The weather here has shown an uncharacteristic propensity for white this winter. While she often indulges in her love for the sparkly white of frosts, she usually only dons the honest-to-God white stuff every four or five years. This season, which isn’t over yet, she has waltzed out in the swirly white dress no less than twice.

While I fully intended to make the trek to the farm, it seems that pregnant scooter-riding farmers get a snow day. With the unexpected day off, my thoughts turned to good snow day activities.  I was having trouble staying warm… it seems Hemingway is taking all my body heat too. So, instead of going all the way outside, we did our snow activities from the window. While Mr. Quotidian held the window open, I leaned out and made our snow avatars. A tall snowman in Mr. Quotidian’s likeness was easy enough, but I had trouble with the pregnant snowife. So, as a compromise, I fashioned a little Hemingway snowman separately.

Nothing could be more of a soup day than a snow day, so I turned my attention towards dinner. For me, soup must include two things if it’s to be classified as a snow day soup. It must be based on real broth that has been simmering all day, and it must not require any ingredients other than what’s already in my fridge, freezer, or pantry. (Extra points for being able to use leftovers.) The requirements, though they might seem random, actually have some reason behind them. The on-hand ingredients stipulation is for the obvious reason that on a snow day you either can’t or don’t want to make the journey to the grocery store. The broth specification has to do with the anticipation factor. Snow days typically involve long stints under blankets  punctuated by brief stints of outdoor frivolity. When I’m home all day, there’s something about slowly becoming aware of the aroma of stock simmering on the stove, attending it throughout the day, and then enjoying the rewards at the end of the day. That pleasure is compounded when my hands are cold from snow and they slowly thaw as I stir the stock, leaning next to a warm stove. Obviously these aren’t real conditions and don’t absolutely have to be followed to have a successful soup. For me, they are just what distinguishes a Snow Day Soup from any other run of the mill soup.

I just happened to have a leftover whole chicken and some rice from last week that was practically begging to be made into soup. In the morning, I picked all the meat from the bones and set the stock to simmer. Later that evening, I sauteed some onions and garlic and stole a few ladle-fuls of the stock, leaving the rest to simmer overnight. I also added a bit of leftover whey to up the protein content (pregnant you know). Because I had time to spare, I added what I consider one of the secret weapons of a good soup: a Parmesan rind. These take awhile to melt in, but can’t be outdone in the savoriness  and body they add to soup. When the rind was melted, I added the cooked rice and shredded chicken. Then, at the last minute to preserve its color, I added a couple spoonfuls of homemade pesto. Perfect. Even though I hadn’t been out playing in the snow all day, this soup bore the same sense of comfort and well-being that a hot meal did after my childhood snow days. With this soup, the weather can wear white all she likes.

In the most recent Slow Kitchen meeting, we did a blind tasting between stock from a box and homemade stock. Homemade stock had a “spicier” aroma and “more flavors” than the “bland” and “thin” stock from a box. Homemade stock is rich experience all around, from the deep golden color to the unctuous complex flavor. Can you guess which is which?

Besides being a tasty base for soups, sauces, and gravies, stock is full of vitamins, minerals, and other healthy things like gelatin. Many others have written about the health benefits of a well prepared stock, including Sally Fallon, the author of Nourishing Traditions: The Cookbook that Challenges Politically Correct Nutrition and the Diet Dictocrats, so I won’t rewrite the wheel. Let’s just say there’s a reason chicken stock was called the “Jewish penicillin.”

I wanted to make stock for long time before I had the courage to do it. All the recipes I read sounded so intimidating. For one thing, they are always very long.  And full of terms that not only was I unfamiliar with but seemed a little indecent for a respectable cookbook. All a recipe had to do was mention the word “carcass” and I was lost. What is a carcass? Is it the same as a whole chicken? Should there be any meat left on it? Does it matter what size?  At that point in my culinary self-education, I was still very tied to recipes, so I was never sure when the recipe called for 3 to 8 pounds of chicken parts if the 2 1/2 pounds I had would still work. And honestly, does anyone actually know what “scum” is anyway? I never could seem to find a straight answer to that one. All of that, coupled with a fierce desire to become something of a domestic goddess, meant that I approached my first stock pot with the trepidation of a girl on her wedding night. That something wonderful was supposed to happen, I knew. But exactly how, well, I had no earthly idea.

