for about four hours, added a roughly chopped onion, leafy celery stalks, bay leaf, peppercorn and thyme, and left it to work for another two hours.
Once strained (through a cloth), it made for amazing broth.
I don't like watery soup. I want something substantial. So I roasted a pan of potatoes -- which I completely forgot about and burned the everliving hell out of, necessitating a quick walk to Whole Foods for another bag of spuds and a second, more successful attempt -- and garlic. While that was going, I chopped up a few carrots and celery stalks, then pureed half the potatoes, all of the garlic and a can of cannellini beans (which I can never seem to spell) along with two cups of chicken stock. Then I poured it all into the pot and fired up the burner.
Chopped some kale while that was heating up, which I eventually added to the pot -- after the soup had time to condense a bit -- along with the other half of my roasted potatoes (chopped small-ish), another can of cannellinis and the chicken meat. After 30 minutes of simmering and salting to taste, I had the Wife top off the pot with some homemade dumplings (flour, eggs, milk, salt and baking soda).
The result? Deliciousness.
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