Let Me Tell You About This Soup (and a Story)
Okay, so picture me last winter: slippers on, fuzzy robe, sniffling and generally looking like I lost a wrestling match with a cold. That’s when I remembered my Aunt Rosa’s legendary "Italian Penicillin" Soup—she swore this was the ultimate healing elixir. And you know what? She might have been onto something. I made a huge pot, and for 48 hours straight it was basically all I ate or wanted (my dog also begged for some, which says a lot). Anyway, this soup isn’t fancy-shmancy, but honestly, who needs fussy food when you just want comfort? Oh—side note: don’t attempt this if you’re hoping for something dainty. This is nanna-level stuff.
Why You'll Love This Soup (If You’re Anything Like Me)
I make this whenever someone’s feeling a bit green around the gills or we just need an edible hug. My family goes a little wild for it (I suspect it’s the parmesan rinds—more on that later). Sometimes I even sneak a second bowl before anybody’s noticed, which sounds selfish but hey, chef's privilege! Also, if chopping onions makes you cry as much as it does me, well, welcome to the club; though I’ve found that humming loudly sort of helps. Worst case: wear swimming goggles. Looks silly, works wonders.
What You’ll Need (But I’ve Swapped Things Here & There)
- 2 tablespoon olive oil (my grandma insists on the fancy stuff, but store brand tasted basically the same to me)
- 1 large onion, diced (or three shallots if you’re feeling extra, or just forgot to buy onions—been there)
- 2-3 carrots, chopped
- 3 celery stalks, chopped (I sometimes skip this, and it’s still good)
- 3 garlic cloves, minced (or use the jar kind—it’s fine, trust me)
- 6 cups chicken broth (homemade if you’re a hero, but I mostly use store-bought—no shame)
- 700g chicken thighs, bone-in, skin off—or, a roast chicken picked apart if it’s leftover fridge clean-out day
- 1 or 2 parmesan rinds (optional, but SO worth the minor extra effort—unless your cheese drawer has just mysterious crumbs like mine often does)
- 2 cups baby spinach (or kale if you want to feel virtuous, or nothing if the fridge is empty)
- 100g small pasta, like ditalini or broken spaghetti; you can even use alphabet shapes if you have kids (or if you feel like a big kid—hi, it’s me)
- Salt and black pepper
- Extra parmesan cheese, for serving
- Juice of half a lemon (don’t skip it, but if you forget it’s not the end of the world)
Let’s Cook This (Don’t Stress If It Gets Messy)
- Heat the olive oil over medium in your biggest, sturdiest pot. Add the onion, carrot, and celery. Sweat ‘em out for a good five minutes—don’t let them crisp up. I usually take this time to look for the garlic I just lost (again).
- Stir in the garlic and cook until it stops smelling raw, only a minute or so. Love that bit. Add the chicken thighs right in there. Let them get cozy with all those veg.
- Pour in the chicken broth and toss in the parmesan rinds, if you found any lurking in the cheese drawer. Bring it up to a bubble, then lower and let it all simmer gently—kind of like a lazy river, not a raging rapid—for, I don’t know, 30-ish minutes? (I usually wander off and set a timer because otherwise—oops.)
- Lift the chicken out (tongs work best but I’ve also used a big fork, just try not to splash everywhere), shred the meat with two forks, and plop it right back in. Chuck the bones and any skin, unless you want a bit more flavour (sometimes I let them hang out a few minutes longer, actually).
- Add your pasta straight into the soup—yes, raw’s fine. Simmer until it’s cooked but don’t walk too far away, or it’ll suddenly balloon from perfect to mush (been there; not recommended).
- Baby spinach goes in last, along with lemon juice. Stir until it wilts down. Taste for salt and pepper—this is where I usually sneak a taste spoon. If nobody’s looking, have two.
- Ladle into bowls, shower with extra parmesan, and maybe a drizzle of good olive oil if you’re feeling posh. Done!
Note: Things I Wish I’d Known Earlier
- If you forget the parmesan rind, don’t panic—it’s still delicious. Actually, sometimes I think it’s less funky that way!
- The soup will soak up the broth if it sits, so add more stock or water when reheating. Or just embrace it as a stew. (I do both, depending on the mood.)
- I thought lemon seemed weird, but it makes the broth pop. Trust me. Or not. Your call.
Variations—I’ve Messed With It A Few Times
- I once tried tossing in a can of white beans for extra heft; not bad at all. Probably better with kale, though.
