Basics: Roasted Rich and Robust Chicken Stock

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One of the things that has been missing from this blog from the very start are posts dedicated to the basics:  stocks and broths, salad dressings, sweet and savory sauces, gravies, the "how tos".  Sure, some of those things are embedded within a post about soups or stews, crab cakes, dinner salads, and desserts, but very few are the stars of their own page. So one of my goals this year is to remedy that omission.

Herewith is my first Basics:  A hearty, rich and robust chicken stock made by roasting chicken bones along with aromatics to a rich, golden, caramelized goodness, pan deglazed, then onto the stovetop to cook into a stock.  After that the reduction begins.  What you have at the end of the process is a deeply flavored dark stock to enhance soups, stews, braises, risottos, rice and pastas, sauces, or whatever floats your culinary boat.

I began this stock with the carcass (skin and cartilage included) from a previously roasted 5-pound chicken, but you can use backs and wings purchased from your butcher and begin the roasting with this recipe - no need to pre-roast.  I do suggest that you always save and freeze the bones, wingtips, etc from any bird that you cook so you always have some on hand to make a stock. 

The aromatics (onion, carrot, celery, garlic, spices) all get roasted at the same time with the chicken bones.

A touch of salt, a drizzle of olive oil and into the oven it all goes at 375-degrees for about an hour.  I tented the pan with foil for the first 25 minutes then let it go naked for the remainder of roasting time.

Instead of deglazing the roasting pan with wine at the end of the cooking time (which is what I normally do), about two-thirds of the way through I removed the pan from the oven, quartered a very ripe Meyer lemon (thanks Bill!) and drizzled the juice over the pan contents, scraping up the browned bits from the bottom with a spatula, dropping the spent lemon parts into the pan, and continued roasting until it was all done to a golden perfection.

Bones, veggies, lemon pieces, spices, browned bits and all went into a large stockpot along with bruised fresh bay leaves, sprigs of fresh thyme, a small hot red Padrón pepper from a plant that is struggling mightily in my greenhouse, some sea salt and 12 cups of fresh, cool water (preferrably non-chlorinated).

After simmering for an hour, the yield was 11 cups of delicious stock.  And really, you could stop right there and start making soup, but I wanted my stock to be richer, more concentrated and de-fatted, so I strained it through 2 layers of cheesecloth and put it in the fridge overnight to cool, allowing the fat to congeal on the surface.  The next day it was easy to skim the fat from the surface of each container.

Again using 2 layers of cheesecloth and a fine mesh strainer, I strained the stock back into a stockpot, brought it to just under a boil, lowered the heat to a simmer and let it reduce down to 6 cups - about 40 minutes total.  The flavors were fantastic, the stock the deep, rich brown that you see in the top photo.  Four cups of it are freezing in ice cube trays as I type this, the remaining 2 cups are in the freezer to be used as a soup base later in the week.  I think you're gonna like this.

Christine's Roasted Rich and Robust Chicken Stock

(Print recipe)

Ingredients:

Carcass of one 5-pound or two 2 1/2-pound chickens, cut into pieces, preferrably previously roasted

1 large sweet yellow or cippolini onion, peeled and coarsely chopped

3 large carrots, peeled and coarsely chopped

4 stalks celery, coarsely chopped

10 or so cloves garlic, peeled and left whole

1/2 teaspoon each whole black peppercorns and whole allspice berries

1 Meyer lemon, washed, quartered, seeds removed

2 fresh bay leaves, bruised

4 long sprigs fresh thyme

1 small hot pepper, stem removed, jalapeno will do, I used Pimiento de Padrón, from my greenhouse

1 teaspoon fine kosher salt or sea salt

2 teaspoons olive oil, about

12 cups cool, fresh water

Preparation:

Preheat the oven to 375-degrees

Place the chicken parts, onions, carrots, celery, garlic cloves, peppercorns and allspice berries in a large roasting pan and drizzle with the olive oil.  Shake the pan to distribute the oil.

Tent the pan loosely with foil and put in the oven for 20-30 minutes.

Remove the foil and drizzle the pan contents with the juice of the Meyer lemon, dropping the lemon pieces into the pan.  Scrape the pan with a spatula to loosen the browned bits from the bottom and return pan to the oven for another 30 minutes or until the bones and vegetables are golden brown. Be sure to not let the garlic cloves burn. That would be a bad thing.

Scrape the contents of the roasting pan into a large stockpot and cover with 12 cups water.

Add the bay leaves, thyme sprigs, hot pepper and the salt and give it a stir.

Bring to just under a boil over medium-high heat.  If scum rises to the top, use a skimmer or fine mesh sieve to remove it then reduce the heat to a simmer and allow the stock to cook this way for 1 hour.  Check the heat periodically to maintain a simmer, not a boil.

