There was nothing else for it: on the day before New Year’s Eve, I had to make chicken soup.
I would call it the 30th of December, but we all know that the time between Christmas and New Year (otherwise known as Betwixtmas, or The Void) doesn’t honour the day/number system. Not even a little bit! In the face of The Void, time loses all meaning, and its very concept becomes as fragile as the first frost-tipped daffodil. Or the wafer sphere inside a Ferrero Rocher, after some extremely careful nibbling.
The Void is happily baffled by the Gregorian calendar. Much as I was three Christmases ago when I received - from my immediate family - not one but TWO Dilbert wall calendars. There are five Hermans. Four, not including me. This means that HALF OF MY FAMILY went out to buy me a present, thinking, perhaps, of all my various pursuits and interests, all that I love and am, joys and foibles alike… and came back with a Dilbert wall calendar.
On the day before New Year’s Eve - deepest, cosiest Betwixtmas - I woke up with a cold.
It came as no surprise. My brother and sister both had honking colds on Christmas Day, and they’d been in charge of vegetable prep. And even then I made short work of the parsnips, knowing full well they’d been entirely sneezed on, multiple times.
So when I woke up feeling like the bottom of a shoe, I was strangely sanguine about the whole business. After all, The Void is the perfect time to get ill. It’s a five-day-long Snooze Button! A brazen-faced gift of a week that you can spend flopping around from sofa to bed, and back again, with all the alacrity of an easy-peeler that’s been dropped from a great height.
And besides, when nobody needs anything from you, there are small pleasures to be found in the trappings of a cold; its remedies and routines. I like how everyday comforts (blankets, steaming mugs of lemon and honey, improbably thick socks) suddenly take on the status of a curative elixir. Whiskey becomes positively medicinal.
After peeling myself out of bed, I announced to Ben that ‘I will commit this cold for ONE DAY, and that’s it! That’s all it gets.’ In order to make good on this astonishing hubris, I needed a plan. And that plan was going to look a lot like making chicken soup.
So I took the hottest shower our boiler could manage, tucked my sad Gollum hair into a woollen hat, Ben bundled me in so many layers I couldn’t bend my arms at the elbow-crook, and we shuffled off to the shops.
I made a list:
This list didn’t include the things I already had: olive oil, chillies, leeks, black pepper, flaky sea salt, a nub of ginger, and bay leaves.
My ma gave me a jar of dried bay leaves last Christmas, from the garden of the house I grew up in. The house had just been sold. She made the label from a photo of the tree, inked over (with thick gold pen) in her curlicue letters. It was no Dilbert calendar, sure.
The jar lives on the top shelf in my kitchen, and the leaves are reserved for Important Recipes only.
Chicken soup definitely counts as an Important Recipe.
Partly because my ma taught me how to make it. Roast chicken on Friday nights, chicken soup by Sunday. Partly because I know she makes it best, and knowing things for sure can be a comfort in itself. Partly because it’s something I like to make when it will really really help.
And chicken soup will always help. Maybe only a little. But we all know there are times when only a little is all you need.
So. To make proper chicken stock you have to start by roasting a chicken. If you already know how to do that, great! If not, better still. Because you only get to discover that it’s so much easier than you thought once in your life. And I think that’s up there with the very best discoveries a person can make.
Here’s the gist:
Before you do anything else, wash your hands. Warm water, soap. Everything feels extremely possible with freshly clean, towel-scrubbed hands.
Take your chickens out of their packaging, and place them (either way up) in a casserole dish. Let them sit there for a minute - you can use that time to pre-heat your oven (180°C), and to unpack your other bits and pieces.
Take a generous glug of olive oil, and rub it all over. Flip over and repeat. (The chickens, that is.) Big flakes of sparkly salt, 2-3 pinches’ worth: sprinkle with wild abandon. A good few twists of black pepper. Now rub the salt and pepper into the olive oily chicken. I wish I could make that sound more appealing, but it is what it is. Really go for it: legs, wings, thighs, the whole thing. Again, flip and repeat.
