We all come to cooking because we love to eat.
And consumption is truly the highest pleasure in the complex process that is the enjoyment of food. Much of the food world is centered around the pursuit of taste, encouraging us to encounter food only in its final stage, seasoned and plated as we move it into our mouths. I, too, participate in the fantasy of that last moment of a meal: propelling myself ever forward toward transcendant flavors and remembering fantastic meals with a painfully poignant nostalgia. But while theatrics on the plate may wow our palates and satisfy our stomachs, the truth is cooking, and indeed gardening, lives not in the meal itself, but within the dream of that first bite.
Dreaming that dream can be, and often is, more compelling than its ultimate fulfillment. And that's why I find myself in the kitchen again and again: because cooking feeds the spirit well before it fills the stomach.
As winter is nigh, today I find myself making soup stock, and there is nothing that embodies my "the path is the point" cooking philosophy better than a day of simmering stock. As I begin, I am always reminded of countless culinary pleasures that have nothing to do with taste.
My eyes delight in the picture of deep red and white soup bones peppered with halved root vegetables in oranges and browns set against a deep stainless steel roasting pan. The weight and size of the bones had promised a density of flavor as I placed them in the pan. The oven warms the air in our kitchen, which is, due to dated construction and shoddy insulation, the coldest room in the house. I put the bones in the oven to roast, hefting the pan carefully. Soon a delicious smell emanates from the kitchen, promising things to come. As the rest of the day takes place, the smell pervades every corner of the house, reminding me that the stove and the oven are pregnant with possibility.
I admit I am confronted by a kind of animal disillusionment when I remember there's only the preview of a meal there, instead of some delicious roast or a hearty soup. Still, I am patient. Meals in the cold months are full of root vegetables, warm and usually deeply satisfying -- and stock is all of these things, so I know it will lend depth to every dish I make. And besides, the onset of stock season balances the sudden shock of the freshly freezing cold mornings on the farm. When the stock is finally done, I cover it and allow the liquid to cool.
I'm already flipping glossy pages of cookbooks, planning out what I'm going to make, and more importantly how I'm going to eat it: it will likely become a bean and tuscan kale soup, heated on the stove and consumed on the front porch of the small house that currently serves as a makeshift hunting lodge in the center of the farm. My stock will always have both a story (beginning as leftover broccoli stems and bones from a once-cow) and a story-to-be (soup for hungry harvesters on a crisp fall day). These stories are why my spirit will always be full up when I finally leave the kitchen.
So cook with me sometime. Here are two home-cook recipes for making stock.
Vegetable- Carrots
- Fennel Tops
- Potatoes (sweet or regular)
- Onions with skins intact
- A few garlic cloves
- Broccoli or cauliflower stems
- White or purple Japanese turnips, greens removed
- White peppercorns
- One or two bay leaves
Wait to make stock until you have a supply of past-prime vegetables, peels and stems. If most of your components are large, cut them into manageable chunks and roast, at 400 degrees, for half an hour or so. I don't recommend roasting if you are mainly using peels instead of the vegetables themselves -- just throw them in the pot instead. Smash the garlic cloves, with skins still on, and add them. Cover vegetables fully with water, and use extra, because some will cook away. Now simmer for one or two hours, occasionally tasting the stock. The color of the liquid will deepen to a golden brown and the taste will become rich and satisfying.
Beef- A good amount of soup bones, say 3-4 pounds.
- One marrow bone.
- Potatoes (sweet or regular)
- Carrots
- Onions with skins intact
- White or purple Japanese turnips, greens removed
- White peppercorns
- Garlic
- Bay leaf
Search out bones at your local farmers' market: meat vendors often carry them and will be happy to unload them on you. Roast bones in a deep pan on 400 degrees for about half an hour. Add in potatoes, carrots, onions and turnips and roast for another half an hour. Now place contents of roasting pan in a stockpot and cover fully with water. Smash garlic cloves with skins on, and add along with white peppercorns and bay leaf. Simmer for 4-6 hours, adding more water if necessary to keep bones submerged. Skim off fat and foam and taste for doneness. A browner color should pervade beef stock in comparison with the lighter liquid yielded by vegetables. The liquid should be thick, beefy and delicious.
