Pressure-Cooker Spring-Thyme Chicken Stew

The winter of "not yet." The weeks between David's visit and Passover are weeks of intensive, almost violent domesticity. I cook as if I am storing food for a famine, which in a way I am: the famine of Marvin's absence, which is coming, which I have agreed to, which I am not ready for but will never be ready for, because readiness is a concept that does not apply to the loss of your husband's daily presence.

I made every dish in the Ashkenazi canon this winter. Brisket every week. Challah twice a week. Chicken soup three times a week. Kugel — noodle and potato. Cholent. Stuffed cabbage. Kreplach. Mandelbrot. Rugelach. I made foods I haven't made in years: schmaltz, rendered chicken fat, the golden liquid that was the cooking oil of the shtetl and that Sylvia kept in a jar on the counter the way other women kept olive oil. I rendered schmaltz and spread it on bread and ate it standing at the counter and tasted my childhood, tasted the Grand Concourse, tasted Sylvia's kitchen, tasted the thing I am trying to preserve: not the food but the world the food came from, the world that is being lost, one memory at a time, in the recliner in the next room.

Marvin has stopped speaking in full sentences. He speaks in words: "good," "more," "Ruthie" (he still says my name, he still says my name, he still says my name). The words are enough. The words are evidence. Each word is a proof that the man is still in there, behind the disease, behind the silence, in the room behind the locked door. He knocks sometimes. The words are the knocks.

Hanukkah was quiet. I lit the menorah alone. Marvin sat in his recliner and watched the candles. Sophie, six, came on the fourth night and lit the candles with me, and Marvin watched Sophie and smiled, and the smile was the smile of a man who recognizes light and youth and beauty, even if he cannot name the child who holds the flame.

I wrote about schmaltz on the blog — about the food of poverty, about how the poorest cooking fat of the Ashkenazi world is also the richest in flavor, about how the women who rendered chicken fat in shtetl kitchens were alchemists who turned scarcity into gold. The post was about schmaltz. The post was about everything. The post was about a woman standing at a stove in the last winter her husband will be in the house, rendering fat into gold, turning scarcity into something that nourishes. The alchemy of love. The gold of the kitchen. The fat that feeds.

Chicken soup three times a week was my anchor that winter — but there were evenings when I needed it faster than the hours-long simmer could give me, when I needed the smell of it in the kitchen now, before the loneliness settled too deep. This pressure-cooker chicken stew became my shortcut to the same warmth: bone-in thighs giving everything they have in a fraction of the time, broth pulling root vegetables and thyme into something that tastes, if not like Sylvia’s kitchen, then like a house where someone still cooks with love. It is the soup you make when you cannot wait for comfort to arrive on its own schedule.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs (about 4 thighs)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 medium carrots, cut into 1/2-inch rounds
3 stalks celery, sliced 1/2-inch thick
2 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
2 1/2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1 teaspoon dried thyme)
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 cup frozen peas
2 tablespoons cornstarch
2 tablespoons cold water
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped, for serving

Instructions

Brown the chicken. Set the pressure cooker to the sauté function (or use a separate skillet over medium-high heat). Add the olive oil and heat until shimmering. Season the chicken thighs on both sides with salt and pepper. Working in batches if needed, brown the chicken skin-side down for 3 to 4 minutes until golden. Flip and brown the other side for 2 minutes. Transfer to a plate and set aside. Do not discard the fat in the pot.
Sauté the aromatics. In the same pot, add the onion and celery. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 3 minutes until the onion begins to soften. Add the garlic and thyme and cook for 1 minute more, until fragrant.
Build the stew. Add the carrots and potatoes to the pot. Nestle the browned chicken thighs on top, skin-side up. Pour the chicken broth over everything, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot.
Pressure cook. Secure the lid and set the valve to sealing. Cook on high pressure for 15 minutes. When the cycle completes, allow a natural pressure release for 5 minutes, then carefully switch the valve to venting to release any remaining pressure.
Shred and thicken. Remove the chicken thighs. When cool enough to handle, remove and discard the skin and bones. Shred or chop the meat into bite-sized pieces. In a small bowl, whisk together the cornstarch and cold water. Set the pressure cooker to sauté again and stir in the cornstarch slurry. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes, stirring, until the broth thickens slightly.
Finish and serve. Stir in the frozen peas and shredded chicken. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes until the peas are heated through. Taste and adjust seasoning. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pressure-Cooker Spring-Thyme Chicken Stew — The Soup That Holds Everything Together