Monday, March 1, 2010
An Observance of Chicken Stock
11:44 AM
11:44 AM
Mary, my dear, I sympathize with you. I had quite a night of poultry-partying myself. Had no idea that the heart and innards would still be attached to the bird and I would have to cut them out myself.
After a long, boring and depressing day at work, I decided that I needed a bit of cheering up, and I think we can all agree that the best place for that is the grocery store. Plus, my friend Heather is a bit under the weather [2 points for non-intentional rhyming?] and so I told her I'd make her some chicken soup, which gave me another excuse -- as if I needed one! -- to visit the market.
Now, I think it's probably not the best idea to start making chicken stock at 9:00 at night, but then again, I had the time and didn't mind staying up until midnight with my simmering pot. I opened up the first volume of the Grand Diplôme to quickly re-read the instructions of cutting up a chicken, imagining myself to be Sabrina longing for David and only half-paying attention to the directions. After hacking -- like my eloquent terminology? ha -- the poor bird up, Gary the Cat being quite a nuisance and meowing at the top of his hungry-little-lungs for a bit of chicken like the 19th century street urchin that he is, I had everything in my great-grandmother's giant, ancient stock pot and bubbling away by 10:00 and another gallon bag of stock-ready ingredients stashed away in the freezer for another night. I spent the ensuing hours reading up on the life of John Lennon and listening to A Hard Day's Night.
By 12:30, I had the stock in Tupperware containers [took me nearly a half of an hour to find lids for all of them; good gravy, what a mess!], chicken shredded, carrots, onions and celery cut up and a fridge full of chicken-y goodness. I went to bed satisfied that I could totally be a pioneer wife -- move over Laura Ingalls Wilder -- and spent another hour delving into Lord of the Flies, which I feel cheated for never having been made to read in high school. If only you could see me raising my fist in protest right now!
Your Pioneer Mama,
Cristina
P.S. Once I get my camera fixed, or purchase a new one, I'll be sure to post pictures of what we're making so this doesn't end up being boring and wordy.
After a long, boring and depressing day at work, I decided that I needed a bit of cheering up, and I think we can all agree that the best place for that is the grocery store. Plus, my friend Heather is a bit under the weather [2 points for non-intentional rhyming?] and so I told her I'd make her some chicken soup, which gave me another excuse -- as if I needed one! -- to visit the market.
Now, I think it's probably not the best idea to start making chicken stock at 9:00 at night, but then again, I had the time and didn't mind staying up until midnight with my simmering pot. I opened up the first volume of the Grand Diplôme to quickly re-read the instructions of cutting up a chicken, imagining myself to be Sabrina longing for David and only half-paying attention to the directions. After hacking -- like my eloquent terminology? ha -- the poor bird up, Gary the Cat being quite a nuisance and meowing at the top of his hungry-little-lungs for a bit of chicken like the 19th century street urchin that he is, I had everything in my great-grandmother's giant, ancient stock pot and bubbling away by 10:00 and another gallon bag of stock-ready ingredients stashed away in the freezer for another night. I spent the ensuing hours reading up on the life of John Lennon and listening to A Hard Day's Night.
By 12:30, I had the stock in Tupperware containers [took me nearly a half of an hour to find lids for all of them; good gravy, what a mess!], chicken shredded, carrots, onions and celery cut up and a fridge full of chicken-y goodness. I went to bed satisfied that I could totally be a pioneer wife -- move over Laura Ingalls Wilder -- and spent another hour delving into Lord of the Flies, which I feel cheated for never having been made to read in high school. If only you could see me raising my fist in protest right now!
Your Pioneer Mama,
Cristina
P.S. Once I get my camera fixed, or purchase a new one, I'll be sure to post pictures of what we're making so this doesn't end up being boring and wordy.