Cut a lemon in half. You can juice it a little if you like (now’s probably a good time for a hot toddy) or you can keep it juicy and expectant. I think either way is fine, but I know I like things pretty lemony. Peel as many cloves of garlic as you be arsed to peel. I only discovered the squish-em-with-your-spoon trick on this side of 2018 (I know, I’m a chump) so my garlic stamina has now increased TENFOLD. 2-3 sprigs of rosemary, just as they are. Take all of that, and shove it up the chickens’ bottoms. Again: I'm sorry, there’s no better way to say it.
Dish into oven. Set the timer for 1 hour 20 mins. (Though depending on the size of your chickens it could probably take 15 minutes more. I always err on the side of caution.) Once the chickens are done, slide them out of the oven and heave them onto the stove top/sideboard.
Allow a little time here for marvelling.
Set out a large bowl, and your biggest pot. I only have small-middling sized pots… so at this stage I set out four.
You have to wait a little for the chicken to cool down, but - as luck would have it - it’s EXACTLY enough time to divvy up the rest of the ingredients for the stock:
Slice the leeks into pleasing little rings. Halve another lemon. Peel some more garlic, so much more than seems civilised. Chop the chillies. (Use crushed if you can’t be arsed.) Peel your ginger with the back of a spoon, and chop it into little bits. Slice your red onions - no need to peel them. My ma calls that leaving them in their overcoats, and I usually mutter that to myself at this stage.
Now you’re done with the knife! Everything else can be torn with your own two hands!
This may be a good time to wash them again.
Crack your celery into roughly three chunks per stalk. 2-3 chunks per carrot. (Again, no need to peel.) A hefty twist of pepper. Add ‘basically any herbs that make you think of Simon and Garfunkel.’ (Yep, another Susie Herman pearl.)
Plus a bay leaf or two.
If you have one big pot, chuck everything in with wild abandon. If you’re using four pots, you have to get a little ‘Judgement of Solomon’ about it.
Tease the meat off the bones, and into the bowl it goes. The meat is for adding to tonight's soup, tomorrow’s risotto, and sandwiches the day after, possibly on rye bread with sweet, bright redcurrant jelly.
Everything else - bones, skin, all of it - into the pot(s)! And remember all the bits that you so squeamishly put up its bottom before? That is about to pay serious dividends. The lemon and garlic cloves will now be squidgy and unbelievably flavoursome. In they go. Or - my friend Kate told me that she saves some garlic to spread on toast, and she's a proper food writer and kitchen maven, so I now consider this gospel.
Cover the whole lot with water, bring to a rolling boil, then simmer for as long as you have.
A couple of hours will do it, but on New Year's Eve Eve, I left mine going for the whole afternoon and well into the evening.
Every once in a while, I'd drag myself off the sofa, pad into the increasingly fragrant-foggy kitchen, and stir (or sometimes prod) my merrily bubbling vats, topping them up now and then with a splosh more water. I usually say 'some for you, some for you!' as I pour the water in, but I don't think that's canon.
Drain the dark, steaming broth, and ladle into a bowl. (Salt, pepper, and crushed chilli to taste.) A mug is the ideal vessel if you want something warming to hold in both hands while you mull over the highlights and lowlights of your year - numerous, both.
But a mug's no good when you want to add matzo balls. Look, I'm not saying I'm above slurping a matzo ball from a mug, like some sort of hideous arcade game, but this was New Year's Eve Eve, and I had a horse-bolted desire to see out 2017 with a semblance of dignity.
Anyway, I needn't have worried, because I forgot to put matzo meal on my shopping list.
But! As luck would have it, November-me had stashed away a packet of pasta stars, seemingly for this exact moment.
Stella, be not troubled.
The stars were perfect, as pasta stars always are, and the soup was everything a chicken soup should be. It didn't get rid of my cold - that noch-shlepper lasted well into 2018 - but it did help. Just as I'd hoped it would.
The Cameo
My guest this week is Héloïse Werner.
Photo by: Nick Rutter
What’s your job title/profession?
