A One Bowl Romance - Chicken Fennel Soup With Miso

Terry Buchanan
14 minutes ago
3 min read

There are weeks when I want to make something elaborate. Something with a torch. Something that requires YouTubing techniques like spherification.

And then there are weeks when I realize I am tired in a way that no crispy garnish is going to fix.

This was that week.

Not sick. Not sad. Just depleted. The kind of tired that settles behind your eyes and makes even your own kitchen feel a little too loud. I’ve learned that when that feeling arrives, it is not asking for takeout. It is asking for a pot of soup.

Not flashy. Not trending. Just something bright, clean, and restorative.

I did not have homemade chicken stock waiting in the freezer. What I did have was a turkey carcass. So into a pot it went with the scraps from the celery, onion, and fennel I was prepping anyway. A couple of hours later, I had a deeply flavorful broth that felt like it had earned its place.

If you are using store-bought, choose the best chicken bone broth you can find. This soup leans heavily on the integrity of the broth.

The soup itself begins simply. Two large fennel bulbs, chopped small. If you think you dislike fennel because of its assertive licorice personality, let me reassure you. Once it softens in olive oil with onion, celery, and garlic, it becomes gentle and almost sweet. It loses its sharp edges, which felt appropriate.

Chicken went in next, cut small so it would cook kindly and quickly. A bundle of thyme and sage tied with kitchen twine, two bay leaves, and then a generous pour of that fragrant stock.

Bring it to a boil. Then lower the flame. That part felt like advice for more than soup.

Thirty minutes later, steam had softened the windows and Newt had stationed himself hopefully at my feet, convinced that gravity might assist him in his culinary ambitions.

When the heat was off, I stirred in miso. Four tablespoons. Earthy, savory, quietly powerful. Miso adds depth without heaviness. It rounds out the broth as though it has been thinking about life for a while.

The first spoonful felt restorative in a way I can’t quite quantify. Not exciting. Not flashy. Just right.

And then, because life insists on humility, I left the Tupperware containers on the counter overnight.

The next morning, I stood there looking at it, knowing full well what food safety requires. There would be no reheated comfort, no second or third bowl. Into the sink it went.

But as I poured it out, I realized I had already received what I needed.

That one bowl. That quiet half hour. That small light turning back on.

Sometimes the nourishment is not in the leftovers. Sometimes it is in the making.

And sometimes it is enough to have had the bowl.

INGREDIENTS

5 to 6 cups chicken stock

2 large fennel bulbs, chopped small, fronds reserved

4 celery stalks, chopped small

1 large onion, chopped small

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 tablespoons olive oil

Fresh thyme and or sage, tied in a bouquet garni