Soup and story: a recipe for chicken soup and a little bit of Afterglow
When some fellow writers at my publisher,
Champagne, decided to
put together a cookbook, I offered up this recipe for chicken soup. It’s one of
my comfort foods, a lot like the soup my mom used to make. I like to make it on
cold, snowy days, the kind of days that frequent January here in the
northeastern part of the US
where I live.
Good-For-What-Ails-You Chicken Soup:
- 8 cups of Chicken Broth or Stock
- 1 onion, chopped
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- 1 T olive oil
- 4 carrots, diced
- 4 stalks of celery, diced
- 4 cups cooked chicken, cubed
- ¾ cup soup noodles
- Salt and pepper to taste
- Crock Pot
- Pour Chicken Stock into Crock Pot and set on low
- Heat oil in small sauté pan
- Saute onion and garlic until just browned
- Add onion and garlic mix to stock
- Add carrots, celery, soup noodles and chicken to stock
- Cook for six to eight hours on low setting
- Add salt and pepper to taste before serving
I used the soup recipe in combination with a true story told by a friend in Afterglow. In the book,
has broken her arm and her kids make her soup.
Here’s the excerpt:
Allie ladled the soup into bowls and placed them on the counter. I sat and played with my spoon while she dipped hers in and took a tiny sip. “It tastes a little funny,” she said.
Mitch and I looked at each other. He hadn’t sampled his bowl, either. Patch took a sip and looked as abashed as Allie. “I followed the recipe,” he said. “You don’t think Granny left something out, do you?”
I’d made that soup a hundred times. It was the best chicken soup anyone could make. Good for what ails you, Granny used to say. I took a sip and nearly had to take another trip to the bathroom.
“Garlic,” I said, grabbing the glass of water and chugging some. “It’s a little heavy on garlic.”
“I told you,” Allie said.
“I followed the recipe exactly,” Patch said.
“It’s okay,” I said, making ready to endure another sip.
“Don’t eat that.” Patch snatched away the bowl. “Allie’s right. It sucks.”
“How much garlic did you put in?” I said, sticking a toe into the raging waters of soup-making.
“One clove,” Patch said.
“That sounds about right,” I said. Then it hit me. “One clove or one bulb?”
“Bulb? Clove?” Patch looked puzzled.
“Honey,” I said as gently as I could. “One bulb is about thirty cloves.”
“Give or take,” I said.
“Jeeze, Patch,” Allie said. “A whole bulb? Even I know better than that.”
“If you’re so frigging smart why didn’t you say something?”
“Somebody had to pick up the prescription.” Allie marched over to her purse and pulled a cylinder of pills from it. “Percodan,” she said, setting the bottle next to my water glass. “Want some?”
My stomach settled despite the soup. I wanted for nothing. My wrist throbbed, to be sure, but really, it didn’t matter. I had Patch and Allie and Mitch to cook for me and buy me drugs and make sure I didn’t lapse into a coma. What else could I possibly need or want? The thought brought tears to my eyes.
Afterglow is a romantic comedy. Here’s the blurb:
India Othmar isn’t having a great year. Her husband of thirty-one years has left her for their son’s ex-girlfriend. Her grown children have moved home. Her best friend Eva seems determined to set her up with every oddball in their small
town. And her most significant relationship these days is with Cherry Garcia.
more resilient than she thinks. And though it will take a broken arm, a lawn
littered with engine parts, some creative uses for shoes, and a scandalous love
affair of her own, she learns, much to her surprise, that her life hasn’t ended
with her marriage.
Purchase the book here:
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