Some time has passed since then. Like an old married woman, I now discuss the squimish topics of carcasses and scum with nary a blush. However, I realize there are still those stock virgins out there who need someone wise in the ways of stock making to frankly talk them through what’s going to happen.

What follows is my everyday recipe for chicken stock. Please don’t be intimidated by the length. I’ve tried to be as clear and detailed as I can. Making stock is as simple or as complicated as you want it to be. In the recipe, I give you both the “proper” technique and then what I actually do. At it’s most basic, think of it as similar to brewing tea. Tea leaves are placed in boiling water that, through the process of diffusion, extracts the goodness (flavor, aroma, caffeine, ect) trapped inside the leaves. To make stock, simply replace the tea leaves with chicken bones. So don’t be scared. It’ll all be okay. And at the end of it, you’ll have made something beautiful, perfect, and worth more than gold in kitchen currency.

(If you would like to make beef stock, put all your bones in a roasting pan and roast in an 350° oven until they are uniformly browned, about 90 minutes, stirring occasionaly. Then proceed with step one.  Roasting the bones first sets in motion the Maillard reaction which produces deeper, more complex, umami flavors.)

1. Put a chicken in a stock pot. The chicken can be a whole raw chicken, a whole carcass left over from a roast , or bones you’ve saved from other meals like fried chicken. Also, if you happen to have chicken feet, necks, gizzards, ect, throw those in too. They add more flavor and nutrition to your stock. The feet are special because they have a high gelatin content, which means there will be more gelatin in your stock. Once you get used to having quality stock around, you’ll probably intentionally buy these things. When I make a roast chicken, I’ll generally save the carcass in the freezer until I’m ready to make stock.
2. Add a few tbs of vinegar. This helps extract the minerals, like calcium, from the bones. Then add water to cover the bones by several inches.
3. Let sit for 30 minutes
4. Bring water to a boil and skim off any foam that rises. Scum is . . .  impurities. That’s the best I’ve been able to figure out. If you’d like, you can be a perfectionist about it and stand over your stock for 45 minutes skimming off every little bit of scum as it rises. Or, you can be lazy like me and wait till your pot looks like a dirty bubble bath, skim that off and call it good. You will want to skim at least the majority of the scum off as it can give your finished stock an off flavor. If you are using a whole chicken, you will have more scum than if you are just using a carcass.
5. Add any veggies you want- I keep my vegetable scraps (carrot and onion tops, ect) in a bag in the freezer and add those plus an onion cut in half, maybe some celery, and another carrot broken in half. Please don’t spend time chopping them. It’s a waste of time. The only reasons to nicely chop vegetables are for aesthetics and even cooking times. These vegetables are going to be strained out at the end, so no one will see them but you. And the stock simmers for so long that everything will be thoroughly cooked, believe me. So put your knife away and just throw those celery sticks in the pot.
6. Bring stock back to almost a boil and reduce heat to a bare simmer.
7. If you are using a whole chicken, remove it after about an hour and remove the meat. Then put the carcass (bones, skin, everything else) back in the pot. You can then use the meat for chicken salads, chicken soup, enchiladas, tacos, ect. Removing it now, instead of at the end, keeps it from getting overcooked and rubbery.
8. Simmer, covered, for at least 8 hours. 12 is better. 24 is sublime. It takes time to extract everything from the bones. While some recipes say its fine to simmer for only 3-5 hours, I think the resulting stock is not worth the effort. There are chefs that keep barrels of stock simmering for up to two weeks, so don’t be afraid of overcooking your stock. Do keep an eye on it, and stir occasionally. Add more water if it drops below the level of the bones. You can consider your stock done when the water is a deep golden color and you can crush a leg bone between your fingers. If you’re nervous about leaving the stove on over night, turn the burner off about an hour before you go to bed to let the stock cool. Then, right before bed, put it in the fridge. Then just start it again the next morning. If you have a large enough crock pot, you could also pour the stock into that once you’ve brought it to a simmer on the stove. I’ve also put my stock pot in a 200° oven and let it simmer away in there, leaving my stove top free for other cooking.
9. When you’re done simmering,  turn off the heat and dunk in a bunch of fresh parsley. The residual heat will be enough to extract the flavor from the parsley, but still leave a fresh flavor. Let the stock cool a little. Then use a large slotted spoon and strain out the big pieces of vegetable and bone. Then use a colander to strain the rest of the solids out. If you want a really clear stock (with no celery leaves or such), strain it again through a colander lined with cheese cloth or a tea towel (NOT terry cloth). I rarely do this. The little bits of leaves that remain in the stock don’t bother me. Store your stock in the fridge overnight. A good stock will gel solid, like Jello. Mine doesn’t always gel though. I don’t know why it’s not consistent. I’m experimenting with techniques, and when I get some conclusive evidence, I’ll let you know. For now, don’t worry. Your stock will still taste great and be nutritious even if it doesn’t gel solid.
10. Take the stock out and skim off the solidified fat. This step is actually optional. Some people think it’s gross, but the fat is part of what contributes the rich flavor to stock. However, you don’t want it to be greasy. So normally, I’ll skim off most of it but not worry about the little shards that break off. I keep the skimmed fat in a jar in my fridge. You can use it to cook with or feed it to your cats. Just remember that it’s not as “pure” of a fat as butter, meaning there’s little bits of vegetable floating in it. Therefore, it won’t last as long as other fats. I’ve actually had it mold on me. So, use it within a couple of days.
11. Now, you have several options for storage. You can use it right away for soup or some such thing. Or, you can store it in the fridge for about a week. (If you are going to do this, it’s best to not skim the fat, as this forms a barrier that will stop bacteria from getting in.) If you choose to refrigerate your stock, make sure you bring it back to a good rolling boil before using it, to kill anything that might be growing in there. Or, you can freeze it. If you have ample freezer space, store it however you store other liquids (tupperware, plastic bags, mason jars…) If you have limited space (like me), then you can put the skimmed stock back in the pot and reduce it to whatever volume you desire. You can reduce  a whole batch of stock to fit in an ice cube tray and store it that way. I usually reduce it by about half.
12. The last step is yours to decide. Spend your liquid gold in whatever way you choose. Make a delicious soup, a gravy for your mashed potatoes, or a sauce to put over your carrots. You can cook your rice or beans in it. Or even just drink a mug of it. Sound excessive? Believe me, it won’t once you’ve made your own stock. You’ll want to.

