Thursday, March 12, 2015

Old-Fashioned Chicken Soup

For some reason, the man truly believes in chicken soup as the cure to most ills. He's feeling under the weather and can't seem to shake off a persistent cold, waking up with coughing fits at night. It's been an intense two weeks at work and on all fronts. It was a particularly long day that was expected to end at midnight. I decided to boil up a pot of old-fashioned chicken soup for him. With slices of ginger and bits of peppercorn. The second pot this week.

NOPE, I don't consider boiling up a pot of soup as 'cooking'. It's the simplest thing. Only when I could be bothered to move my lazy ass to the supermarket at 8.30pm to buy ingredients. I was in luck. The supermarket had fresh-enough spring chickens. Grabbed one. Had to clean it. UGH. Pulled on gloves. Cut those stupid nails and bits on the feet, chopped off the head and butt, removed most skin, and all that. DOUBLE UGH. I dislike handling raw meat, and of them all, chicken. THAT REALLY STANK. I will taste the soup, but I won't drink it, because, chicken.

I'm not making broth or stock. It's kinda like....medicine for sniffles, I suppose. My version won't be tasteless. But it's certainly not gourmet. This is just plain hearty old-fashioned pure chicken soup Asian-style. Not Jewish penicillin and no matzo balls. Not quite Japanese chicken soup (鶏がらスープ) either. There's no need to brown anything in the pan. I certainly wasn't going to have oil splatter the kitchen this late at night. All that was needed was to blanch the chicken before it went into the pot. Turned the fire up high, then lowered it to a steady simmer and for the next three hours. Then I waited, for eight bowls of water to boil down into two, thereabouts. Not double-boiling. Just thick thick chicken juice. Went into kitchen every 30 minutes to stare at the fire and uhh listen to the bubbling, gave contents in the pot a stir, and lifted out excess oil.

It was nice to see the man's face light up at supper, slurp the steaming hot bowl, and hear him declare it "good". Still, that warm fuzzy feeling that lasts for about 10 minutes isn't nice enough to convince me to cook regularly. LOL. However, this being the man's birthday month, I will indulge him, and like I said, utilize the kitchen a little more this year. #impieCooks2015


D said...

so sweet of you. hope the man gets well soon.
talk about whole chicken in sg. i won't be able to handle that myself even with gloves like you. i have a phobia of seeing dead bird's head. my knees go weak and i'd feel like fainting. it's a relief whole chickens sold in sweden come without heads (and feet)!

imp said...

at least they plucked the feathers clean and removed most innards. i just don't particularly like handling raw meat. you should see how many gloves i have in the kitchen. like, one for cooked meat, one for raw meat... hurhurhur.