Whole Chicken and Rice Soup

Last full week of summer before I start packing for DeKalb. I've been making lists — what to bring, what to buy, what to cook before I leave — because lists are the illusion of control and I am a woman who needs her illusions right now. Mom caught me reorganizing the pantry at eleven on a Tuesday night and said, "Amanda Jean, go to bed." I did not go to bed. I labeled the shelf where I put the extra canned tomatoes. The labels will help. The labels will not actually help. But they're straight and they're there and that's something.

I made chicken and rice soup on Wednesday — a whole chicken from Aldi, $4.99, simmered with carrots, celery, onion until the meat falls off the bone. You pull the chicken out, shred it, put it back in with rice and let it cook until the rice is soft and the broth is thick enough to feel like a meal. This is not a summer soup. This is a September soup, an October soup, a soup for people who are cold or sad or both. I made it in August because I wanted something that felt like being held, and a pot of soup is the closest I know how to get without asking someone to hold me, which I am not going to do because I am twenty-one and fine.

Jess came over on Thursday. She sat at the kitchen table and ate soup and told me she'd been to three counseling sessions in a row without canceling. Three. In a row. I did not throw a parade. I ate my soup. Under the table, my foot was tapping so fast it probably registered on a seismograph. Three sessions. Three walks a week now, she said. She's sleeping better. She's eating. I am writing these things down like a scientist recording data points, each one a small bright pin in a map I'm trying to read as a route toward okay.

Saturday I went to Babcia Rose's and we made potato pancakes — grated potato, onion, egg, flour, fried in oil until the edges curl and go dark gold. She fries hers in lard. I use vegetable oil. She says mine are inferior. She's probably right. We ate them with sour cream and applesauce and she told me a story about her mother making them during the war, and for a moment her kitchen in Oak Lawn was a kitchen in Poland and the oil was popping and the years were nothing and the food was the same food and the hands were the same hands, just older, just mine now too.

The potato pancakes were for Babcia Rose, but the soup — the soup was mine, made the week before, eaten alone at my kitchen table with my foot tapping under it. When everything feels like it’s moving too fast or not fast enough, I go back to the things that take time: a whole chicken, cold water, the long simmer that slowly turns nothing into something. Here’s how I made it.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 30 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 45 minutes | Servings: 6–8

Ingredients

1 whole chicken (3–4 lbs), giblets removed
3 medium carrots, peeled — 2 halved for the broth, 1 sliced for the soup
3 stalks celery — 2 halved for the broth, 1 sliced for the soup
1 large yellow onion — half quartered for the broth, half diced for the soup
4 cloves garlic, smashed
2 bay leaves
1 tsp dried thyme
10–12 cups cold water
2/3 cup long-grain white rice
1 1/2 tsp salt, plus more to taste
1/2 tsp black pepper, plus more to taste
Fresh parsley, chopped, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Simmer the chicken. Place the whole chicken in a large stockpot. Add the halved carrots, halved celery, quartered onion half, garlic, bay leaves, and thyme. Cover with cold water. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a gentle simmer. Cook uncovered for 60–75 minutes, until the chicken is fully cooked and the meat pulls easily from the bone.
Pull the chicken and strain the broth. Carefully lift the whole chicken out and set it on a cutting board to cool for 10 minutes. Strain the broth through a fine-mesh strainer back into the pot; discard the spent vegetables and bay leaves. You should have roughly 8–9 cups of broth.
Shred the chicken. When the chicken is cool enough to handle, pull all the meat from the bones, discarding the skin and bones. Shred or chop the meat into bite-sized pieces and set aside.
Build the soup. Bring the strained broth to a simmer over medium heat. Add the sliced carrot, sliced celery, and diced onion. Cook for 8–10 minutes, until the vegetables begin to soften.
Add the rice. Stir in the rice and 1 1/2 tsp salt. Simmer for 18–20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the rice is tender and the broth has thickened slightly.
Return the chicken and season. Add the shredded chicken back to the pot and stir to combine. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. Let it cook another 2–3 minutes to warm the chicken through. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh parsley if you have it.

Nutrition (per serving)

Whole Chicken and Rice Soup — The August Soup I Made Because I Needed to Feel Held