This is a chicken foot. Yes, it looks like a foot. Get over it. It is also your secret weapon of stock making, producing a a rich golden stock full of gelatin.

More chicken feet. Can you tell I’m trying to desensitize you so you won’t be afraid to go buy them?

This is what your stock should look like after a few hours. Pale chicken parts and flaccid celery not quite your style? Don’t worry. The liquid is what you’re after. It will turn a deep golden color before it’s done. Can you believe most recipes have you stop here?

This is what your bones should look like when you’re done. Full of little holes, like those pictures of osteoporosis patients’ bones. All of the things that make bones strong have been leached out into your stock. Even major bones, like this leg bone, should crumble easily between your fingers.

]]> http://collectedquotidian.com/2010/03/29/liquid-gold/feed/ 3 http://collectedquotidian.com/2009/12/15/holiday-roast-turkey-or-chicken-and-gravy/ http://collectedquotidian.com/2009/12/15/holiday-roast-turkey-or-chicken-and-gravy/#comments Wed, 16 Dec 2009 03:48:57 +0000 Jana@ Collected Quotidian http://collectedquotidian.com/?p=269 For the fowl:
1 bird of your choice
1-3 oranges, limes, lemons, ect
1 stick of butter, divided
2 tbs of dried herbs (we used rosemary)
1-2 cloves of garlic
1 tbs oil
salt

For the gravy:
all the drippings from the bird
1/4-1/2 cup wine or vinegar
2-8 cups stock
1/2 cup water
1-2 tbs flour, cornstarch, or arrowroot powder
1-2 tbs herbs
salt
pepper

Preheat your oven to 400°. Melt butter and let cool slightly. Thoroughly thaw your bird and remove any giblets from the cavity. Either store the giblets in the fridge for later use or boil them in a pot of water for an hour to use in the gravy. Pat the bird dry with paper towels or a clean dish cloth. Place it on the rack of you roasting pan or use carrots and celery to build a rack in the bottom of your biggest baking pan, ideally one that can go on the stovetop as well. A big pot would work too, if you don’t have a burner safe pan.

