Chicken and Vegetable Soup with Stock from the Montreal Gazette

The Montreal Gazette featured an article on how to make stock a few weeks ago just as I was buying a whole chicken and a bunch of legs. Perfect. Chicken soup stock. I used the roasted vegetable recipe at the end, but browned my chicken bones along with it as it said to do in article itself. The result – a dark stock, not clear, but richly flavoured, and a delicious chicken and vegetable soup.

It was just going to be a vegetable soup – onion, garlic, carrots, celery, and kale at the end – but I had this leftover chicken meat from my slow-cooked Indian lemon chicken recipe (1 1/2 chickens is a lot for a lone female). And I had a head of cabbage I had no idea what to do with, so I tossed those in too, and turned the dish into a meal. Sure, you don’t have to make the stock from scratch, but there’s nothing like it. I’m not going to preach. Read the article.

Then do this:

Sauté 1 diced onion, 2 minced cloves of garlic, 2 diced celery stalks, and 2 diced carrots (all about the same size pieces except the garlic) in 1 tbsp of olive oil over medium heat for about 6 minutes, or until the onion is translucent and soft. Then add 1 tbsp tomato paste, 4 cups of chicken stock (or a mix of chicken stock and water if you’re stingy), half a head of chopped cabbage, a bay leaf, a few sprigs of fresh thyme and/or parsley (or 1 tsp dried), and bring the pot to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer about 10 minutes, or until the cabbage and carrots are soft. Then add a cup of chopped kale, about a cup of cooked chicken and 1/2 tsp salt if it needs it. A little freshly grated pepper never hurt either. Cook until the kale is softened (about 3 minutes if you removed the ribs and about 7-9 if you left them on). Garnish with 1/4 cup chopped parsley if you have it. Or chives, or anything green. 

Done. Now just don’t burn your tongue. Let it cool a tiny bit to get the most flavour. The cabbage is sweet, the broth is rich (not fatty – just flavourful. Yes, that’s possible), and the vegetables haven’t been cooked within an inch of their mushy lives.