
Chef Thomas
A Proper Chicken Broth
Sunday's roast chicken, simmered slowly on Monday with carrots, celery, leeks, and thyme into a bowl of clear, golden broth that smells like the kitchen is paying attention.
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Smoked haddock poached in milk, potatoes crushed into the broth, cream stirred through at the end. A bowl of Scottish coastal cooking that smells like woodsmoke and winter and the kind of evening you stay in for.
January. Rain on the windows since morning and the light never quite arriving. This is the weather for Cullen Skink. Not a soup you make in summer, not a soup that makes any sense when the evenings are long and warm. It belongs to the dark months, to kitchens with the heating on and coats still damp by the door.
The town of Cullen sits on the Moray coast, and this soup is its quiet gift to the rest of us. Smoked haddock, potatoes, milk. Three ingredients doing all the work, the smoke from the fish seeping into the milk as it poaches, the potatoes collapsing to give the broth its body. It smells like a harbour kitchen. Like salt air and woodsmoke and butter in a pan.
I don't make it often, which is probably why I look forward to it. The first bowl of the winter goes in the notebook every year. The note is always the same: smoky, rich, right. There are few better feelings than putting a warm plate in front of someone on a cold night, and this is the bowl I reach for when the weather asks for it.
A recipe is a conversation, not a contract. The proportions here are a starting point. More cream if you like it richer, more potato if you want it thicker, a little less milk if you prefer something closer to a stew. Your kitchen, your rules. We're only making dinner.
Quantity
400g
skin on
Quantity
500ml
Quantity
1
Quantity
30g
Quantity
1 medium
finely chopped
Quantity
400g
peeled and cut into rough 2cm pieces
Quantity
100ml
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
small handful
roughly chopped
Quantity
a squeeze
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| undyed smoked haddock filletskin on | 400g |
| whole milk | 500ml |
| bay leaf | 1 |
| unsalted butter | 30g |
| onionfinely chopped | 1 medium |
| floury potatoespeeled and cut into rough 2cm pieces | 400g |
| double cream | 100ml |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| white pepper | to taste |
| flat-leaf parsleyroughly chopped | small handful |
| lemon juice | a squeeze |
Lay the haddock in a wide pan, skin side down, and pour over the milk. Drop in the bay leaf. Set it over a medium heat and bring the milk to a gentle simmer. Not a boil. You'll see the surface start to tremble and the kitchen will fill with something smoky and warm and faintly sweet. Let the fish poach for four or five minutes until it flakes easily when you press it with a fork. Lift it out onto a plate and set it aside. Keep the milk. Every drop of it. That milk is now the backbone of the whole soup.
Wipe out the pan and melt the butter over a low heat. Add the onion and a small pinch of salt. Let it cook gently, stirring now and then, for about eight minutes until it's soft and translucent and has lost all its sharpness. No colour. You're building a quiet base here, not a roasted one.
Add the potatoes to the onion and stir them through the butter. Pour in the reserved poaching milk and add enough water to just cover everything, perhaps another 200ml or so. Bring to a simmer and cook for fifteen to twenty minutes until the potatoes are completely tender and starting to break apart at the edges. This is what you want. Floury potatoes that collapse slightly will thicken the soup naturally, giving it that characteristic body without needing flour or anything else to hold it together.
Remove the bay leaf. Now, roughly crush about half the potatoes against the side of the pan with the back of a wooden spoon. Not all of them. You want some pieces to remain whole so the soup has substance, something to find with your spoon. The crushed ones will dissolve into the liquid and thicken it into something between a broth and a chowder. That's the texture you're after.
While the soup is still on the heat, flake the haddock into large, generous pieces, discarding the skin and checking for bones with your fingertips. Fold the fish into the soup gently. You don't want it to disintegrate. Stir in the cream and warm everything through for a minute or two. Season with white pepper and a squeeze of lemon juice. Taste it. The lemon does something quiet but important, cutting through the richness and making the smoke sing a little louder. Add salt carefully, the fish brings its own. Ladle into warm bowls and scatter the parsley over the top. Serve with bread that can stand up to being torn and dipped.
1 serving (about 350g)
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