I’m making chicken soup today

Pray for me. Unlike Bossy, I’ve never made it before and my track record with homemade soups is pretty darn awful (0-1—worst. split. pea. soup. ever.)

UPDATE: Chris added the broccoli, leeks, red kidney beans, parsley, onions, carrots and celery to the broth (and, of course, chicken) I made earlier today and ... GREAT SUCCESS! Chris did well over half the work, but I’m still chalking this up as a win.  I’m now batting .500 in the World Soupies. If my cholesterol levels are good following my physical tomorrow, I’m coming for you french onion. You’ve been warned.

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Posted by Kevin K. on 02/24/09 at 11:26 AM • Permalink

Categories: Food

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A tip for you: It looks like Bossy used pre-peeled carrots. However, I’ve found those pre-prepped carrots don’t quite cook right. They don’t get soft, even in dishes like pot roast, where you bake the ever-lovin’ hell out of them. Ironically, they’re just fine as crudités…

Now, I have never once criticized Bossy for anything and in fact want to be Bossy when I grow up. I’m not criticizing her now. Maybe she likes her carrots that way. But if you want yours nice and soft, use the kind you have to peel yourself.

Good to know, Betty.  Thanks for the tip. We’re doing the soup differently from Bossy. I’m in charge of just setting up the broth with a whole chicken, onions, carrots, garlic, celery, and bay leaves. Later on Chris is going to add in kidney beans, broccoli and leeks along with, I assume, carrots. She thinks Bossy is just doing a simple broth-n-chicken soup. I’m pass on your tip about carrots because, of course, we were going to use the pre-prepped ones.

I should point out we’re going to pull the meat off the chicken and strain the broth before step 2, not just throw in the new stuff as is.

(0-1—worst. split. pea. soup ever.)

In fairness to yourself and your burgeoning soup-making abilities Kevin, you were making the worst kind of soup ever.  Split pea, or “hot snot”, is served to murderers as punishment in some crueller countries.  Best of luck with the Jewish penicillin though!

You can’t really go wrong with what you’ve described, Kevin, as long as the broccoli isn’t part of the brothmaking.

I always throw abt 10 whole peppercorns into my broth. I have a pressure-cooker, though, and whole spices work better that way. It is the fastest, easiest way to make stock imaginable. And the new ones don’t even explode—which is a little disappointing, but you learn to live with it.

“hot snot”

Never heard that before, but it’s brilliant.

KK—How the hell can you fuck-up soup?

If it comes out runny, you add a little flour and let it simmer until it becomes “Cream of Something.”

If it comes out too thick, you call it stew.

If it comes out nearly solid, you throw in some cheese and call it a casserole.

30 years of bacheloring would make a man out of you in the kitchen, I guarantee.

And the new ones don’t even explode—which is a little disappointing, but you learn to live with it.

I accidentally detonated a pressure cooker in my kitchen years ago. There wasn’t a square inch of any surface—ceiling, cabinets, etc.—that didn’t have a field pea stuck to it. Jeebus, what a mess. And the exploded cooker lid became several pieces of lethal-looking shrapnel which embedded itself a quarter-inch deep in the drywall.

Fortunately for me, I was not in the kitchen when the explosion occurred. I’ve heard about the new non-explosive cookers, but I’m not sure I’ve recovered from the trauma enough to try one.

During my college days, I used to run the juice bar/kitchen in a natural foods store. Every day, I prepared a brand-new soup. No recipe ever. It always worked - just grab bunches of veggies, chop them up, and throw them in the pot.

No salt, no bad stuff. Tasted great. strangeappar8tus is right - soup cannot be screwed up, except in the seasoning department.

I cook all the time. I make killer stuffed mushrooms, chicken cooked in wine, and the best - bar none - General Tso’s Chicken in the San Fernando Valley.

Cooking for friends is the best.

Indeed, spicing errors are difficult to correct. However, almost any other problem can be rectified with flour, heavy cream, cheese, rice…or a blender.

