Chicken and Rice Soup -- The Pot I Made Just Because It Felt Right

Two weeks until the LSU Junior Academy of Science started and I had settled into a pre-program preparation mode that Mama called "adorably extra." I had reviewed all my notes on cell biology and basic chemistry, made flashcards for scientific vocabulary I thought I might encounter, and researched three of the faculty mentors who would be leading sessions. I wanted to walk in knowing something. I wanted to walk in ready.

I also started worrying, which is my other preparation mode. I worried about whether the other students would be intimidating, whether I would know enough, whether I would feel out of place in a university setting. I come from a neighborhood that nobody has ever called prestigious and I was going to a campus where everything is manicured and grand and carries the weight of a hundred and fifty years of history. I knew I belonged. I also let myself feel the worry without apologizing for it.

Jamal called to check in and I told him about my worries. He said something that surprised me. He said, "You know what I do before a big game? I stop preparing and just do the thing. At some point, all the prep becomes another word for fear." I had never thought about it that way. I told him that was surprisingly wise for someone who still thought dad jokes were funny. He said the two things were not mutually exclusive.

I channeled my restlessness into cooking. I made a big pot of chicken and rice soup — not because anyone asked for it, not because anyone was sick, just because it felt grounding. There is something about soup that is the opposite of anxiety: it requires patience and warmth and it builds itself slowly from humble ingredients into something that sustains people. I added lemon and dill at the end, which I don't usually do, and it brightened the whole thing. Mama took a bowl and said it tasted like comfort. That was exactly what I was going for.

I went to bed that night with my bags half-packed for LSU and my mind a little quieter. Ready-ish, which might be the most honest version of ready there is.

The soup I made that night before LSU wasn’t from a recipe card — it was from instinct. I had restless hands and a busy mind, and I needed something that would force me to slow down, tend to something, and trust the process. This chicken and rice soup is as close as I can get to bottling that feeling: patient, warm, and quietly sustaining. I add lemon and dill at the very end now, every single time, because Mama was right — it tastes exactly like comfort.

Chicken and Rice Soup

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts or thighs
• 1 cup long-grain white rice, uncooked
• 3 medium carrots, peeled and sliced
• 3 stalks celery, sliced
• 1 medium yellow onion, diced
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 8 cups low-sodium chicken broth
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 teaspoon dried thyme
• 1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 1 lemon)
• 1 teaspoon lemon zest
• 2 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried)
• Fresh parsley for garnish, optional

Instructions

1. Build the base. Heat olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion, carrots, and celery and cook for 5–6 minutes, stirring occasionally, until softened. Add garlic and cook another minute until fragrant.
2. Add broth and chicken. Pour in the chicken broth and nestle the whole chicken pieces into the pot. Stir in thyme, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a gentle simmer.
3. Simmer the chicken. Cover and cook for 20–25 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through and tender. Remove the chicken pieces and set aside to cool slightly.
4. Cook the rice. While the chicken rests, add the uncooked rice to the simmering broth. Cook uncovered for 15–18 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the rice is just tender.
5. Shred and return. Shred the cooked chicken using two forks and stir it back into the pot.
6. Brighten at the end. Remove the pot from heat. Stir in the lemon juice, lemon zest, and fresh dill. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed. This final step transforms the whole pot — don’t skip it.
7. Serve. Ladle into bowls and garnish with fresh parsley if desired. Serve warm with crusty bread or on its own.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 540mg