Remove the stockpot from the heat and allow the stock to cool for 30 minutes.

Remove as much of the solids as you can with a slotted spoon then pour the stock through 2 layers of cheesecloth in a large sieve into glass containers.

Place the containers in the refrigerator for 8-10 hours or overnight so the fat can rise to the top and congeal.

Remove the stock from the fridge and skim any hard fat from the surface (your doggies and kitties will be waiting for this part; there's nothing like a little chicken fat to liven up a dish of kibble).

Using 2 layers of cheesecloth and a fine mesh strainer, strain the stock into a large stockpot over medium-high heat and bring to just under a boil.

Lower the heat to a simmer and reduce the stock to about 6 cups; about 30 minutes simmer time.

Allow the reduced stock to cool then strain it again, for the last time, through 2 layers of cheesecloth and a fine mesh strainer.  I know all that straining may seem like a lot, but I think you will be happier with a stock that doesn't end up with grit at the bottom.

When the stock has cooled, you can pour it into ice cube trays, freeze them hard then remove them from the trays into freezer-proof ziptop bags, label and date the bags, and put in the freezer.  Or, you can pour the stock into freezer-type storage containers in any volume you prefer and freeze.

The stock will keep well in the freezer for up to 6 months but, honestly, once you taste this you'll want to use it up sooner.  And that's good because you can always make more.

 Enjoy!

Copyright © 2005-2011, Christine Cooks. All rights reserved

Pomegranates and Walnuts, Oh My!

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Delivered to my door from the fabulous Sacramento Valley backyard of my bestest friend in the world, Erika. With a little help from her friend Bill, I'll bet.

My heartfelt thanks to you both!

Recipes to follow.....

Copyright © 2005-2009, Christine Cooks. All rights reserved

Christine's Recipe for Thai-Style Sausage and Vegetable Soup

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Inspiration for this what can I do with all those vegetables lounging in the vegetable crispers? soup came from the Thai-spiced sausage I picked up at the market recently. After that the soup practically made itself.

Cilantro grows year-round in my garden, even when it snows. Just when the summer crop is winding down, little volunteers start coming up and, hardy souls that they are, manage to make it through the winter.

I didn't get a photo, but one of our local inland farmers has a kaffir lime tree and is now selling fresh-picked leaves at the farmers market. I couldn't resist buying a packet.

Add to these beginnings, some garlic, fresh ginger, lots of fresh farmers market vegetables and some lite coconut milk and there you have it. A soup full of zingy fresh flavor, bright colors, and wholesome goodness.

Christine's Thai-Style Sausage and Vegetable Soup
Ingredients:
3 large cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
1 large shallot, peeled and finely chopped
2-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped
2 Kaffir lime leaves
1 and 1/2 cups low to no-sodium chicken stock, preferrably home made
2 cans organic, lite coconut milk
12-15 crimini mushrooms, wiped clean and thinly sliced
1 large red jalapeno pepper, seeds and veins removed, finely minced
4 Thai Style uncured sausage by Niman Ranch, thinly sliced
2 red bell peppers or sweet Italian peppers, chopped small
2 carrots, pared and thinly sliced
2 small golden zucchini (from my garden!), thinly sliced
2 cups fresh green beans, cut into 2-inch pieces
handful of fresh garden pea pods, cut into 2-inch pieces
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh cilantro
juice from 2 small limes


Preparation:
Prepare all ingredients as specified above.
Place the chicken stock in a large pot over low heat, waiting to receive the fixins.
Sauté the sausage slices in a large, heavy skillet (I use cast iron) until lightly browned. Using tongs, transfer the sausage to the soup pot. Reserve the rendered fat in the skillet.
Sauté the shallots, garlic and ginger in the skillet over medium heat until soft and golden. Transfer to the soup pot and increase the heat to medium high. You are finished with the skillet now and all your attention should be on the soup pot.
Allow the stock to come to just under a boil and add the carrots, zucchini, mushrooms and peppers. Let these cook for about 6 minutes or until they are softly cooked.
Add the green beans and pea pods and cook for 5 minutes more.
Check to see that the vegetables are almost cooked through.
Lower the heat to medium low and add the coconut milk. Simmer until everything is done to your liking. Don't allow the soup to boil.
To finish the soup, remove the lime leaves if you can find them, add the lime juice and chopped cilantro.
Stir gently, remove from the heat and serve.

Cook's Notes:
A gentle reminder that I link to products only to help those who wish to make my recipes to the letter. I do not receive requests to link to these products, nor do I receive any remuneration for doing so.

Copyright © 2005-2009, Christine Cooks. All rights reserved

Thanks and Giving

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Timing is everything.

