The Chicken Soup I Make All Fall
An unfussy, make-it-by-feel recipe for chilly evenings, sniffly noses, and sharing with someone who could use a warm meal.
There is something wonderfully nostalgic about the beginning of fall.
The mornings turn crisp. The leaves begin changing almost imperceptibly, and suddenly our evenings are filled with the bustle of fall activities. Lately, the faint sound of the marching band practicing for the homecoming halftime show has become our evening soundtrack, while my oldest changes her mind—again—about what she wants to be for Halloween.
And, almost without noticing, the way we eat begins to change too.
At the vegetable stand, I'm reaching less for the bright produce of summer and coming home with squash, beets and hearty potatoes. The windows stay open a little longer while I cook, and the meals slowly become warmer.
This soup is one of the first things I come back to every year.
There's nothing revolutionary about it. No reinventing the wheel. It's simply a really good, classic chicken soup—the kind of recipe I know by heart and make mostly by feel.
When little noses start to sniffle, when the week has gotten away from us, or when I need an easy lunch or dinner that will feed everyone, I know exactly what to put on the stove.
I usually make a large pot and serve it with a loaf of rustic French bread. And if I'm already making one batch, it's just as easy to make enough for someone else.
We've carried containers of this soup to neighbors, postpartum friends and grandparents. Maybe that's part of why I love it so much.
Some recipes aren't meant to impress. They're meant to take care of people.
And this is one of ours.
My Make-It-By-Feel Chicken Soup
A small disclaimer before we begin: I’ve made this soup enough times that I rarely measure the vegetables anymore. Consider these amounts a starting point rather than a set of rules. Have an extra carrot? Throw it in. Love mushrooms? Add more. Feeding a crowd? Make the pot a little bigger.
That's part of the beauty of this one.
What You'll Need
1 large onion, diced
6 medium carrots, chopped
5 celery stalks, chopped
1 package mushrooms, sliced
Olive oil, enough to lightly coat the bottom of the pot
Cooked chicken from approximately 1 whole roasted chicken, chopped or shredded
2 large jars bone broth- 64 oz (8 cups)
½ tablespoon dried rosemary
½ tablespoon dried sage
½ tablespoon dried thyme
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1 cup uncooked farro
Rustic French bread, for serving
For a gluten-free version, swap the farro for rice and serve alongside your favorite gluten-free bread.
How I Make It
Coat the bottom of a large soup pot with a little olive oil and add the carrots, celery, onion and mushrooms.
Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables begin to soften and the onions become golden and slightly caramelized.
Add the rosemary, sage, thyme, pepper and salt. Stir everything together and let the herbs warm in the pot for a minute or so.
Pour in the bone broth and add the chopped or shredded chicken.
Bring the soup to a gentle simmer, then add the farro. Continue simmering for about 25–30 minutes, or until the farro is tender and the vegetables are cooked through.
Taste before serving and adjust the herbs, salt and pepper as needed.
Ladle into big bowls and serve warm with torn pieces of crusty French bread.
Made to Be Shared
I think there is something particularly comforting about showing up at someone's door with food.
It doesn't fix a hard season. It doesn't make the new baby sleep or clear the week's schedule or make someone feel better overnight.
It simply says, I thought about you. Dinner is one less thing you have to think about tonight.
Maybe that's why this simple soup has found its way to so many tables besides our own.
So make the big pot.
Eat it while the marching band practices somewhere in the distance and the evening gets dark a little earlier than you expected.
And if there's enough left over, fill a container and take some to someone you love.
Some recipes become traditions. Maybe others become a way of taking care of each other.
