I haven’t felt well lately — something about impaired blood sugar and low potassium, both of which are butt-kicking maladies. Not one to let this just slide on by without notice, I’ve concocted a chicken soup guaranteed to either cure you, kill you, or turn you into a great Jewish mother.
Here’s the recipe:
1 boneless, skinless chicken breast; 2 likewise naked chicken thighs. I like the kind of chickens that are treated nice with all natural foods rather than those poor things who eat nothing but ground-up rubber tires and metal spikes … and they get to frolic in the woods all day and sleep on memory foam mattresses at night. You know. HAPPY chickens with soft thighs and breasts like pillows.
Boil the heck out of ’em in about four cups of water spiced with garlic powder, basil, parsley and dried soup greens. Cook the chicken pieces until they really, really fall apart, probably about an hour or as long as it takes to have a nice nap. Reserve the broth because you’ll add thingys to it later.
Slice up some carrots, celery, green onion, mushrooms, cabbage, zucchini, or anything else that strikes your fancy — except, of course, your fingers … or that chocolate bar that you’ve been hiding from the kids. But go ahead, add the kitchen sink. Who cares? With this recipe, you’ll be half soused by the time you eat it anyway. I try to use as many organic veggies as possible in this recipe. Really. I’d rather die from a freak encounter with a raccoon than be killed by my own soup.
Put all the veggies in your salad spinner, wash ’em down and then make them all whoo-whoo spinny, dizzy and screaming like you were in bed last night — but that’s another story entirely.
When the chicken’s done, shred it like you’d do that bad boy ex-husband of yours in court. You know what I’m talkin’ about, girl.
Add into the pot a cup or two of some good organic chicken broth, your shredded chicken, the veggies, about a quarter cup of barley, half a package of noodles, salt and pepper to taste, and some chili powder for a bit of pow-zing. I’d have added some dry white wine too, but I seem to have consumed it all. Oops. Silly me!
Cook it all for about as long as it takes to slug down a gin and tonic since the wine’s all gone.
When everything’s all soft and yummy, including your mood, spoon the soup into a bowl, add a garnish on the top and serve it to your hubby while wearing only a little French maid’s apron.
I guarantee you’ll have a great night … and your health with be better than ever!