Boba's Chicken Soup

Growing up, my mum spent each Friday night with her grandparents, watching Boba prepare the Sabbath meal, which included a large vat of soup. Maybe that week it would be vegetable soup or her signature borscht, but nothing beat the labour of love that was Boba’s chicken soup.
Like the majority of Ashkenazi Jewish cooking, my Boba’s chicken soup involved exclusively boiling the ingredients, and a lack of seasonings. The salty rich flavour was all the soup needed, and in the nature of its simple ingredients, could be assembled the same way during whatever walk of life you might find yourself in. What some might consider a struggle food from the simplicity or cheap ingredients, Boba’s chicken soup was home.
In the early hours of Friday morning, Boba would dump a whole chicken carcass in the steaming water, along with any vegetables she had; carrots, celery, onion, parsnip, you name it; leaving it to boil on the stove throughout the day, until a deep rich golden colour appeared and the mouth watering smell filled her home.
That evening was spent sitting at the dining room table set with the nice table cloth, fancy china, regular utensils and good glassware. After sickly sweet grape juice or Manischewitz red wine and freshly baked challah, the steaming thin golden liquid filled the stomachs around the table, bringing a quiet, sleepy happiness.

As the years passed and my mother grew up and moved away from home, Boba’s chicken soup would come back to tie my parents together. When my parents were barely acquaintances, only knowing each other from the small number of Jews on campus, my mum found herself bent over the stove in my dad’s cramped bachelor apartment when he was sick in bed. Assembling the simple ingredients for the soup, as Boba had for the Sabbath meal countless times before.
Maybe, without Boba’s chicken soup, my Friday afternoons walking in from school would be void of the greeting wafts of rich chicken smell, and the subtle sound of a rolling boil, accompanying the rush of my mum preparing to welcome the Sabbath. Maybe, without Boba’s chicken soup, I wouldn’t be here today, my parents never becoming close, or familiar with each other at all. Maybe, without realising it, Boba’s chicken soup was the wrinkle in time that brought my family to life.

My Mum c. 1975 in my Great-Grandparents dining room for Friday night dinner.

The Recipe

Ingredients:
7 packs of chicken bones
1 pack of chicken necks
Water
6 carrots
1 parsnip
5 celery stalks
1 large onion peeled (or 2 medium sized onions)
Salt to taste

Instructions:

Take the biggest pot you have and dump in the packs of chicken bones and necks.
Carry the pot to the sink, and fill it with water until the bones are completely covered.
Bring the water to a boil at medium high heat.
Once you notice foam coming to the surface in groups, take a metal spoon and carefully remove the foam from the surface (this will ensure a nice clear soup).
After the foam is removed to the best of your abilities, wash and peel your vegetables.
Add the veggies to the pot, and try to get them as submerged in the soup as possible.
Turn the stove's temperature down to just below medium heat.
Let the pot lightly bubble for three to fours hours, checking on it every once and awhile to be sure that it doesn’t boil over (feel free to adjust the temperature accordingly).
While you wait, watch one or two cheesy rom coms, preferably one from the eighties to early 2000s, trust me, it's worth it.
Once boiled, you can eat it immediately or hold yourself back, and refrigerate overnight.
If you refrigerated the soup overnight, skim the fat from the surface with a spoon.
Then discard the vegetables, and remove the chicken.
You can now separate the bones from the chicken meat and save the chicken meat for later, it can be used to fill kreplach (Eastern European dumplings).
Serve hot on its own or with matzo balls, kreplach or lochshen (egg noodles)
If you wish to add salt, it's best to let each person add it to their bowls individually, as everyone has different preferences.