Come Into My Kitchen
by

Recently I painted myself into a corner by succumbing to a sale on chicken parts - beautiful plump leg and thigh quarters at the incredible price of 19 cents a pound. Now tell me, what cook in her right mind could pass up a sale like that?

Trouble is, when you get home with your bargain, you have to cook it. And even if you have a large freezer, it doesn't make sense to prepare the chicken for freezing by rinsing and repackaging, labelling and waiting for that urge to finally cook your windfall.

For the same effort and time you can toss it all into a pot, add a few vegetables and seasoning and end up with some good chicken broth. Of course, that brings on simmering, draining, chilling, removing fat, finding suitable size containers to avoid freezing a gallon of the stuff in a solid block, labelling, and finding space in your freezer to house the project and worst of all, staying home. Oh, you feel noble enough, especially if a neighbor falls sick and you can present a bowl of hot, steaming broth to which you might have added a few noodles to give it character and substance.

Which brings up a perennial complaint. Why can't you get a good hen for making a decent chicken soup? Where did all the hens go? I can remember (and probably so can you) when we bought mature hens that yielded a broth capable of curing everything from the vapors to broken bones. Well, O.K., so it didn't cure you but the soup was so therapeutic and made you feel so comforted, you didn't mind the pain so much.

An early memory is watching my mother select a proper hen (live) at the market or from the peddler who came by every day. She would look the bird sternly in the eye, up-end it, blow at the appropriate spot so the feathers would separate and then pronounce the hen suitable or not. I'm still not sure what she was inspecting it for, but the sight fascinated me.

To get back to my day in the kitchen. My windfall yielded many containers of broth, not exactly like the soup of long ago, but decidedly better than the canned variety.
 
I can't agree with those authorities who advise me to make the soup then discard the chicken responsible for it with the excuse that all the flavor will have cooked away. Not me, I ain't discardin' nothin'. Those chicken parts can be salvaged, stripped of their meat, mixed with sauteed onion and celery and lots of seasonings and you've got a respectable hash. If your bargain yields some white meat, you can always convert it into chicken salad and, if you don't brag about how clever you are, you'll get away with it.

To paraphrase a sign in a Russian cafe --

Enjoy the following tried and true soup recipes. They'll provide a warm welcome for family and guests.

1/4 to 1-1/2 pounds fresh broccoli. Trim, peel stems and cut up.
         (or 2 packages frozen chopped broccoli)
2   14-oz. cans chicken broth (or 3-1/2 cups homemade)
1   medium onion, quartered
2   tablespoons butter or margarine
1   teaspoon curry power
1   teaspoon salt
     Dash or two black pepper
1/2 teaspoon seasoning salt
     Generous dash nutmeg
2   tablespoons lemon or lime juice

In a large pot combine all ingredients except nutmeg and lime juice. Bring to a boil, cover and reduce heat to a simmer. Cook about 15 minutes, or until broccoli is barely tender.

Puree in blender in two batches; stir in lime juice and nutmeg. Cover and refrigerate four hours or more before serving. Serve hot or cold. Garnish with slice of lemon or lime and a dab of sour cream topped with a sprinkling of chives. Serves 8.
 

Basic Sauce
3   slices bacon
     Small piece smoked ham (about 3 ounces), diced
1   rounded tablespoon flour
2   pounds onions, chopped fine
3   stalks celery, chopped fine
1   medium green pepper, chopped fine
1   lemon (use grated rind, then remove white pithy membrane and          chop rest of lemon)
3   cloves garlic
2   bay leaves
     Several dashes Worcestershire and Tabasco sauce
     Pinch thyme
     Salt to taste

In heavy skillet fry bacon slowly; remove to paper toweling to drain. To fat in skillet add ham and cook until crisp; remove. Blend flour into fat, stirring constantly, making a brown roux. Add onions; fry slowly until well browned and reduced to a pulp. Stir in remaining ingredients and cook slowly 30 to 45 minutes. (If desire, bacon and ham bits may be returned to sauce.)

To Prepare the Gumbo.
Cut 2 pounds okra into small pieces; cook slowly in about 2 tablespoons fat, stirring often to prevent scorching or browning; cook until okra is no longer ropy. Combine with above basic sauce and cook 20 minutes. Add 4 pounds peeled and cleaned raw shrimp and 1 pound crab meat, then enough water to yield a soupy consistency. Cook about 20 minutes after boiling starts. About 10 minutes before serving, add a handful of chopped green onion tops and minced parsley. Serve in soup plates with mound of rice in center.

(Note: In giving me this recipe, Senator Ellender did not stipulate how many it would serve. Several gumbo fanciers report that this is positively the best gumbo recipe they have ever used. )
 

1   pound navy beans
1   cup chopped celery
1   ham shank
1   teaspoon marjoram (optional)
1   16 oz. can tomatoes
1   bay leaf
3   quarts water
     Salt, pepper to taste
3/4 cup chopped onion
2   cups diced raw potatoes

Soak beans in water overnight. Next day drain and put beans in deep soup kettle with all ingredients except potatoes. Cover and simmer at least 2 hours, until beans are tender.

Remove ham and bay leaf; skim off any fat on surface. Cut ham into small pieces and return to soup. Add potatoes and simmer about an hour longer, or until potatoes are well done. Check seasoning.
 
If soup seems a little thin for your taste remove about 1 and 1/2 cups, put through a sieve or electric blender, and return to soup kettle. (This avoids having to use a thickening agent after soup is done.) Serves 8

(Note: This recipe may be used with a large beef bone instead of ham. A knuckle bone plus some shank bones are a good combination.)