Roll the oranges gently on the counter to release their juices.  Cut them in half and place them in the cavity. Don’t stuff them too compactly though, or it will affect the cooking time of the bird.

In an small bowl or mortar grind the herbs. Add minced garlic, a pinch of salt, and a drizzle of oil. Gently loosen the bird’s skin with your fingers.  Try not to tear it. Using your fingertips, rub the herb and garlic mixture under the skin as evenly as possible. Reserve any extra for the gravy. Skin is a barrier Then massage the bird all over with the melted butter. You can use your hands for this or a pastry brush. I prefer my hands for more even coverage. If you are using unsalted butter, you might want to sprinkle a little salt over the skin too.

When the bird is thoroughly greased, spread him out like he’s sunbathing; pull the wings and legs out from the body. This will give you crispy skin all over. If you have one, insert a probe thermometer into the deepest part of the breast, making sure to not hit any bones, which would give an inaccurate temperature. Set the alarm to go off at 160°.  Put the bird in the oven and immediately reduce the heat to 350°. High heat at the beginning helps the fat essentially fry the skin as it renders. But having high heat for too long will leave the skin burnt and the meat raw.

When the breast has reached 160°, test the thigh meat on the opposite side.  Remove the bird from the oven and place it on a pan or cookie sheet to rest.  Use your roasting rack to keep the bottom from getting soggy. The resting period is essential. Do not skip it! Straight from the oven, all the yummy meat juices are loose. They would run out if you cut it, leaving you with dry meat.  During the resting period, the meat reabsorbs the juices and leaves you with beautiful succulent meat.  A turkey needs to rest at least 30 minutes, a chicken at least 10 minutes.  If you are worried it will get too cold, loosely tent a piece of foil over it.

While the bird is resting, make the gravy.  If you want to see the proper method to make gravy, go look it up on your favorite cooking site, because I cheat and don’t skim the fat off first. Straddle your pan over two burner and turn them on high.  When things start to sizzle, which shouldn’t be too long, deglaze the pan by pour in the wine/vinegar. Using a wooden spoon, scrape up all the little brown bits. Not only are they not burned, they are incredibly flavorful caramelized juices from the meat.  Believe me, you want them in your gravy! Once you have them all scraped up, add your stock. This is where you get the volume in the gravy.  So, if you have a big crowd, at a lot of stock.  If it’s just a few people, add less. A good guideline might be 3/4 to 1 cup per person, to allow for evaporation (and leftovers).

Next, mix your starch (flour, cornstarch, arrowroot powder) into about 1/4 cup of water.  This mixture is referred to as a slurry. Adding the starch this way prevents it from turning lumpy in your gravy. Add the slurry to the gravy and mix thoroughly. Some starches take awhile to take effect, so let it simmer for a good 5 minutes before adding more. When your gravy is thickened to your liking, add a couple pinches of salt, a grind or two of fresh pepper, and any herbs (like the extra from the spice rub). Simmer for another minute to let the flavors meld.  The key to good gravy is to taste early and often.  Get used to how the flavors develop. Then remove to a gravy boat or other serving vessel (I use a cream pitcher).  You can stick it in the oven to keep warm.

Now back to the bird. After it has rested, it’s time to carve.  This takes practice! Don’t expect to do it at the table until you are more proficient at carving.  The first several times you do it, expect it to be a hacked up job.  Just focus on learning where the joints are and the overall process.  Since a picture is worth a thousand words (and a video even more), here is a link to a video explaining how to carve a chicken.

If the worst should happen:
If you carve your bird and it is not cooked in the middle, do not panic.  Simply finish carving the bird and put the pieces on an oven safe plate, cover in foil, and place it back in the oven until it’s done.  You might end up with slightly drier meat, but that’s okay, because you have awesome gravy.