In the worst cases, the answer lies in the choice of designation. For example, you can frequently salvage a mutant chicken soup concoction through the application of a guest-pleasing adjective-and-noun descriptor. Among the most useful language-additives in my own kitchen are:

—Sweet’n'sticky
—Traditional Aztec
—cobbler
—cocquillage
—cluster
—fritter
—General Tang’s
—Grandma’s Depression-Style
—meat-tart
—______-of-the-Sea
—______-to-Go
—______ a la Strange

Seriously—any failed meal can be made to appear intentionally exotic, with the right name and a decent cabernet or sake. If it REALLY sucks, make up a fantastic story about Cajun pirates, Seminole Indians and an inventive slave-cook from Senegal who averted a slaughter by preparing a feast using only paw-paws, curry and rum.

I find the immersion blender to be that duct tape of soup and sauce making.

However, I’m a vegetarian, so I’m not sure how that works with hunks o’ meat.

Now I’m thinking of one of my favorite Simpsons episodes—the one where Marge goes away on vacation, Bart and Lisa are with Patty and Selma, and Homer has to take care of Maggie.

Homer to Marge, as the train pulls away: “How do I use the pressure cooker?”
Marge: “You don’t!!!”

A friend of mine blew up her grandparents’ pressure cooker one time making hot dogs (don’t ask). Her grandpa, whose vision was pretty well shot by then, was crawling around picking up pieces of dismembered sausages, thinking that she’d blown her nose off and maybe they could re-attach it at the hospital if he managed to get it on ice.

Just beware the slow-cooker. I used to have one, and I somehow reduced whatever I was trying to make to an appalling slurry.

Or “General Tang’s Depression-Style Ground-Nut Coquillage” perhaps.

make up a fantastic story about Cajun pirates, Seminole Indians and an inventive slave-cook from Senegal who averted a slaughter by preparing a feast using only paw-paws, curry and rum.

Strange - your genius for the above is not one that many of us lower order of humanity can summon. But I will say that I once came across what I believed to be an authentic tribal recipe for camel. It involved digging a large pit, throwing in many bushels of vegetables, followed by one fully grown camel. The entire thing is then covered with wood and set ablaze for something like a day.

I’ll let you know if I ever come across that recipe again.

Brad—That sounds like a not-uncommon cooking technique for grasslands dwellers or non-nomadic Arabs. It’s also, IIRC, the basic principle behind a clam-bake.

I figure it has to be something of a specialty, though, since I can only think of a couple places where you’d have a) ready access to wood and b) expendable camels you don’t have a better use for.

Cleveland comes to mind. But this is probably a sub-Sahara thing.

I accidentally detonated a pressure cooker in my kitchen years ago.

I remember my mother doing this when I was an impressionable small child and have never even dreamed of owning one since.  Although I have friends who swear by them.  I think the slow cooker actually does a pretty good job with soup - as I type I have a potato/carrot chowder going at home for dinner tonight.  Helps to use more liquid than the recipe calls for.  However most of what I have tried in the slow cooker resembles mush when done.

Mrs. Polly—If that ever happens again, serve it chilled with a sprig of cilantro.

Your guests will be too intimidated to bitch.

Strange, as an precaution, I usually make up a big batch of Glogg. They eat the almonds and raisins, fall asleep, and I wake them when it’s time to go home.

I had one who slept on the hearth until the next morning, which very much irritated the dog.

Her grandpa, whose vision was pretty well shot by then, was crawling around picking up pieces of dismembered sausages, thinking that she’d blown her nose off and maybe they could re-attach it at the hospital if he managed to get it on ice.

Holy crap, that’s way funnier than The Simpson’s!

Unlike Ms. Polly, I am a slow cooker fan.  But the trick is to get those cheap hunks of meat that need a long time to cook—they do great 8-10 hours on low.  If you are using better meat or chicken you have to be careful how you long you cook it.

And appropriately, I have a pot roast almost finished for tonight’s beef stew.  Beef stew and king cake, it’s a fat tuesday feast.

(BTW, I like the food threads.  It’s like a recessionary bonus to discuss how we’re all going to eat in).

KK—How the hell can you fuck-up soup?

No shit. What, are you the Sarah Palin of Brooklyn men?

What cookbooks do you read to stay on top of new recipes, Kevin?

All of them Humboldt, I read all of them.

I too am making soup, although I aint-a-gonna bother makin’ me own broth, got a restaurant friend who does that already.

As to carrots, DO NOT USE PRE-PACKAGED CARROTS, buy the goddamn things fresh and peel’em yourself.