I'm a musician / performer (soprano, cellist) and I write music every now and then. (I actually spend most of my time emailing people and writing funding applications).
What would you love for people to know about your work?
I’m very interested in music as drama and music for the stage, experimenting with different genres and techniques. I try to use my singing voice to express ideas and emotions in a very theatrical, direct and (hopefully) moving way.
What made you/helped you to choose what you do?
Oh - I don't think I ever consciously "chose" it, it just sort of happened! (Though I'm still working out *what I'm doing* so maybe I haven't actually “chosen” yet?) But music has always played an important part in my life and I’ve always known it could never be just a side thing.
What’s your perfect breakfast/lunch for a workday?
I’d say it probably involves hummus, vegetables and halloumi. (I’m French, and people here always assume that I love food and cooking – I don’t!)
What’s your perfect time to wake up? (When do you actually wake up?)
That really depends - sometimes I like waking up super early if I have lots of exciting stuff on. But I also love a good lie-in, especially when I’ve earned it. (And planned it! I actually love planning my lie-in so much, I sometimes put it in my diary!)
What’s your alarm sound?
Sadly just the old iPhone ringtone. But now you've mentioned it, I'll change it to some Bach, we all need more Bach in our lives.
Do you have a set morning routine?
Absolutely not.
Do you have a preferred writing / training space? If so, what does it look like?
Not really, though I enjoy outdoor spaces in the summer. I was practising my solo show in my garden last summer (not at full volume, just some quiet muttering and movement stuff) and it felt so good. (This probably sounds more weird than it is).
What are your must-have items when you’re travelling? What are the first things that go in your bag?
My iPod, my iPhone (+ charger because the battery is rubbish), my diary, a book and scores I need to learn but that I never end up looking at.
Do you work with fixed goals in mind or take it day by day depending on what comes up?
Both! I have fixed goals (generally short term ones, I don't like thinking too far ahead - so say 4 months max), but I also love to take it day by day and see what comes up. So much is about who you meet as well.
What’s your favourite thing about your job?
It can be so fun and social; and I’d say travelling is the best thing about my job at the moment. (In 2017: Estonia, Russia, Portugal (x2), Germany (x4!), France and Cyprus - essentially paid holidays).
Least favourite?
It can be so stressful and lonely. Also, funding applications.
What do you do to get through days when you just don’t feel like it?
I do a little dance. Then I watch Happy Potter or Fleabag or The Good Wife; or I play some Bach or Barbara.
Do you have a go-to treat to get you out of a slump?
Not really (maybe I should?)
Go-to work snack/sustenance?
The nakd bars, especially the cocoa crunchy ones. I'm also a little obsessed with frozen bananas.
What’s your favourite part of the day?
When I get into bed.
Least favourite?
Between 3-6pm .
- extremely unproductive.
How you define a good/successful day?
When I got to do a show / gig and had lots of fun doing it.
What’s been your favourite failure? One that you learnt a lot from, or one that you can look back and say ‘well I got through THAT, I’m unstoppable!’
Forgetting my laptop on press night (of my solo show) with all the show files on it and still somehow managing to do the show (starting 30 mins late). I honestly still don't know how I managed (well I know – my director Emily Burns is a genius).
What’s your top tip for the work-life-balance conundrum?
I'm probably the worst person to ask because I tend to think about "work" too much (or so people say) and I never really switch off, it's sort of an integral part of my life? So I don't know. If you have one, I'd love to hear it!
Do you have any hobbies/passions outside of work?
I love going to see plays (preferably on my own!) - I go at least once a week. I recently got into climbing and I enjoy my gym classes (oh especially the “cardio blast” ones). I also go and see lots of new music gigs, but not sure whether that counts as work or as a hobby? Same re: travelling.
If so, how do you make time for them? Where do they fit into your day/week?
I put everything in my diary! Plays often in the evenings, though I do love going to matinees when I can. Climbing I go with friends so it depends on everyone's availabilities. “Cardio Blast” always on Monday and Saturday mornings.
