Chicken Soup For The Bowl
In order for this post to make sense, you have to imagine a little white ball in a little yellow pool. There's nothing wrong with this little white ball (a matzo ball, matzah ball, matzoh ball, or however else you want to spell it) in this little yellow pool (an image I found online, everywhere),
but I wondered, during Passover last month, if something could be done to make it better (and to make an immense mess in the kitchen) as I continue to cook for Lisa. To be fair and truthful, this one was really cooking for ME, though Lisa did eat and enjoy the result, if not the mess.
To begin, I had to address the little white ball and to see if I could make it more interesting. Let it be said here to anyone who has made and served these little white balls to me that I have no problem at all with them. Still, here's a path that readers of The Peerless Ear might find worth reading and even following.
It starts with stock. Most recipes call for water or chicken stock, Well, water tastes like water, and most stock that you buy in a can or carton (or that you produce by dissolving powder in water) is uninteresting, at best, and horrible much of the time. So, I began with a version of Mark Bittman's roasted vegetable stock. I roasted a pan of vegetables in a 425 degree oven (a package of mushrooms, two or three ribs of celery with leaves,
two onions, six cloves of garlic, two or three carrots, and a couple of potatoes). If I'd had some leeks or parsnips, I'd have thrown them in as well, all of it tossed with some olive oil. About an hour later, they emerged. At this point in the recipe (actually, about a paragraph earlier in this recipe), it's a good idea to go upstairs and close the doors in the bedrooms, unless you believe (as I do) that it's a good thing to have your pillows smell like The Carnegie Deli. In an hour, the vegetables will emerge, fragrant and lovely.
Plop them into a pot with lots of water (8 cups or so) and some parsley, thyme, peppercorns, and a half cup or more of white wine. Bring to a boil and then simmer with it just barely bubbling along for another hour or so.
Now here's the first safety precaution of this section of "Cooking For Lisa." If you like the pan that you used to roast the vegetables, do not do what I did the first time I tried this. I always like to clean as I go when I'm cooking for Lisa, so, after I'd scooped the vegetables into the pot, I put the pyrex pan into the sink and rinsed it off. This was a very bad thing to do. The glass cracked instantly with a bang that alarmed the dog. Try to avoid this.
It starts with stock. Most recipes call for water or chicken stock, Well, water tastes like water, and most stock that you buy in a can or carton (or that you produce by dissolving powder in water) is uninteresting, at best, and horrible much of the time. So, I began with a version of Mark Bittman's roasted vegetable stock. I roasted a pan of vegetables in a 425 degree oven (a package of mushrooms, two or three ribs of celery with leaves,
two onions, six cloves of garlic, two or three carrots, and a couple of potatoes). If I'd had some leeks or parsnips, I'd have thrown them in as well, all of it tossed with some olive oil. About an hour later, they emerged. At this point in the recipe (actually, about a paragraph earlier in this recipe), it's a good idea to go upstairs and close the doors in the bedrooms, unless you believe (as I do) that it's a good thing to have your pillows smell like The Carnegie Deli. In an hour, the vegetables will emerge, fragrant and lovely. 
Anyhow, with the stock safely simmering away and the pan cooling off in one piece, I turned my attention to the soup itself. Using the insert of a large crock pot, because I don't have a large casserole any longer (having rinsed mine, which was hot at the time, as I recall, with cold water one time, a while back, with predictable results), I began to construct the soup. I started with chicken thighs,
and then I added tomatoes, vermouth, onions, carrots, celery, a bay leaf or two, salt, pepper, garlic, parsley, and tarragon. Many of these performers have appeared earlier in this particular episode, but that's perfectly fine.
It will look something like this, I suppose. Stick it in a 375 oven, covered, for about 90 minutes. If you haven't broken your large casserole, it can be a bit less time. My crock pot bowl is huge, but things take a while to cook in it, even when it's in the oven.
