My husband has been sick, so I decided to make him some chicken soup (from scratch, mind you) on Friday afternoon. Now this may not seem like much to many of you, you may be saying, “Big deal, a little soup, whoop-de-do, a little bit of soup.” Making soup isn’t such a grand deal, in fact I do it all the time in the winter months. It’s just that I usually cheat on some part of the experience- the broth/stock part.

In today’s day in age most of us simply cannot be bothered with dragging out the stockpot, cutting up a chicken, skimming that disgusting, chicken-y, grey scum (what is that anyway?), adding the aromatics, and letting this entire concoction simmer for a minimum of two hours. So there are several chicken stocks I have come to depend on from the grocery store. There is one in particular that comes in a tetra-pak (it’s like a giant juice box ‘o broth), made from organic chickens that is really quite good.

But let me tell you, after going through all of the rigmarole, the toiling over the stockpot, it was well worth it. Despite making the house smell of a scrumptious chicken laboratory, the end result was a delicious, rich broth in which to nestle delightfully light Matzo Balls, sharing the bowl with celery and onion, adorned with just a hint of fresh dill. And to think, Brian only needed to get deathly ill in order to reintroduce the wonders of homemade soup to me.