Oodles of Noodles

January. The real winter. The one that comes after the holiday winter, which is winter with lights and cookies and purpose, and gives way to the actual winter, which is dark and cold and the wind comes off the prairie like it has a personal grudge against anyone who lives here. January in Iowa is an endurance event. You endure it with soup and blankets and the dogged belief that spring will come eventually, which it will, in April, which is three months away, which is forever.

Back to school for the kids. Back to work for me. Back to the routine that November and December disrupted, the daily mechanics of getting three children to school and two adults to work and a household fed and running. Monday was chicken noodle soup — the January soup, the cure-all, the thing I make when the world is cold and the calendar is empty and the best response to the weather is a pot of something hot and healing. Egg noodles, not dried pasta, because egg noodles are what Marlene used and egg noodles absorb the broth differently, softer, more giving, more like food and less like a delivery system.

I cleaned out the pantry — the New Year's purge, inventory and reorganize. The canning jars from August are lined up on the shelves: sweet corn, green beans, pickles, tomatoes, salsa. Forty-seven jars. I counted. Forty-seven jars of food I grew and preserved and put up in a kitchen that smelled like August and will feed us until the garden grows again. The count matters. Not because the number is impressive but because each jar is a decision — to grow, to harvest, to preserve, to carry summer through winter. Forty-seven decisions. Forty-seven small acts of faith that the future will need what the past produced. Farming, even at the jar level, is always an act of faith.

Kevin's resolution: exercise more. My resolution: try one new recipe a month, same as last year, because the resolution worked — it pushed me beyond Marlene's card box into risotto and lemon chicken and capers and a world of cooking that I hadn't explored because I hadn't given myself permission to. This year I'm going further. Thai curry. Homemade pasta. Things with tahini. Things that Roger would look at and say, "What is that?" Things that expand the map of what this kitchen can make without erasing where the kitchen started. Both things. Always both things.

Monday’s pot of chicken noodle soup set the tone for the whole week — and when I sat down to write out the recipe the way I actually make it, I realized it’s always been this one: simple, unapologetic, built for the kind of cold that has a grudge. Oodles of Noodles is what I’d call it if I were naming it honestly, because the noodles are the point — soft egg noodles that drink up the broth and become something more than pasta, the way Marlene always intended. If you’ve got a pantry stocked from summer and a January that won’t quit, this is where you start.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into coins
3 stalks celery, sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
8 cups low-sodium chicken broth
2 cups cooked chicken, shredded (rotisserie or poached)
3 cups wide egg noodles, uncooked
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon dried parsley
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
Salt to taste
1 tablespoon fresh parsley, chopped (for serving, optional)

Instructions

Sauté the vegetables. Melt butter in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion, carrots, and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 7–8 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Add broth and seasonings. Pour in the chicken broth and stir in thyme, dried parsley, and black pepper. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat.
Simmer the soup. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer uncovered for 10 minutes to let the flavors develop and the vegetables finish cooking through.
Add chicken and noodles. Stir in the shredded chicken and egg noodles. Return heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until noodles are tender and have absorbed some of the broth, about 8–10 minutes. Do not overcook — egg noodles continue to soften as the soup sits.
Taste and adjust. Season with salt as needed. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh parsley if desired. Serve immediately with crusty bread or crackers.

Nutrition (per serving)

Oodles of Noodles — The January Cure-All That Gets Us Through