The Perfect Chicken Soup

 

I woke up this morning really craving some chicken soup. Not just any chicken soup...my own homemade chicken soup. 

 

So this afternoon, I went into my kitchen, pulled out my big silver pot and half filled it with water. I opened the freezer and pulled out four large, boneless chicken breasts, put them in the pot and turned on the stove. Half an hour later, the house took on the delicious aroma of home cooking.

 

The chicken being done, I pulled it out of the pot, cut it up and added some chicken broth I had in the fridge. By this time, my secret was out and I was hearing choruses of “something smells good!” from the living room. I smiled to myself, anticipating my husband’s grateful smile as we would sit down to dinner later on. 

 

Next, I pulled out my best knife from the drawer and some vegetables from the icebox and began cutting. I always do onions first. They are my least favorite to cut, but at the same time, they provide so much satisfaction doing so. I love the smell of a good onion, I love what they add to just about any dish…although they often bring me to tears. After the onion is diced and tears are streaming down my face, I cut the carrots. They crunch under the blade of my knife and I can’t help taking a taste. I savor the sweetness in my mouth. This is going to be some good soup. Unfortunately I can’t find the celery I thought for sure I had; I briefly think about going next door, but celery is such a strange thing to borrow that I decide I’ll just have to do without. 

 

At this point my son comes in the kitchen. He is eager to help, so I think, why not? Isn’t that what cooking is all about? Love? Nourishment? Having fun together? So I hand him the contents of my cutting board and he puts them in the pot. 

 

Next step – spices. I open my cabinet and start pulling spices out. I open each one and inhale their fragrance deeply. My son just looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but then he does the same, commenting “this one smells a bit minty”, and “I really like this one”. He is my son, after all!  He asks if he can add them as well. I tell him sure, go ahead! I offer each to him, pouring some into his outstretched palm and watch as he combines them with the other ingredients. 

 

He gives them a good stir, looks into the pot and informs me that something is missing…something green. I ask “Celery?” “Yes, that’s it.” I tell him I couldn’t find it, so I’m making do. He tells me he remembers seeing it and opens the fridge. He pulls out a jar of salsa and behind it, there lies my celery! My son is one of those talented kids who just ‘knows’ where everything is. He asks me to quiz him…”go ahead, Mom, ask me where anything you can’t find is.” I look at him and ask “My sanity?” He bursts out laughing. Back to the cutting board and the celery.

 

At this time, my son’s attention wanders to the TV in the living room. He tells me, “We have to go to the CIA museum.” “Huh?” He repeats his statement. I playfully ask him if he’s going to turn into one of those CIA wanna-be’s. He plays along and tells me that he IS a CIA agent. Then out of the blue he smiles and says “Roswell is real.” I reply “Oh, is it?” He then tells me with a laugh, “You now know too much” and in his best Achmed the Dead Terrorist voice “I’ll have to keeeel you.” 

 

We laugh at that and he asks for a piece of the celery I’m cutting and I think how lucky I am to have this kid with me in my kitchen. He chomps on his stalk and decides to try his joke on his dad in the living room, but Dad doesn’t find him funny. Maybe it’s a location joke – the kind where you have to be there. 

 

He tells me as I’m dicing that I should have my own cooking show. I laugh at that and just ask “Why?” He tells me “because you’re such a good cook.” I resist the urge to ask him what he wants and just accept the compliment.

 

He adds the celery to the pot and I tell him we have to let it simmer for a while. In about an hour or so, I’ll add a can of corn and then some pasta. And then it will be dinner time.

 

He stirs the pot thoughtfully, telling me that he wished he liked chicken soup, cause it was so much fun to make. I look at him and sigh…”but you like everything we put in there?” He just shrugs his shoulders, gives the pot another stir and asks me to make him a jelly sandwich. Go figure. 

Author's Note

This afternoon...in my kitchen.

Reviews

[hhoosh]

I'm 18 years old, and a boy, but I really felt the warmth of a mother here. I normally don't find those feelings in writing (Or for most of the stories I've reviewed on WC) but here I did, and I really enjoyed it.

From the literary standpoint, I guess this story was O.K. Nothing special, but then again, maybe that's exactly what you wanted. What more is there to bonding than just knowing that that special person is there beside you?
I don't really have anything to critique. Or anything I can see.

Honestly, I am very impressed. Very emotive.

[Initium]

:)
i likey.

[Lind]

A fun story of sharing between a mom and her child! Loved it, especially the jelly sandwich part!

[Legion]

ha! Kids. Got to love them. Fun read.

[Wicahpi]

LoL A Jelly Sandwich after all that. Funny kids! Sounds like a wonderful time in the kitchen. It's nice that your son likes to help. So many kids today don't even think about helping their mothers.

This was a fun story to read, even the CIA part..lol. Now, try making chicken soup with 4 dogs watching you!! They even LOVE Celery!! Well as long as it has peanut butter on it..hehehe True story!

[Angel's Lady]

What a wonderful afternoon...I am certainly jealous as I love homemade chicken soup! I'm glad you found the celery!

Great write! Truly wonderful story...

[Samuel Dickens]

I'm a cooking man who makes chicken soup and is often aided in the kitchen by my teenage son, so your simple but heart-warming tale is familiar to me. Cooking alone can be theraputic, but doing it with your child makes it a pure delight. Thanks for letting me ride along.