We'd been living at our current home, a 2-acre mixture of flat, sharp slope, towering redwoods, and invasive blackberries, for a year or so when we (me actually) decided that we had to raise poultry. I'd raised several flocks of chickens in our previous urban backyards and knew the drill.

Some months later, chickens happily scratching dirt, eating bugs and laying eggs, a friend asked if we wanted two bronze turkey chicks to raise for the table. Well sure, why not? Turkeys can't be any more difficult to raise than chickens. And they weren't. These turkey chicks bonded with the chickens right away, sharing both eating and living space. All was harmonious in the avian world.

The turkeys, fed on a healthy diet of bugs, kitchen scraps and supplemental feed, grew and flourished. Flourished and grew. They became so big that the dogs skirted around them, leaving well-enough alone. Smart dogs.

Our turkeys had beautiful, bronzy feathers and intensely ugly faces. Sweetly dispositioned, they could be approached by any human who wanted to pet them. Eventually they outgrew the chicken pen, so we just left them outside to forage and find a place to sleep at night. And on they grew.

Long about September I started calling them Thanks and Giving, Thanks being the slightly smaller of the two which allowed me to tell them apart. October rolled around, then November, and it was time to do the unsavory deed and get these guys ready for the table. I won't go into the details here. Suffice it to say, they were quickly and humanely dispatched, plucked, cleaned and refrigerated several days before Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving at our house is a big event. Family and friends come from far and wide, filling up our small, cozy home with laughter and love. This is the holiday Mr CC joyfully anticipates from year to year not only because of his love for family gatherings, but because he gets to make the stuffing for the turkey. With wild abandonment and gusto. Just like his grandpa Charley used to do.

The stuffing is started at around 8 am on Thanksgiving day. It takes a little over an hour to prepare then is stuffed into the bird which goes into the oven at around 10 am. We've been doing this for years, why not stick to the schedule? Only this time, when we opened the oven door to put the stuffed bird inside, it wouldn't fit. We looked at each other. We looked at the bird. My, it was big. It was bigger than any turkey we'd ever had. In fact, it was huge. We hadn't weighed it. We hadn't measured it. It hadn't crossed either of our minds to do so. Sometimes tradition wears a blindfold.

Mr. CC had to rig up a rack that sat on the bottom of the oven so the bird would fit, just barely clearing the top of the oven ceiling in our old Wedgewood gas stove. Whew! Turkey in and starting to cook, we turned to other matters. Friends and family who had not already arrived the night before started trickling in. Merriment abounded. Throughout the day the turkey was basted, side dishes were made and the table was set. We would sit down for dinner at 5:30.

Around 4 o'clock a thermometer was placed into the turkey's thigh. Hmmm, not even close. The temperature of the meat was way too low. We cranked the oven up a bit, kept the foil tent in place and closed the oven door.

5:30 came. And went.

6:30.

7:30.

The constant sounds of conversation and laughter began to wane as people wandered into the kitchen looking for food. And the turkey still wasn't done. That's when it began to dawn on Mr CC and I that we hadn't just miscalculated the size of this bird, we hadn't calculated at all. Even when it wouldn't fit into the oven, it hadn't occured to us that it might take many more hours to roast than our previous experiences with turkeys.

At about 8:30, our group of 24 very quiet loved ones looked longingly at the array of side dishes ready for the table. Those faces, filled with hunger, could not be denied. We sat down and ate. The turkey was still in the oven, no mashed potatoes or gravy had been prepared, but we ate anyway. The relief was palpable. Laughter swelled once again. It was Thanksgiving.

The turkey finally came out of the oven at 10 o'clock. Those with enough room in their sated stomaches took a few bites and declared it the most delicious turkey they'd ever tasted, and certainly the biggest.

For weeks afterward, we ate turkey sandwiches, turkey croquettes, turkey omlettes, turkey soups and turkey stews. We gave turkey away to friends, we sent turkey home with family. Thanks, the smaller, 37-pound bird, as we determined the following day, was wrapped and put into the freezer to await the time when we would do this again, sometime in the distant future, where memories of life's awkward moments finally come into their own as humorous stories to be told around the Thanksgiving table.

My friend Katie, blogging from France at Thyme For Cooking , has asked food bloggers to post their most embarrassing holiday recipes for "Skeletons in The Pantry". I do have a recipe for this event, but am not able to post it yet. Meanwhile, reading Katie's intriguing invitation, this little reminiscence just flowed out of my fingertips onto the keyboard this morning. Then I had a hankering to share. I will also share that cleaning and plucking a 40-pound turkey is an experience I will never forget, nor am likely to repeat.

Copyright © 2005-2007, Christine Cooks. All rights reserved