That was the beginning of a ritual that lasted through both my pregnancies, through the bleary postpartum weeks, through cold winters when the kids brought home every sniffle from daycare. Every few weeks I would pick up a rotisserie chicken, strip the meat, and toss the bones into my biggest pot with whatever vegetables were languishing in the crisper. The next day I’d turn that golden, jiggly broth into the most comforting chicken noodle soup, studded with carrots, peas, celery, and tender homemade egg noodles that my toddler helps me roll out now. If you have ever wondered whether making bone broth from scratch is worth the effort, let me tell you: it absolutely is. And it is so much easier than you think.
The Quiet Magic of Simmering Bones
Pregnancy has a way of making you hyper-aware of what you put into your body. For me, that awareness didn’t come from a place of fear, it came from a deep desire to give my baby the best possible building blocks. Bone broth is one of those foods that sounds almost too simple to be powerful, but it genuinely is. When you simmer chicken bones with a splash of vinegar (or, as I do, with a little white wine in other recipes), you pull out collagen, gelatin, minerals like calcium and magnesium, and amino acids that support everything from joint health to digestion. During pregnancy, your body is literally building a skeleton, so that extra calcium and collagen feels like a direct deposit into the baby fund.
Beyond the nutrition, there’s a mental comfort to making bone broth. In a season when so much is out of your control, how you’ll feel tomorrow, how the birth will go, whether you’ll ever sleep again, standing at the stove and skimming foam off a pot of simmering bones is a small act of order. It’s productive but undemanding. The pot doesn’t need constant stirring. You can sit down, put your feet up, and let time do the work. I came to love those afternoons, the kitchen warm and steamy, a book in one hand and the other resting on my bump.
Why Rotisserie Chicken Is My Shortcut Hero
If you’ve ever roasted a whole chicken just to make broth, you know it’s a project. I did it once while 34 weeks pregnant and decided the reward was not worth the back pain. Then I discovered the rotisserie chicken shortcut. You buy a fully cooked, seasoned bird from the grocery store, pull off all the meat, and use the carcass, bones, skin, and all those drippings, as the base for your broth. The skin adds incredible flavor and a deep golden color, and because the chicken was already roasted with seasoning, your broth starts with layers of flavor built right in. I also love that I can stretch one chicken into multiple meals: the breast meat goes into the soup, the dark meat gets tucked into wraps or salads, and the bones give me a pot of liquid gold.
This method makes the broth achievable on a weekday. Strip the chicken when you get home from the store, toss the bones in a pot with water, a halved onion, some carrots, celery tops, peppercorns, and bay leaves, and let it simmer gently while you go about your evening. By the time you’re ready for bed, your kitchen smells like someone’s grandmother lives there, and the broth is ready to strain and chill overnight. In the morning, the fat will have risen to the top and solidified, making it easy to scoop off if you want a lighter broth. I usually leave a bit of it in because fat carries flavor and, during pregnancy and breastfeeding, those extra calories are welcome.
Homemade Egg Noodles: Easier Than You Think, Softer Than Anything From a Bag
I know that adding “homemade noodles” to a recipe can make it sound intimidating. But I promise, these egg noodles are among the simplest doughs I make. Flour, salt, an egg, and a tiny bit of water come together in a bowl, get kneaded for a minute, then rest while the soup simmers. There’s no yeast, no rise time, no pasta machine. Once rested, you roll the dough out thin on a floured counter, cut it into rustic strips and squares with a knife or pizza cutter, and drop the noodles directly into the bubbling soup. They cook in five minutes and taste like little floury pillows. My toddler now asks to help roll the dough, which means the kitchen gets dusted in a fine layer of flour and the noodles come out delightfully uneven. It’s one of those tiny kitchen pleasures I didn’t know I needed.
If you’re in a season where even that feels like too much, and I have been there, especially with a newborn, you can absolutely use store-bought egg noodles, or even broken spaghetti. The soup will still be wonderful. But if you have a quiet afternoon and want to feel like a domestic goddess, give the homemade noodles a try. They freeze well, too, so you can make a double batch and save some for next time.
How the Soup Comes Together (With Minimal Hovering)
Once the broth is made and strained, the actual soup takes less than thirty minutes. You bring the broth back to a gentle boil, add chopped carrots, celery, and a generous handful of peas, frozen peas work perfectly, and let them soften. Then in goes the shredded chicken, a little bouillon for depth, and simple seasonings: garlic powder, black pepper, parsley. Nothing complicated. The broth already carries so much flavor from the roasted bones and the long simmer that it needs very little help.
When the vegetables are tender, drop in the fresh noodles and watch them cook. They’ll float to the surface and puff slightly. Ladle the soup into deep bowls, maybe with a slice of buttered toast on the side, and eat it while it’s hot. I have eaten this soup standing up, one-handed, with a baby in the wrap. I have eaten it cold from a mug while pacing the hallway at 2 a.m. during cluster feeding. I have fed it to my feverish toddler and my skeptical husband, both of whom asked for seconds. It is the definition of a food that meets you where you are.
Little Tweaks That Make It Your Own
Over the years, I’ve played with this recipe based on whatever was in my fridge or whatever my pregnancy cravings demanded. Sometimes I add a parsnip or a turnip along with the carrots for a slightly sweeter broth. A handful of chopped spinach stirred in at the very end wilts down and adds iron. When I was dealing with first-trimester nausea, I kept the seasonings extremely simple, just salt, pepper, and a bay leaf, and the bland, salty broth was one of the few things I could stomach. Later in pregnancy, when I wanted more punch, I’d add a clove of minced garlic and a pinch of red pepper flakes.
If you’re vegetarian, you can make a version of this with vegetable stock and skip the chicken entirely, adding chickpeas or cubed tofu for protein. The homemade noodles and the vegetables will carry the soup just fine. And if you’re a mama who’s just brought a baby home and someone offers to bring you food, send them this recipe. It freezes beautifully, reheats in minutes, and tastes like someone loves you, because they do.
Freezer Tips for the Postpartum Stash
I cannot overstate how valuable it is to have containers of this soup in the freezer before you give birth. Make a double batch of broth and soup during a nesting weekend. Portion it into quart containers or freezer bags, leaving a little room for expansion, and stack them flat in the freezer. When you’re too tired to boil water, you can pull out a container, thaw it in the fridge overnight or gently on the stove, and have a hot, nourishing meal in fifteen minutes. If you’ve added noodles, they will soften a bit upon reheating, but the soup will still be delicious. You can also freeze the broth without noodles and add fresh noodles or cooked pasta when you reheat.
An Unfussy Guide to Making the Broth Ahead
If the idea of a four-hour simmer feels daunting, remember that most of that time is completely passive. You can start the broth after dinner, let it simmer while you watch a show or fold laundry, and strain it before bed. Or use a slow cooker: dump the bones and vegetables in, cover with water, and let it go on low for 14 to 16 hours. You’ll wake up to a kitchen that smells incredible and broth that’s ready to finish. I’ve done it both ways, and both yield a rich, gelatinous broth that sets up like jelly in the fridge.
Once you have the broth, you can use it for so much more than this soup. It’s the base for rice, for braising vegetables, for sipping from a mug when you’re under the weather. One rotisserie chicken can fuel a week of meals if you’re strategic, and that feels like a superpower when you’re trying to feed yourself well on limited energy.
Ready to make a pot of this soup for yourself or someone you love? The full recipe card, with exact measurements, step-by-step instructions, and all my notes for the stovetop and slow cooker methods, is right below this post. Go grab a rotisserie chicken and let’s get simmering.