The stock is bubbling and the chicken is cooking, and now it's time to get to work on your matzo balls. You'll need matzo meal for this, but you can easily make some yourself with some matzo and a food processor. I started with the recipe on the side of the box and then went from there. The proportions are four eggs and some pepper and a teaspoon of salt to a cup of meal,
with 1/4 cup of vegetable oil (no, I didn't use schmaltz, which is rendered chicken fat and would, I'm sure, have been wonderful) and then you add not water but a quarter cup of SELTZER,
which makes you feel a bit like a crazy person but, in theory, makes the results lighter somehow, though that hardly is the point for a recipe like this.
Anyhow, in it went, sparking away and, I expect, rather surprised not to be in a glass with a slice of lime or a splash of pink grapefruit juice. Life is hard for seltzer, probably.
I put in some parsley as well, though fresh dill would be a nice idea,
and then I put the whole thing in the fridge to chill for a few hours. Now would be a good time to walk the dog. The stock will bubble responsibly, the chicken will cook on its own, and the matzo will cool off nicely. Go ahead. Walk the dog. He's probably going a bit crazy due to the smell.
When you get back, it'll probably be time to take care of the stock.
Strain it into a bowl or a pitcher or something, and press the vegetables through the holes in order to get as much out of them as you can. It will be fragrant and dark. Make sure that the bowl you're pouring it into is larger than the colander you're using, or you'll pour stock all over the counter and the floor, not that I'm speaking from memory. Only the dog knows.
Then, reluctantly, discard the veggie goo. What you've got left will be wonderful. Make a lot and use it in everything. Indeed, in a few episodes of "Cooking For Lisa," the veggie stock
will make a brief but crucial appearance in some braised short ribs, which turned out to be almost alarmingly good.
We're now at the messiest part of the process: the forming of the knaidlach, or matzo balls. By the way, there are even more spellings for "knaidl" than there are for "matzo." Deal with it. The mixture will have settled in the fridge and will be ready for sculpting.
First, I put some saffron in a pot with half water and half vegetable stock and brought the whole thing to a low boil. Then, I formed the matzo balls into spheres about the size of slightly large ping pong balls
and plopped them in. If you pack and squeeze as you form them, they'll wind up being able to bounce like ping pong balls, which is fun but not so appetizing, so try to have a light touch. There's no way to avoid making a mess, but it's a good idea to keep your hands wet so they won't get sticky as you scoop and roll.
Let them cook for about 30 minutes, rolling around in there. They'll get larger as they cook and absorb the stock. You'll consider making HUGE ones as you watch them grow. Resist the impulse if you can.
By now, the chicken will be done,
and it's time to assemble and eat. First, fish out the chicken (Can one "chicken out a fish"? I think not) and cut it up. Discard the bay leaf. Every recipe always says that, and who am I to disagree? If your chicken had bones, remove them. Mine did not for this recipe, but it will be even more rich if yours does. So, cut it into pieces that correspond to the mouth sizes of the people you're cooking for and put the whole thing in a pot.
If you're moving smoothly from task to task, you'll be able to use THE SAME pot for the stock, then the balls, and now the soup. Go for it. Add stock so that the soup seems like soup. Remember, you'll want liquid so that the matzo balls have something to swim in. And now, there's really nothing left but the fun part. Put a matzo ball in a bowl. OK, put TWO matzo balls in a bowl. Who am I trying to kid?
Then, cover it with the soup and enjoy. Oh, and don't go swimming for a while. Yes, there's seltzer in the matzoh balls. They'll float. You, however, will definitely sink.
Thanks for being my unseen readers. Next up is the second installment of "Cornered and Kicked," which will cover the beginning of the North Branford Legends' spring season. As I write this, we're 1-2, having lost a 2-1 heartbreaker in our last match. We play on Sunday mornings, and I can never walk until Wednesday or Thursday, but that shouldn't keep me from writing.
dml
