Brodo di Pollo all'Italiana

Before there is risotto, there is brodo. Before there are tortellini swimming in golden liquid on Christmas morning, there is brodo. Before the braised meat, the soup, the sauce that needs body, there is this: a pot, a chicken, a few vegetables, and time.

I do not understand cooks who buy broth in boxes. They are paying for salted water with chicken flavoring. Real brodo has body. When it cools, it should set like gelatin. This comes from the bones, from the collagen that only patient simmering can extract. You cannot rush it. You cannot cheat it. The chicken gives what it will give, and it takes three hours to give it.

The vegetables here are what Italians call odori, the aromatics that perfume the broth without overwhelming it. Carrot for sweetness. Celery for depth. Onion for backbone. The parsley stems go in because they have more flavor than the leaves, which turn bitter when cooked too long. What you keep out matters: no garlic, no tomato, no strong herbs. This broth should taste of chicken first, last, and always.