Lemon Chicken Soup

Back to school. Year thirty-nine. The number astonishes me when I write it — thirty-nine years of walking into Oceanside High School, of standing in front of teenagers, of teaching them that words matter and close reading matters and the difference between "its" and "it's" is not pedantry but civilization. Thirty-nine years. One more and I will have taught for four decades, which is a phrase that sounds like something from a retirement speech, and I am not giving a retirement speech. I am not retiring. I will teach until my body or my mind gives out, whichever comes first, and given the stubbornness of both, it will be a while.

Ethan starts preschool this week. Three and a half years old, his first classroom. I drove to White Plains for the first day — of course I did — and I brought rugelach for the teachers, because this is what Ruth Feldman does: she brings rugelach to first days of school. I have been doing this since David's first day of kindergarten in 1989, and I will do it until I run out of grandchildren or rugelach, neither of which is likely.

Ethan walked into the classroom with his backpack — a small backpack, absurdly small, designed for a person whose personal effects consist of a juice box and a crayon — and he did not look back. He walked in with Irving's quiet confidence, the same forward motion, the same refusal to hesitate. David, standing beside me, said, "He didn't even turn around." I said, "He doesn't need to. He knows we're here." David's eyes were wet. Jennifer's were wet. Mine were dry, because I have spent thirty-nine years watching children walk into classrooms and I have learned to hold the tears until I'm in the car, where the tears are private and the drive home is long enough to recover.

I cried in the car. Not a lot. Enough. The tears of a grandmother watching the chain extend another link — another generation walking into a room full of strangers and learning to be in the world. Irving did this, walking into a factory. Sylvia did this, walking into a grocery store. I did this, walking into a classroom. David did this, walking into a hospital. And now Ethan, walking into preschool with a backpack and a courage he does not yet know he has.

I made chicken soup when I got home. The big pot. The serious pot. Because Ethan started school, and the soup is the response, and the response is the tradition, and the tradition is the chain, and the chain doesn't break. Not today.

So yes, I made the soup. The big pot, the serious pot, the one Irving bought me at the restaurant supply store on Northern Boulevard in 1987 because he said a woman who cooks the way I cook deserves a pot that means business. Lemon chicken soup — bright and golden and sharp enough to cut through the sentimentality of a grandmother who just watched her grandson walk into a classroom without looking back. This is the recipe, or close enough to it, because some things you measure and some things you just know.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large yellow onion, diced
3 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into rounds
3 celery stalks, sliced
4 cloves garlic, minced
8 cups chicken broth (low-sodium)
1 1/2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice (about 2 large lemons)
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 cup orzo pasta
3 cups fresh baby spinach
2 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Instructions

Sauté the vegetables. Heat olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion, carrots, and celery. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more.
Simmer the chicken. Pour in the chicken broth and bring to a boil. Add the chicken breasts whole, reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer until the chicken is cooked through, about 20 minutes.
Shred the chicken. Remove the chicken breasts to a cutting board. Using two forks, shred the meat into bite-sized pieces. Set aside.
Cook the orzo. Return the broth to a gentle boil. Add the orzo and cook until tender, about 8 minutes, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking.
Finish the soup. Reduce heat to low. Stir in the shredded chicken, lemon juice, lemon zest, and spinach. Cook until the spinach is just wilted, about 2 minutes. Stir in the fresh dill and season with salt and pepper to taste.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and serve hot. A little extra lemon squeezed on top never hurt anyone.

Nutrition (per serving)

Lemon Chicken Soup — The Soup That Answers Everything