(Pictured above)
Curry laksa, deeply savoury, shrimpy and coconut-milky, is perhaps the most well-known version in the laksa multiverse. To make it at home requires vigilance, dedication and a clear diary – you’ll need to start it a day ahead to allow the spice paste and soup to develop its flavour. Also required: many pots, many colanders. Persevere with making your own ginger-spiked chicken stock (store-bought will not give the satisfaction or the flavour). And when shopping for ingredients in Australia, Vietnamese coriander (found at south-east Asian grocers) is sometimes sold as Vietnamese mint, laksa leaf, phak phai or rau răm; and if you can’t find the Chaokoh brand of coconut milk, I like Ayam. Godspeed.
Every family has one: the person who, at the end of dinner, claims the carcass of the Sunday roast chicken for their own (it is usually the middle sibling). Why do they do this? For soups like this. Felicity Cloake calls for a kilogram of drumsticks and wings, but throwing in a leftover roast chook frame will literally form the backbone of this soup. During the cooking process, the devil is in the detail: don’t skimp on the scum-skimming, make sure the leek is well-washed and free of grit, and strain the soup through a fine sieve – I like to line mine with a damp cheesecloth for an ultra-clear broth. Barley adds a welcome earthiness; chubby dumplings are an excellent optional extra.
Like the length of time you should spend in a bath, Slater says not to let this soup cook for more than 40 minutes: “Nothing good will come of it.” For midweek cooking, this recipe leans on ingredients that deliver big flavour: free-range brown-meat chicken (thighs and drumsticks, not breast), mushrooms, spring onions, plus a splash of sesame oil. With egg noodles and a leafy green vegetables, it’s an all-in-one wonder.
Mexico’s pozole is the jumping-off point for Ottolenghi’s spiced chicken number, though he concedes he “deviated from the original quite a bit”, seeing as his recipe leaves out hominy (a type of dried corn) and pig’s ears. What it does include, however, culminates in a soup that is bright with green tomatoes and lime, has the complexity of spiced, buttered charred corn and is texturally rich, with pumpkin seeds, avocado and red radish. Oh yes, there’s chicken too.
If it’s chicken soup you want but chicken you do not possess, this is the soup for you. To capture the depth of flavour of chook meat, you’ll need to slowly sweat some winter root vegetables: onion and leek, celery and carrot, three bulbs of fennel. The crisp-fried soy-sauce tofu is a delightful savoury touch – just make sure you use firm tofu (often vacuum-packed in large blocks) so it doesn’t break up in the pan. As is often the case, a squeeze of lemon is the magic touch.
In the case of avgolemono, lemon is vital. The thick Greek chicken soup combines beaten eggs – the “avgo” – with the bright, zesty notes of lemon. In Cloake’s recipe you can make your stock from scratch or use store-bought. Plus there are ingredients to add or omit according to your taste: tomato (for a subtle sweetness), fresh thyme (a close ally to chicken), dill (for a grassy, verdant finish) and a plump clove of garlic (controversial opinion: only sociopaths will omit this).
Finally, a recipe for one! Lawson says she often cooks this on a Sunday night, but it’s so deceptively simple, I consider it a strong bachelor-girl meal contender for Monday to Friday for dinner, lunch and even breakfast. The ingredients list doesn’t specify the type of noodle, though I think dried rice vermicelli or fresh egg noodles could work well here (follow the packet directions for cooking). And as for Asian greens, gai lan, bok choy and wombok are worthy stand-ins for choy sum.
Tomato pasta, but make it soup. This recipe by Ottolenghi combines the best of a long, saucy pasta dish with the warm, slurpable goodness of chicken soup, with parmesan rind for a boost of umami. It calls for fresh plum tomatoes but seeing as it’s winter, I think three-quarters of a tin of quality romas could do the trick. The recipe finishes with some words we should all live by: “Top with … a sprinkling of grated parmesan, and serve with extra parmesan.”