What’s one piece of advice you would give to someone who wants to do what you do?
If you want to do it, just do it, make it happen! It takes courage and energy and stress, but if you have things to say, then say them. DON’T GIVE UP!
What’s the best piece of advice someone’s ever given you? (Or worst!)
My mum always used to say: "petit à petit l'oiseau fait son nid" which is a French saying that translates as "a bird builds its nest little by little".
What’s your top tip for getting shit done?
Somehow you need to feel responsible for things!
Follow Héloïse on Twitter: @Heloise_Werner.
Check out her website: heloisewerner.com.
Find out more about Héloïse's work with her folk band The Coach House Company, and contemporary quartet The Hermes Experiment.
Some Music
This week's playlist is a collection of songs that have eased me into the year.
Like this:
As opposed to this:
You can listen to it on Spotify here.
A Poem
A Poem for Someone Who is Juggling Her Life
by Rose Cook.
This is a poem for someone
who is juggling her life.
Be still sometimes.
Be still sometimes.It needs repeating
over and over
to catch her attention
over and over,
as someone who is juggling her life
finds it difficult to hear.Be still sometimes.
Be still sometimes.
Let it all fall sometimes.
from Notes From a Bright Field (Cultured Llama, 2013)
Links!
Do you find yourself in need some mid-January inspiration? Look no further: How Jeff Goldblum spends every second of every day. Every word of this interview is pure, unadulterated joy.
Even his approach to ear-hair removal is a revelation:
You need to dig a little bit, and it will reveal itself, like a crocus, coming up in spring. That feeling of excavating is just marvellous.
“I’m really not consumerist,” he says, “I don’t need anything grand. Often I’ll go into a store, have a look around and proclaim, ‘Everything in this store validates the decisions I have already made,’ and leave.”
'In 2018, I will be the sort of person who...' No! Stop it. (This is me talking to myself.) Read this instead: There Are Two Kinds of People in This World, Really.
For anyone who resolved to start learning the piano or (as in my case) just playing more, this lesson with Oscar Peterson is a pretty sweet place to start, inspiration-wise.
As someone who delightedly subscribes to every newsletter I come across (good ones, that is) this article about how to cope with email overload had me nod nod nodding along.
Yes, 2016 was jinxed by karmic voodoo, but I never thought I'd live to see it.
This piece by Ian Martin came out over a year ago now, but I've come back to it so many times since then.
Everything I Wish I'd Known Before Starting Therapy. This might be really helpful - or even just a tiny bit helpful - if this year's the year.
And identifying our feelings is always a Good Thing to do. Or at least to attempt: 10 Feelings You May Not Have Heard Of...but Have Probably Felt.
What Is "The Satisfaction Factor" & Why Does It Matter So Much
Intuitive Eating is a trend I can really get on board with. And I'm not just saying that because today I had coffee and cookies for breakfast, and chicken soup with extra veggies for lunch.when my appetite wakes up demanding eggs and toast, I make a point of listening. Would you like jam with that? I’ll ask. We have raspberry and sour cherry this morning. Just butter? Very good.
An excellent collection of funny tweets about healthy eating. Last night I found myself saying 'They'll just go to waste otherwise!' in reference to the 'remaining' Ferrero Rocher. It was a full, sealed tin. I had to use scissors to open it.
I believe this to be the greatest video of all time.
It's an evergreen video, certainly, but I think it takes on a near-medicinal quality in January, when life feels like a near-constant Greggs bag in the face. And he's not wrong, you know: It DOES take quite a long time to make change, even with the best will in the world!
Let's do our very best, and be gentle with ourselves in the meantime.
Love, Katya
If you'd like to know the story of that magnificent sign (and my motto for 2018), then this is the place. It comes right at the end, but I suspect you might love the whole thing. That link will take you to The Dry Down, a newsletter about perfume by Helena Fitzgerald and Rachel Syme. It's always a joy, and their writing makes me happy to be writing myself. To be doing my very best, even when it takes a long time.
The Katch-Up's header illustration is by the brilliant Tamsin Baker.