- Tried roasting the veg before adding—delicious, but a step too far on low-energy days.
- I swapped chicken for turkey after Thanksgiving—actually worked great. Ham, however, uh, nope. Moving on.
Equipment I Use (But You Can Improvise)
- Big heavy pot or Dutch oven (mine’s an old Le Creuset; got it at a yard sale for a song—but any heavy-bottomed pot’s fine)
- Wooden spoon
- Tongs or a sturdy fork for wrangling chicken. If you’re desperate, use two big serving spoons and swear at it a bit—works just as well.
How to Store It (Good Luck Having Leftovers)
Scoop leftovers into a container with a lid, let cool, and stick it in the fridge. Keeps for up to three days…though honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day! (I sometimes hide a bowl way at the back behind the pickled onions, shh.) Soup thickens up a lot overnight so it’s kinda more stewby the next day—I kinda love it that way, actually.
How I Serve It (Or, The Ritual)
We always have this with thick crusty bread, the kind that makes enough crumbs to annoy the person who sweeps. Sometimes I top mine with way too much parmesan. The kids go for goldfish crackers (no accounting for taste), and if it’s a big family get-together, we make big plates of sliced oranges on the side—no idea why, but it’s our thing.
Lessons I Learned—A Few Pro Tips
- Once, I tried rushing the simmering part to save time. Regretted it. The chicken never gets as tender, and you miss out on the magic—be patient here.
- If you forget the salt, it tastes a bit dull—err on the side of seasoning and taste as you go. I’ve over-salted too, so, a little at a time’s best.
- Don’t add the pasta too early; it goes gloopy if left to sit. Ask me how I know (hint: I’ve done it more than once).
Real FAQs (and Some Not So Real Ones)
- Can I make this vegetarian? Yup, swap chicken broth for veggie and leave out the chicken—chuck in some beans, maybe fancy mushrooms if you’ve got them.
- What if I don’t have parmesan rinds? It’s totally fine; skip it. Maybe add a splash of Worcestershire sauce if you want funky depth.
- Is this really a healing soup, or just tasty? Well, my Aunt Rosa certainly thought so—and I sort of do too. Feels like a blanket for your insides.
- Can I freeze it? Technically yes, but the pasta gets mushy. Actually, I find it works better if you freeze it without the pasta and just cook some fresh when you reheat.
- What’s with the lemon juice? It brightens everything. But you could skip it if citrus isn't your thing. (I thought it was weird at first, too!)
- Is it still good without spinach? Oh, for sure. I’ve forgotten it plenty of times and, to be honest, nobody spotted the difference until I mentioned it!
So, that’s my Comforting Italian Penicillin Soup for Ultimate Healing—chaos, comfort, and all. If this doesn’t fix your cold, well, it’ll at least make staying home feel a lot tastier. And who knows, maybe you’ll invent your own version along the way—that’s the best bit, honestly.
Ingredients
- 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
- 1 medium yellow onion, chopped
- 2 garlic cloves, minced
- 3 medium carrots, sliced
- 2 celery stalks, sliced
- 8 cups chicken broth (low sodium preferred)
- 2 cups cooked chicken breast, shredded
- 1 cup small pasta (ditalini or orzo)
- 1 teaspoon dried oregano
- 1 teaspoon dried thyme
- ¼ cup fresh parsley, chopped
- Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
- Grated Parmesan cheese, for garnish (optional)
Instructions
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1Heat the olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add onion and garlic, sautéing for 3-4 minutes until softened.
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2Add the carrots and celery, and cook for another 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.
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3Pour in the chicken broth and bring to a gentle simmer. Add oregano, thyme, salt, and pepper.
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4Stir in the shredded chicken and pasta. Cook for about 10-12 minutes, or until the pasta is tender.
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5Remove from heat and stir in the fresh parsley. Taste and adjust seasoning as necessary.
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6Ladle into bowls and garnish with grated Parmesan cheese if desired. Serve hot.
Approximate Information for One Serving
Nutrition Disclaimers
Number of total servings shown is approximate. Actual number of servings will depend on your preferred portion sizes.
Nutritional values shown are general guidelines and reflect information for 1 serving using the ingredients listed, not including any optional ingredients. Actual macros may vary slightly depending on specific brands and types of ingredients used.
To determine the weight of one serving, prepare the recipe as instructed. Weigh the finished recipe, then divide the weight of the finished recipe (not including the weight of the container the food is in) by the desired number of servings. Result will be the weight of one serving.
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