Also, buy some small (really tiny) red potatoes, here they’re called silkies, and throw them in 10 minutes before serving, they come out so wonderfully silky, and coupled with lots and lots of celery and carrots and onions and pork butt and some lentils and some leeks ...


mmm mmm goooood.

But the trick is to get those cheap hunks of meat that need a long time to cook—they do great 8-10 hours on low.

I fucked up a good piece of pot roast that way, as well as a good piece of pork roast.

At least I haven’t fucked up the soup, though.

<quote>I fucked up a good piece of pot roast that way, as well as a good piece of pork roast. </quote>

Well, did you use a good dark beer as your cooking liquid?  Maybe that’s my secret.

Oops sorry…got my website quote tags mixed up.  Sigh.

Put the chicken in the pot and add water to three quarters cover the bird.  Bring to a light boil until the scum rises to the top.  Skim the scum.  Add chopped, unpeeled whole carrots, chopped onions and chopped celery.  Lower heat to simmer, add salt, pepper, paprika and garlic cloves (4 is too many).  Simmer covered for an hour and a half or so.  Remove bird, let cool a bit, cut the meat into yummy chunks and add it back to the liquid.  Noodles?  Up to you.  Nancy likes noodles.  I could do without them.  I add noodles.  Eat the soup.
Also:  never add parsnip to any soup or stew.  Parsnip, like blotter acid, trump anything they are added to.

And remember, any opaque fluid with the consistency of heavy cream (or slightly thicker) should be labeled a “bisque.” At higher densities, the word “dip” may be substituted.

My soups have sometimes progressed passed “dip” to “spread”, “spaetzle” (torn-off hunks of soup thrown into other soup) and “bowel obstruction”.

Luckily, Mr. Polly is an uncritical eater, dividing meals into 3 food groups: “needs sugar”, “needs Ketchup”, and “yick.”

Very little reaches “Yick”.

Parsnip, like blotter acid…

Now there’s a phrase I never expected to see in this or any other lifetime.

It looks fantastic. Y’know, it appears a great many of us Roastafarians are foodies, as is appropriate for a blog called “Rumproast.” Maybe we ought to do a weekly food porn thread? Share camel roasting recipes and such?

Yum that looks delicious.

May I have some PLEASE? *Pouting*

Maybe we ought to do a weekly food porn thread? Share camel roasting recipes and such?

As a matter of fact, the sales rep who just scored a distribution deal for my film THE WATERMELON is coming over for dinner tomorrow. I’m cooking Chicken Parmesan over pasta and baking bread.

I could offer a few photos of that, I suppose, if the interest is there.

... a distribution deal for my film THE WATERMELON ...

Congratulations, Brad!

yetanotherfreakingbrit -

Thanks. Now watch - I’ll louse up dinner and lose the deal.

Here’s one of my recipes from a Montrose Beer and Gun Club cook-off.

You cut open a cow, and pull the guts out, then shove a pig inside of it and staple it back together.

Put guts aside for later, then you drink some beer.

Then you steal a cement mixer, and drink some more beer and and try to shoot some bottles off the nearest fence.

Then you dig a pit, which requires taking a break afterward because it is really hot in Texas, so you drink some more beer, maybe a couple of shots of tequila, and try to talk some of the girls into taking their tops off. If that doesn’t work, give them more tequila.

Repeat until successful.

Then you throw some old tires in the pit, glaze them with a medium octane gasoline and flambe them from a safe distance of a couple feet or so.

Then you try to shoot some bottles off the fenders of the cement mixer waiting for the tires to get going real good, trying not to breath the fumes too much because you might get sick and throw up too soon.

And then

Oh yeah drink some more beer.

Then you throw the cow with the pig in it into the back of the cement mixer, drink some more beer, drive the cement mixer so that the barrel is situated over the flaming tire pit, then put the barrel in gear and rotisserate that sunuvabitch until it smells done or the cement mixer catches on fire and explodes.

I think you make sandwiches with it, but I’ve never remembered this far into the recipe because I’m either in the blackout stages of an alcoholic stupor or being rushed to a hospital.

Bone Apetite

If it comes out too thick, you call it stew.

or re-soupify by pouring some beer in it.

also

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