The Perils of Making Chicken Soup


I gotta tell ya- celery is underrated. Without it, chicken soup is just a whole lot of chicken and broth, irregular vegetables, some nice herbs, garlic, and a lot of slippery floor. The latter is a result of being single and not having anyone come over and say, “Hey, Daithi- you gonna clean up that floor?” Not that I am a slob or anything. I mean, what single man vigorously scrubs his floor around the sink and stove twice a day? Come on, that’s so “Martha Stewart.” Chicken broth just naturally spills over onto the floor. It’s a given as an adult single male trying to contain a fowl liquid. Besides, I would never invite Martha Stewart over for dinner- my plates clash with my silverware.

And, you know- I’m sure she isn’t a celery aficionado. But I am. I have been, ever since Peter Davison attached a celery stick to his lapel as the fifth Doctor (Doctor Who). He seemed to be a pretty stable guy, you know- the kind of guy you’d give your dog to – on a leash- if you had to catch that wayward frisbee headed for the pretty woman walking down the street…

But this isn’t about Peter Davison, who, by the way, was the most happy man on BBC-TV during his reign as the smiling veterinarian on “All Creatures Great and Small.” No, this isn’t really about celery, it is mostly about slippery. For everyone knows that making chicken soup “from scratch” is a dangerous thing- especially when you’re wrestling with a stock pot full of broth.

My favorite part of the broth making process involves plopping ice cubes into the waiting vat, then watching them vanish into the swirling fat-laden ocean. By then, the radioactive-like steam rising from Chernnobyl-I mean, the pot- has disappeared into enticing vapors floating around the kitchen. Next in the process, one must use magnificent dexterity, pouring the liquid into level-placed plastic containers. But it isn’t so much the liquid that is the problem, but the containers, which were manufactured in China…while the lids themselves were made in West Detroit on a Monday by people trying to decipher Chinese measurements. I’m sure they are able to decipher Chinese as well as I  can follow a camel herd in Uzbekistan. This becomes evident when trying to screw on the lid- it always fails to match the grooves…and suddenly, I am drenched in eau de chicken broth…

…which is a bad thing when you are as talented as I am. My only consolation is knowing that neither Martha Stewart, nor Peter Davison, can see me now. I feel more like Jamie Oliver…the naked chef…and I am putting those clothes in the washer- Now!

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About thelostkerryman

Thelostkerryman is an author, entrepreneur, and disciple- this side of Tir Na N'Og- living in the forests of a consistently confused country. Here in this hill country, hurling doesn't usually involve a hurley, store-made soda bread resembles an inedible Irish megalith, and Kerrygold is only found hidden like a luck penny in the belly of Kroger. This blog is an account of his adventures, thoughts, eclectic -and eccentric- ramblings, random or insightful poetry, humor and non-humor, pictures (photos), video, essays, fiction, poetic fiction, nonfiction, drama, and writing he has not classified in the description above. All of my posts, thelostkerryman.wordpress.com, everydayasadisciple.wordpress.com, and mrandmrsboring.wordpress.com are copywrited according to international copywrite law.
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4 Responses to The Perils of Making Chicken Soup

  1. lily says:

    Ha, thank you for the laughs on a Sunday evening, as the weekend wanes. Was it not a hot day for chicken soup? In any case, you have triggered all sorts of memories: chicken-soup Saturdays, and watching All Creatures with my kids who have graduated to Dr. Who.
    I use canning jars as containers for soup– not sure but I think they are manufactured here, and the lids fit well. But how did the soup Taste? Did it have noodles, or rice, or neither?
    Nice of you to catch those wayward frisbees, and to appreciate the unassuming yet essential celery stalk. ~ Lily

  2. Daithi says:

    Here in the mountains it was actually in the 70s by evening. I had to cook up a large bird anyway, so why not chicken soup?

  3. Pingback: Hilariously Funny: 2013 | thelostkerryman

  4. gimpet says:

    Chicken soooooouuuuuppp! Mother’s milk for the ailing blogger. This post makes me LONG for homemade chicken soup. Sadly, but a cough-laden, fart-filled dream…..

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