Where the whole bird finally ends. Built on the stock from the page before it, and finished in half an hour.
Schmaltz from the top of the stock if you have it, butter if not. Onion, carrot and celery over a low heat for ten minutes until soft and translucent but not coloured. This is a clear soup; browning would change what it is.
Pour the stock in, add the bay leaf, bring to a gentle simmer and add the rice. Fifteen minutes until the grains are soft and have begun to release a little starch, which thickens the broth very slightly.
The meat is already cooked. It needs two minutes to warm through and nothing more — any longer and shredded chicken goes woolly. Bay leaf out.
This is the point in the whole chain where salt finally appears. The stock was made deliberately without it so that this soup could be seasoned properly rather than corrected.
Taste, salt, taste again. It will need more than you expect because there has been none until now.
A squeeze of lemon lifts the whole thing out of flatness. Parsley last so it stays green.
Whisk the yolks with the lemon juice. Add a ladle of hot broth to the bowl in a thin stream while whisking hard, then a second, then stir the whole lot back into the pot with the heat off.
It must not boil after this or the yolks will scramble. The soup becomes opaque, silky and considerably richer, and it is a different dish.
Cook the rice separately and add it to each bowl. Rice left in the soup keeps absorbing overnight and by morning you will have a thick porridge — pleasant enough, but not what you made.
The soup itself keeps three days in the fridge and freezes well without the rice in it.