Name: Italian Penicillin Soup with Chicken
Prep time: 20 min
Cook time: 40 min
Total time: 1 h
Yield: 4 servings
Cuisine: Italian
Ingredients: 2 tablespoons olive oil; 1 medium onion, diced; 2 carrots, sliced; 2 celery stalks, sliced; 3 garlic cloves, minced; 1 pound boneless, skinless chicken thighs; 6 cups low-sodium chicken broth; 1 cup ditalini pasta; 1 teaspoon dried oregano; ½ teaspoon dried thyme; ¼ cup chopped fresh parsley; Salt and black pepper to taste; Freshly grated Parmesan cheese, for serving

Sit Down, Let Me Tell You About This Soup

Alright, so here's the deal: I first made this Italian Penicillin Soup with Chicken on one of those damp, chilly days where your socks won't dry and you just want your house to smell like a hug. Honestly, I'd been feeling run down (I think I caught a chill from leaving the window open overnight, which was a rookie move on my part), and my nonna used to swear by soup as the answer to everything. Now, this isn't her exact recipe, because, well, she guarded that like it was the crown jewels, but I've cobbled together something that gives me that same cozy feeling. Plus, it's got a bit of a kick and some Italian flair—probably more than my nonna would've added, come to think of it. If you like chicken soup that tastes like it could knock a cold on its head, pour yourself a mug and let's get into it.

Why You'll Love This Soup (Or: Why I Keep Making It)

I make this soup when the weather turns, or honestly, whenever someone's coming down with something (or claims to be, just to skip chores). My family goes nuts for it because it's hearty, has those comforting Italian herbs, and, if I'm being honest, it's a sneaky way for me to use up leftover chicken. Sometimes I throw in extra garlic, like, probably too much, but hey, it keeps things interesting and maybe the vampires away? Oh, and if you hate chopping onions as much as I do, I'll show you a trick for that later. I used to dread making soup from scratch—seemed like such a faff—but this one's easy enough that I don't feel like I've run a marathon after.

What You'll Need—But Don't Stress If You Swap Stuff

2 tablespoons olive oil (I sometimes use butter if I’m feeling decadent)
1 large onion, diced (yellow, white, red—whatever’s lurking in the pantry)
3-4 garlic cloves, minced (or more; no judgment)
2 large carrots, chopped (parsnips work in a pinch, though my kids grumble)
2 celery stalks, chopped (skip if you hate celery—it’s fine, I won't tell anyone)
1 lb cooked chicken, shredded (rotisserie chicken saves heaps of time; sometimes I use leftover roast—works a treat)
6 cups chicken broth (homemade is lovely, but boxed is absolutely fine—my grandmother always insisted on homemade, but honestly, any version works)
1 cup small pasta (ditalini is classic, but I use broken spaghetti sometimes—don’t @ me)
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon dried thyme
½ teaspoon crushed red pepper (optional, but I like a bit of heat)
A handful of fresh parsley, chopped (or dried, if that’s what you’ve got)
Zest from half a lemon (gives it a zing—if you forget, it still tastes good)
Salt and black pepper, to taste

So, How Do We Actually Make This?

Grab your biggest pot. Pour in the olive oil and heat it over medium. Chuck in the onions and let them get soft—should take about 5 minutes. This is where I usually check my phone or stir my tea. If the onions start to brown too fast, just dial the heat back.
Add garlic, carrots, and celery. Stir it all around for another 4-5 minutes. (Don't worry if it looks a bit weird at this stage—it always does. The garlic smell is fantastic though.)
Time for the chicken and broth. Toss in your shredded chicken; pour in the broth. Give it a stir, scraping up any bits stuck to the pot (those are the good bits). Bring it up to a gentle boil.
Season it up. Add oregano, thyme, crushed red pepper, a good pinch of salt, and some black pepper. I like to taste at this point—just a little—because, well, why not?
Pasta goes in. Stir in your small pasta and let it cook right in the soup. If it absorbs too much liquid, splash in a bit more broth or water (I always forget this and then end up with a stew, which is, actually, quite nice too).
Finishing touches. Once the pasta’s done, add the parsley and lemon zest. Taste and adjust seasoning. Give it a minute for the flavors to get friendly.
Spoon into bowls. Serve hot, with extra parsley or a grating of Parmesan if you’re feeling fancy. (Sometimes I add a squeeze of lemon right before eating—totally recommend.)

