The beauty of Lemon Chicken Penicillin Soup is that it’s versatile, so you can add or subtract ingredients to suit your taste preferences or use what you have on hand.
The beauty of Lemon Chicken Penicillin Soup is that it’s versatile, so you can add or subtract ingredients to suit your taste preferences or use what you have on hand.
It’s May — not exactly the time of year when you expect to find yourself craving soup. The rhododendrons are bursting into color, the sun lingers longer in the sky, and most of us have mentally moved on to grilled chicken and fish on the patio. But sometimes, life has other plans.
Everyone in our house came down with a nasty cold this week — the kind that knocks you sideways, no matter what the calendar says. It was surprising, even a little insulting, to be laid up by a virus when the peonies were just about to open. Springtime is busy enough, especially when you have a high school senior whose days are packed with final games, awards ceremonies, prom and college prep. This was not the time to get sick.
Yet there we were, sniffling on the sofa, a near-empty tissue box between us, trying to keep up with it all. Somewhere in the middle of that blur, my social media feed began to serve me post after post about “Italian Penicillin†— a rich, comforting chicken soup that promised to be exactly what the doctor ordered.
Traditional Italian Penicillin is simple: a clear broth filled with tender chicken, carrots, and celery, often with a handful of tiny pasta, like pastina. I needed to create my own version quickly using ingredients I already had. With a cold running rampant through the house and a packed schedule, there was no time for shopping trips or complicated recipes.
As everything simmered together — the tender vegetables, the softening pasta, the chicken pulled into bite-sized shreds — the broth transformed, taking on the sweetness of the vegetables and the umami depth of the Parmesan.
What made this soup truly special, though, were two springtime additions: a generous handful of fresh dill and the juice of a whole lemon, stirred in off the heat. The dill added a grassy brightness, and the lemon sharpened the broth, making it taste not just nourishing but alive — lifting the soup from merely comforting to genuinely restorative, like May sunshine after a long winter.
We ate bowl after bowl, the pot emptying faster than I could have predicted. It did exactly what I hoped: it made us feel human again. Maybe not perfectly well, but comforted, nourished, and ready to rejoin spring.
So even though it’s May — even though your garden may be blooming and your sandals may be out of storage — tuck this recipe away. When you need a little care and comfort, or simply crave a meal that feels like a warm hug, this bright, lemony chicken soup will be here for you. No special shopping trip required.
