A full course of Italian penicillin

Italian families have called a bowl of pastina in broth penicillin for generations, and I have simply taken the joke to its conclusion. Consider me your farmacista. No needle, no prescription and not one milligram of anything medicinal, just the most comforting thing a person can eat with a spoon, dispensed with chicken for dinner rather than a sickbed. Take one bowl as needed and call me in the morning.

1. Crumbs first, so the skillet is done with. Melt the butter with the olive oil in a small skillet over medium. Add the Calabrian chilis and let them sizzle 30 seconds, until the oil runs red. Tip in the panko and toast, stirring, 3 to 4 minutes, until golden. Off the heat, stir in half the lemon zest and a pinch of salt, and tip them into a bowl. They keep in a jar for a day should you want a head start.
2. Stir the yogurt with the grated garlic, the rest of the zest, the juice of half a lemon and a pinch of salt. Into the fridge. It goes on cold, and the garlic stays raw and sharp here, where in the crumb pan it would have burned before the panko had even started.
3. Put the stock, chicken, carrots, celery, onion, garlic cloves, ginger, turmeric, Parmesan rind and bay leaf in a medium pot. Tie the thyme and rosemary into a bundle with kitchen string and drop it in. Add a good pinch of salt, bring to a boil, then turn down to a bare simmer with the lid ajar. The rind softens but never melts, and it gives the broth the slow savory backbone you would otherwise get from hours of bones.
4. Lift the chicken out once it reaches 165°F, 14 to 18 minutes, and pull it into shreds. Keep the vegetables simmering until they are very soft, about 25 minutes in all.
5. Fish out the rind, the herb bundle and the bay leaf. Every rosemary needle comes out with the bundle, which is the point of tying it: blitzed into the soup they stay gritty and taste of pine. Blend the pot smooth with a stick blender. Stir the chicken back in, taste for salt and keep it warm on low.
6. Ladle 1½ cups of that blended broth into a little pan and bring it to a simmer. Add the pastina and keep stirring, 6 to 8 minutes, until tender and thick like a loose risotto. Splash in more broth if it tightens before the stars are done.
7. Take the pan off the heat. Stir in the butter and the Parmesan, then beat in the yolks one at a time, fast. The pan's own heat turns them to silk; on the flame they would scramble.
8. Spoon the pastina into the middle of two warm bowls and ladle the broth and chicken around it. Crumbs over the top, a fat dollop of the yogurt, more Parmesan and a huge squeeze of lemon over the lot. The remaining wedges go on the table for anyone who wants more, and someone always does.

Leftovers keep, but keep them apart: pastina in one container, broth in another, crumbs in their jar. Warm the broth, stir the pastina through it with a splash of water and it comes back beautifully.