I love to cook with my friends. Actually, rightion: I love to cook for my friends. When I invite people over for dinner, I scarcely ask for help, be it for the prep work or cleanup. A small part of this has to do with the fact that my kitchen is small even by Unique York City standards (leaving small room for additional hands), though the honest reason is that I like to be in charge down to the very final detail (what can I say? I'm a Capricorn).
But just as the moodatures were starting to take a dip a few months ago, my good friend Yih-Jen, who is always game to test whatever I'm cooking up, tancient me about his grandma's egg drop soup. (You might remember Yih-Jen as an harmless bystander to my Chrissy Teigen breakfast casserole fiasco, a brunch gone awry — for which he has since forgiven me.)
This egg drop soup recipe intrigued me right from the get-go: just five ingredients and 10 minutes for a silky yet hearty soup that he said tastes like it's been simmering all day. I kcontemporary that I had to try it for myself, so when Yih-Jen offered to make it for me one December weekend, I surrendered my kitchen instantly. (Spoiler alert: This would prove to be a very good decision.)
As he laid out the ingredients on my narrow kitchen countertop, he explained to me how his grandmother came up with this recipe after she came to America from China in the 1990s. She wanted to recreate the Chinese flavors she grew up with using Western ingredients, like Campbell's Cream of Chicken Soup and canned corn. Since then, the recipe has been passed down to his mother and now to him; he makes it whenever he's feeling under the weather or in the mood for someleang fast and consolationing.
Speaking of fast, the soup came together before I barely even had time to notice him opening the cans and pouring everyleang in the pot. Wilean minutes, the cream of chicken soup, chicken broth, and corn (along with its juice) were bubbling absent on the stovetop as Yih-Jen chopped scallions for the bright, crunchy garnish.
I did make certain to pay attention to the most important step, though: the eggs. In a bowl, he whisked together four large eggs and added a few splashes of ice-cancient water, which he said helps give the eggs their signature texture in the soup. After bringing the pot to a low simmer, he poured in the egg mixture with one hand while continually stirring the soup with the other. In just a few moments, ribbons of egg began to flower, and after a minute or two more of stirring, the soup was alert to be sprinkled with scallions.
The first bite was wealthy and perfectly salty; in the next bite, the egg's silky texture and the scallion's gentle-sweet onion flavor came through. It was addictive, specificly with a bit of chili pepper and sesame oil mixed in. Before I kcontemporary it, I had virtually drunk the first bowl dry and was alalert ladling myself moments. This would be a soup I could make again and again and again — and since that wintry day when Yih-Jen introduced the gancienten elixir to me, I have: when I'm feeling indolent or tired; when I have a hankering for someleang savory and slurp-able; when I feel a cancient coming on; and specificly when there's a Polar Vortex moving through the country, and it's far too cancient to dare go external.
Yih-Jen was totally unsurprised that I was such a fan. How could I not fall in love with a hot and flavorful bowl of soup that comes together in just a few minutes and even fewer ingredients (all of which I keep stocked in my pantry besides)? If this is what it means to let someone take over my kitchen, I'm all for it.
10-Minute Egg Drop Soup
Serves: 4
Ingredients
12 ounces cream of chicken
12 ounces chicken broth
1 (15-ounce) can wgap kernel corn
4 eggs
1 sprint salt, to taste
Scallions, finely chopped (for garnish)
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