Soup Zine

Happy Soup Time! Our first Soup Zine is full of great artwork, writing, and recipes. Thank you to everyone who submitted.

Soup Zine submissions compilation.

Editing by Bee Possidente

Music by Zachary Barkery-Frey

Recipes

Creamy Chicken & Rice Soup

From: Lisa Abler

  • Butter

  • Chopped carrots

  • Chopped onions (white)

  • Chopped celery

  • 64 ounces chicken broth

  • 1 box Uncle Ben’s Original wild rice (orange box)

  • 2 8 ounce packages cream cheese cut into pieces (Philadelphia Cream Cheese works best)

  • 2 Large Chicken Breasts (3 for a double batch) - cut into bite sized pieces

  • 1 15.5 ounce can French Cut Green Beans

  1. Sauté carrots, onions, and celery in butter until softened.

  2. Add in chicken broth and bring to a boil.

  3. Add Uncle Ben’s rice along with flavor packet. Cook for 15 minutes.

  4. Add cream cheese.

  5. Once cream cheese is melted, add cut up chicken.

  6. Add green beans. Cook for about 8 minutes or until chicken is cooked.

The reason I add the chicken at the end is because if you add it in early (as I used to do), it gets overcooked. When the chicken is cut up into (nickel sized) pieces, it cooks quickly.

Serve with a side of sourdough bread and butter.


Black-eyed pea soup, stew, whatever.

From: Joel DeWyer

  1. Soak about 2 cups of dried, black-eyed peas overnight in a large pot with water.  Truthfully, I sorta, kinda just eyeball how much to use, but two cups sounds right ;-)

  2. Drain and rinse the next morning and then dump into a minimum 3.5 quart slow-cooker

  3. Cut one green zucchini into small chunks.  I usually slice it into ½ inch disks and then half or quarter them. Add to slow cooker.

  4. Add one chopped yellow onion 

  5. Add one 28 oz can of diced tomatoes

  6. Add one 8 oz. package of sliced, baby bella mushrooms (the brown ones – wink)

  7. Add water to slow cooker to cover ingredients (keeping in mind that the veggies will release some water during cooking)

    1. I totally eyeball this too.  Just add enough water to cover everything in the pot.  You can always add or takeaway liquid later

  8. Season with (Use the force and/or trust your judgment):

    1. Salt & Pepper

    2. Garlic Powder

    3. Old Bay

    4. A tablespoon (or two) of brown sugar

    5. I typically add about 1/3 cup of hot sauce too

    6. You can add a sprig or two of thyme, rosemary, or bay leaves if you’re feeling saucy and adventurous.

  9. Stir and mix ingredients well.

  10. Set slow-cooker to low or simmer and cook that sucker for 6-8 hours

  11. Optional:

    1. Sometimes I’ll add stew meat chunks, or cooked, pulled, pork, or pulled turkey or chicken.

    2. Sometimes, I substitute part of the water with a chicken or beef broth/stock.  It’s a good way to use up leftover stock from other recipes

  12. Here’s a link to the YouTube video where you can watch the prep (starts at 9:18):


Recipes to Keep You Warm in Winter Months

by: Anonymous


I ask too many questions. I know.

Did I chop the chicken breasts right?

and What do you need for the broth?

and How did you know we wouldn’t work? 

and Do you still love me?

Can you tell me you love me?


You don’t always have an answer.

Or, it’s not the one I expected, maybe not the one I wanted to hear.

But sometimes you ask things in return.

Can you dice the onions?

Will you stir this for a couple minutes? 

or, simpler,

Are you okay?

I wasn’t sure that things would ever 

be the same again. But we’re finding our way back.

I used to daydream about us waking up in bed together,

heated by each others’ skin,

ambling half-dressed into the kitchen to make pancakes.


Now I know that can’t happen. But 

you still cook for me. And

when I reach past you to open the cupboard, 

you don’t shy away.

I still like the way we move in sync,

even just while we’re cooking. 


When I accidentally brush against you, it doesn’t feel like 

being singed by a burner anymore, 

now just a low hum of tolerable warmth.

And maybe I’ll never hear “I want to be with you” 

in the way I’d hoped for it.


But: You’re here with me. You stay with me.

You make me soup when I’m sick, and you trust me enough 

to let me prep the ingredients. 

Even when I don’t know how.

And when we sit down across from one another

at the table, steaming bowls turning both our faces red,

your presence still steadies me, and I think

This is warm enough for me.