Notes—Bits I’ve Learned the Hard Way

The pasta keeps slurping up broth as it sits. I actually like it a bit thicker on the second day (if anything’s left), but you can always add more broth if you prefer it soupier.
If you forget the lemon zest, don’t stress—it’s not a deal-breaker. I’ve made it both ways and nobody’s ever complained.
Grating the garlic is so much faster than mincing, but only if you have a good grater. I once tried with a microplane that was, let’s say, past its prime, and it just made a mess.

Variations I’ve Tried (Some More Successful Than Others)

I swapped chicken for turkey after Thanksgiving—pretty tasty, actually!
Added spinach at the end for a green boost. Kids didn’t love it, but I thought it looked nice.
Tried with rice instead of pasta. Results? Meh. The rice got kind of mushy, and I missed that al dente bite.

What You’ll Need—But Seriously, Don’t Buy Fancy Stuff

Large soup pot (if you don’t have one, any deep saucepan will do—just keep an eye on the liquid level)
Sharp knife
Wooden spoon (or literally any spoon that won’t melt—don’t ask me how I know)

Keeping Leftovers (If You Even Have Them)

This soup keeps in the fridge for up to 3 days, though honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day! The pasta will keep soaking up broth, so you might want to add a splash of water or some extra stock when reheating. Freezes ok, but the pasta does get a bit soft—on second thought, I’d just eat it fresh if you can.

How I Love to Serve It (You Do You)

I love a big steaming bowl with a chunk of crusty bread and a sprinkle of Parmesan. My cousin dunks grilled cheese into hers, which is, honestly, not a bad move. Sometimes we sit around the table and argue about who gets the last ladleful—family traditions, right?

Things I Learned the Hard Way (AKA Pro Tips)

Don’t skimp on simmering time for the veggies; I once tried to speed things up and ended up with crunchy carrots. Not great.
Add the pasta after the soup comes to a boil, not before—otherwise it goes gooey. Trust me, I’ve ruined a few batches that way.
Taste as you go. I got lazy once and oversalted it at the end; it was...memorable, but not in a good way.

Questions People Actually Ask Me

Can I make this vegetarian? Sure thing! Just skip the chicken, use veggie broth, maybe toss in a can of chickpeas. I’ve done it—tastes different, but still hits the spot.
What’s the best pasta for this? Ditalini is classic, but I use broken spaghetti or even orzo. Don't worry too much about it.
Do I have to use fresh herbs? Nope! Dried works fine—maybe just go a bit lighter since dried herbs can be pokier in flavor.
Can I double the recipe? You bet. Just make sure your pot’s big enough (rookie mistake: I once had broth all over the stovetop...)
Where do you get your chicken broth? I usually keep some low-sodium boxed stuff handy, but sometimes I make it myself and freeze it. If you want a good homemade broth recipe, check out Smitten Kitchen’s classic. Or for a fancier twist, here’s one from Bon Appétit.

And here’s a random aside: did you know that in some parts of Italy, they put tiny meatballs in their penicillin soup? I haven’t tried that yet, but it’s on my list for when I’m feeling ambitious. (Let me know if you do it first!)

So that’s my not-so-fancy, definitely cozy Italian Penicillin Soup with Chicken. Hope it pops up in your kitchen next time you need a little edible comfort. Let me know how it goes, or if you’ve got any tweaks—always up for a kitchen chat.

Italian Penicillin Soup with Chicken