You probably want to add a good deal of black pepper to this, at least. Also, we ended up adding a great deal of salt, too, but we make our own stock (with no salt), so you probably don't need to add salt if you used canned stock, or something.
I might also add that I had a cold chicken sandwich with the above soup, which is maybe one of the tastiest things I know how to make: cold roasted chicken, black pepper, and fresh mayo on white (in this case, French) bread. It's really, really, good.
On the first day, I met Coby by the road. He had a post-hole digger. It was a little dusty, and early in the evening. A cloud of crows wheeled out of the trees and settled into the fields. The earth was wet with spring. He was sitting on a stump, looking out over the field. He was leaning on the post hole digger. I asked him what he was doing, and he told me, "diggin' holes."On the second day I was walking by Coby's place and a post was shored up in the hole by the stump. I looked through the trees down the drive. I saw Coby, moving a post up and into a hole a little ways up. The sky was clear and blue, the deep blue before evening. I waved, and he yelled back. "Two more to go." He sounded quiet.
On the third day, it rained a lashing rain. I didn't see Coby at all.
On the fourth day, I met him on the stump again, and he was staring off into the fields again. "Hey," he said. "I finished 'em." And he showed me his signs.
"Dear Stranger,
There are devils here."The first sign was small, poorly lit in the shade of the trees over the road in its spot by the stump. He nodded to me, and we started to walk down the drive toward his place.
"Live here the devils do."
The second sign was a little smaller. Coby had made them himself, careful with the paint. A thin straight border was carved around the edge.
"And if you come to court them,"
The third sign was bigger, easier to see. I could start reading it when it was still small in the distance down the drive.
"Then they will live for you."
The fourth sign was on a post, too. It seemed a little silly; it would have been easier to hang on the front porch. But Coby had put it on a post.
He grinned at me, toothy. "I like the rhythm," he said.