Chicken Soup, Again?

When left alone, I cook (or shop.) As it was a day at home without any playmates, what else was there to do? Reading, crosswords, television, exercise, those are not for me. I had read a recipe and an entry about homemade noodles, and somehow they called out to me. The recipe suggested and even depicted the kneading of the noodles with one’s feet. It seemed like a perfect way to harness Belle’s infinite energy and would help me avoid the hard labor of hand-kneading. But, in the end, neither of us enjoyed the kneading process. Apparently for her walking is about getting somewhere (preferably somewhere where there is trouble to be had.) For me, I didn’t like my feet being so close to something I was planning to consume later. I guess I would feel the same about foot-stomped wine too.
I didn’t follow the recipe exactly. The noodles didn’t rest for 3 hours (just 1.5). And, I used whole wheat and all purpose flour instead of bread flour. But, the result was good—substantial and smooth with a nice bite. They held up to the rich stock of the soup. (The roasted carcass of yesterday's chicken had become a brown stock. ) I topped off the whole soup with garlic-sautéed bok choy and sauteed shitake mushrooms. I will definitely do it again, with the homemade noodles and the toppings, but only when my husband is well to hand-knead the suckers. (I should probably start subtly mentioning how strong he looks right away.)

Will there be chicken soup tomorrow? I doubt it. Everyone is feeling well enough to protest. But, as we still have chicken stock and meat, expect at least one more chicken meal.