Homemade Stock: The Gift That Keeps on Giving

It's Thanksgiving week, and I'm losing it a little.

You see, I'm hosting Thanksgiving this year. At my boyfriends' house, which will be my house too in ten short days (eeek!). My dear friend and co-host of Cook Yourself Thin, Harry Eastwood is traveling over from Paris to spend the holiday here, her first American Thanksgiving. A lot of firsts, a lot of joy -- and I want to feed it.

So no pressure, but I can't have Harry over and use some boxed stock or store bought pie crust. I mean I can, but...it would be like refilling the Blanton's bottle with Rebel Yell.

And so, yesterday was for stock-making. I've never made it in New Jersey, so I had the distinct pleasure of introducing myself to the butcher at the local grocery store and scoring some chicken backs, necks and wings, as none were on display. The butcher gave me a wink and requested that I return as soon as possible, which bodes well for meat futures.

When The Kid came home with a friend after school, the stock had been simmering for hours. They both commented on how good it smelled, which was nice to hear because let's face it: I wasn't making cookies. Then they spun in circles until they were nauseous, and came to the kitchen for a cure. I doled out small glasses of "miraculous" chicken stock. The Kid drank it and was healed.

I started to wonder what else I could do with this stock. I looked at those meaty little wings and thought: A little BBQ sauce, a broiler, and we've got dinner.

It worked.

After dinner, I strained that stock and kept the extra meat for the dog. No! I was told...don't give that to the dog...it could be lunch. As part of a burrito.

When I worked in restaurants, there were stories of chefs so cheap they fed their staff stock leftovers, or worse yet -- the raft after clarifying a stock. But somehow, in this new place I'm cooking, the diners are fighting the dog for the leftovers.

And, I've got a golden stock the texture of jello in the fridge.

Is it worth making homemade stock? Heck yeah. In addition to the stock, I've got a butcher winking at me, a cure for nausea, and dinner halfway done. As my friend Tamar Haspel would say, that's kitchen momentum.

STOCK-O
Makes one quart

I'm calling this stock-o, because this stock has the texture of jell-o. A thick rich gelatinous stock will make a terrific gravy. Or nausea-curing soup. Leave out the chicken, and you've got vegetable stock.

2 pounds chicken wings, separated at both joints (ask your butcher to do this; it's key for a gelatinous stock)
2 carrots, roughly chopped into 1-inch pieces
2 celery stalks, roughly chopped into 1-inch pieces
1 huge onion, roughly chopped into 1-inch pieces (keep the skin on)
5 sprigs parsley
5 sprigs thyme
2 bay leaves

Place all ingredients in a pot, cover with 2 quarts of water and bring to a simmer. Simmer, uncovered, for 3 1/2 to 4 hours, until it tastes vibrant. Let cool, remove large pieces of meat and vegetable with a slotted spoon; strain remaining stock. Let cool, remove fat, refrigerate or freeze until ready to use.

I'm Baaaaack: The Kid's Baked Macaroni with Parmesan

HEAR YE, HEAR YE.
I’m calling this blog back into effect.

I’ve had a year-long break from the blog, because, well…I needed a little space. And privacy.

You see, I’ve been dating a single dad for the last year or so, and about this time last year I was introduced to The Kid. Who is nine. And she can read.

Which is super-scary for a single chick who blogs about her love life. I remember the day she announced that she and her friends had Googled me.

God, no. I thought I’d have years before I was responsible for a kid who could read.

And then I remembered, I didn’t really have anything to fear on the Internet. I mean, there’s always www.myexgirlfriend.com, but until she has a credit card I’m safe there.

But still, The Kid made me nervous. I respected her. And the relationship I was in. I didn’t want to process that stuff in the open. So there’s been a hiatus.

But now I’m back.

And I’ve missed you a whole lot.

Between Home Made Simple, Cook Yourself Thin, and The Wooden Spoon, I’ve spent a lot of time talking to moms about cooking. But I wasn’t a mom; I was a single chick living in Brooklyn. It’s easy to say how easy it is to organize a kitchen, eat right and have dinner parties when you’re just worried about you.

Yep, I went from single to something sort of like “step”. It’s not just me in my kitchen any more, and this time around I’ve got a smaller, more challenging mouth to feed.

So in this next iteration of the blog, I’ll focus on this unique experience of dating a Dad and mothering without being a mom, like trying to make New England Clam Chowder dinner for your boyfriend (on request) only to have his daughter spit those tender cherrystones into her napkin. But there’s a flipside, like when the dynamic duo bring me breakfast in bed after I’ve been traveling for a week. This blended family thing complex. And it’s kinda great too.

I’m the same old Allison, just a version who walks a 9-year old to school in the morning, interviews babysitters and work bake sales. I also sign spelling tests.

I still eat and cook some damn good food. Maybe better, now that I've got a grill, fireplace and an herb garden.

And though you may have enjoyed my Brooklyn girl adventures in the past, I’m Manhattan-bicoastal now; splitting time between Brooklyn and New Jersey. Instead of dating this guy and that, I’m in two serious monogamous relationships: one with a dad and one with his daughter.

And I’ve got a brand-new decades-old suburban kitchen to work in, complete with a pantry full food like potato chips, fruit snacks, Capri-Sun, and way too much leftover Halloween candy that no one eats but me.

I wished for a family and I got one, a little bit differently than how I imagined it would be. And now, the adventure continues.


The Kid’s Mac and Cheese
As part of The Kid’s 9th birthday celebration, we hosted a dinner. Dad, daughter and I each picked a recipe from a cookbook and made them. I chose a roasted mushroom salad on greens (thank you, Alice Waters), he chose a long-cooked broccoli (Alice again), while The Kid went with Mac and Cheese (The Spoon Children’s Cookbook). Can you guess the table favorite?


Baked Macaroni with Parmesan
Adapted from The Silver Spoon for Children

INGREDIENTS

For the béchamel sauce:

4 tablespoons butter

½ cup all-purpose flour

1 ¼ cups whole milk

freshly ground black pepper

For the baked macaroni:

2 ¾ cups elbow macaroni

1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

3/4 cup grated cheddar cheese (buy the brick and grate it. C'mon now!)

DIRECTIONS


1. Turn on the oven to 400 °F. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook the pasta according to package directions.

2. Melt the butter in a small pan over gentle heat. As soon as the butter has melted, add the flour and cook the mixture over medium heat for 1 minute, stirring constantly to make a smooth glossy paste (this is the roux).

3. Remove pan from the heat, add 1/4 cup of the milk and whisk until smooth. Return the pan to the heat and continue adding the milk slowly until you've whisked it all in -- you're whisking and adding slowly to prevent the sauce from going lumpy.

4. Keep the pan on low heat and let the sauce cook very gently for 3-4 minutes, stirring constantly. The sauce will continue to thicken as it cooks. You will know it’s ready when the sauce is thick enough to coat the back of your wooden spoon. Add the Parmesan and Cheddar to the béchamel sauce and season with a little freshly ground black pepper.

5. Pour half (key step that I missed first time around; don't let that happen to you) of the béchamel sauce over the macaroni and mix the macaroni and sauce together.

6. Spoon the macaroni into an oven-safe dish about 10 inches square (or oval, or even a skillet). Spread the remaining béchamel sauce over the top of macaroni.

7. Put the dish onto a baking tray and cook for 20 minutes until it is golden brown and bubbling.