The Baroness of Beef Stock

Months ago, I promised a stock-making post. My apologies for my lateness. One of the best things you can do as a cook learning to navigate the world of "real food" is to make your own stocks. For this you need bones. My co-op carries grass fed beef bones and elk bones already pre-packaged for making stock. This is a bonus because to gather up enough bones of the right kind you can end up going to several stores. For a brown stock, it's recommended that you get some bones that provide some gelatin like knuckle or ox-tail, some marrow, like shin bone and some bones like ribs that have a small amount of meat on them. You aren't really going to eat this meat, it just adds to the color and flavor of the stock. The pre-packaged bones are around $10 and make a large pot of stock (produces about 80 ounces of stock). Stock-making is a messy, time-consuming process that ends up costing as much as store-bought product, so why do it? There are several reasons. One is quality. I know the beef producers at my co-op and know that these are the best quality bones. I know that there are no additives or other shennanigans because I make it myself. I also know that my stock just tastes better. Make a soup with home made stock and you'll never go back to packaged. It's difficult to explain but it just has a vitality that stock from a can or carton can't equal. So now that I've convinced you to do it, here's what you need to pull it off.

1) Some free time. Pick a day off when you are going to be doing other cooking anyway. Start the stock early and cook it until it's bed time. Since you are going to be running your stove all day, it's best not to do this in say, mid July.

2) A big 'ol pot. I use an inexpensive stock pot I got at a restaurant supply store. It's huge. It holds several gallons of water.

3) Bones: A couple of pounds of mixed bones: beef knuckle, shin, ribs, oxtail, etc. make sure shin bones aren't too long for your pot. You may need to ask the butcher to halve them. Maybe you can get the gentleman of the house to do it for you, if he has a sawz-all that he's been dying to use.

4) Water to cover the bones, I usually add water as the day goes on, but not too much. Weak stock is kind of a waste of time. you can get gourmet and use water from the Brita pitcher if you like. I use tap water.

Technique: Put bones in the pot. If they are frozen cover them with cold water. Add water till it is two or three inches above the bones. Turn that burner on and boil all day. Watch the water level so it doesn't run dry. If it does, don't panic. Unless you let it burn till black you haven't hurt anything. In fact you've just browned the bones which is something many people do in the oven before making stock. It adds a darker color and a carmelized flavor to the stock. The best stock I ever made, was one I almost ruined. Just add water back in to the pot to the original level. As you get to the end of the day, quit adding water so that the stock gets time to strengthen. I usually stop adding water around dinner time (two or three hours left to boil).

Remember to skim the scum off the top of the pot occasionally during cooking. I'm not super dilligent about skimming. I do it when I add water. When you are finished strain into containers. Discard the bones, unless you have a dog who would appreciate them. I understand the marrow is good on toast. I've never tried it, but since I make beef stock once a month, I should get round to it eventually.

This technique should produce about 80 ounces or four English pints of stock.

I use at least one pint right away and freeze the rest. I don't bother to skim the fat from the stock as it's cooking because it will quickly separate out, when the stock is cooled. The fat floats to the top, making a thick, waxy plug of tallow at the top of the container. I use this for cooking, so I store it with the stock until I need it. It almost acts like a canning seal, keeping the stock inside, fresher. Some people recommend freezing the stock in ice cube trays and then emptying them into plastic bags. This just gives you a bunch of little portions of stock. I'm not sure I ever need 1/4 cup of stock. But if you can think of a reason, knock yourself out. Whenever I thaw a pint of stock, I never have trouble using it. Soups, stews, and pilafs are just the beginning. I've even added beef stock to oatmeal. (Yeah, it's weird, I know, but it wasn't as gross as it sounds. I quite liked it actually.)

This technique works well for other kinds of stock. Use a leftover chicken carcass to make home made chicken stock. Lamb stock makes an incredibly lovely lamb stew and stock making is a great use for that leg of lamb bone. If you only have one or two small bones, you can still make stock, either by supplementing with more bones from the butcher or by scaling things down accordingly. The bone left from a whole ham, makes the most divine pea soup in the world as you simply make the stock within the soup pot.

The inevitable gruel post

Michael Gambon as Mr. Woodhouse in the most recent adaptation of Jane Austen's Emma.

So last night I was making wheat flour by milling up wheat berries in a coffee grinder (like ya do) . I had about a quarter cup of wheat pieces that the grinder just couldn't tackle and they were too coarse to go in my pie crust. I was about to throw it out for the birds when I thought to myself, "Gruel!" So I put those wheat bits in about a cup of boiling water for twenty minutes and they developed into a small Emma-sized token portion of water gruel.

You're not going to believe this but I'm totally a gruel fan, now. It had a nice, nutty flavor that tasted just fine without sugar, as opposed to oatmeal which I can't choke down without lots of additional flavoring. I can see myself making gruel for breakfast or as a snack when I get home from work. Mr. Woodhouse would be pleased.

Hungry Planet

This has nothing to do with Jane Austen but over the week-end we went to the Bell Museum at the University of Minnesota and checked out a photography exhibit called "Hungry Planet." Photographer Peter Menzel and journalist Faith D'Alusio put together a photo essay of visits to 30 families in 24 countries for 600 meals. The pictures expose what we eat in a profound way. Of the photos in the exhibit, only two had no processed food in the picture: the families in Mali and Ecuador. Of course with a life expectancy of only 54, Mali is not exactly to be envied or held up as any kind of model. Many families, such as the Ecuadorian shepherds ate no meat. And yet, to my shock they were the healthiest looking people in the exhibit. On the other hand families in Egypt and Australia looked like they might be following the Jane Austen diet until you noticed the stacks of soda in the back ground. And weight was definitely an issue with these families. I think that probably vegans would have a field day with this until you look at the family from India who were vegetarians but had some processed foods and weren't looking as healthy.

What I took away was a profound sense that processed food has really taken over the planet in a diabolical way. Processed vegetable oil is the staple fat for most of the world. The diets we look to as ideal--the French, the Eskimos, the Japanese-- all were inundated with Coca Cola, Ritz Crackers and sugar-laden yogurt snacks. (Those darn French women still looked fantastic despite downing buckets of Yoplait. Grrrrrr. I hates the French!) Of course Americans, who spend more on food than any nation on Earth, had the most processed food of any family in the exhibit. One photo shows a tiny pile of fresh vegetables and meat in a sea of boxes, packages and plastic bottles.

One of the messages that the photographers took away from their project was that Americans simply eat too much. Of course this goes against everything I stand for at the Jane Austen diet, where large quantities of healing, whole foods are the key to health. Not eating enough calories from healthy foods has destroyed the American metabolism. We are fat and starving from a nutrient point of view and that isn't something that the books authors managed to figure out. Apart from this misguided conclusion, I think the book is a very insightful, honest and balanced look at the way the planet eats.

Check out more photos from Hungry Planet.

On the twelth day of Christmas....a butcher!

I had planned to do a big Thanksgiving Jane Austen feast and make a whole bill of fare from The Complete Housewife. I settled for doing the turkey with oyster stuffing. Pretty much everything else on the table was traditional American Thanksgiving food, and one classic from my mom: sweet potatoes in orange halves with melted marshmellow topping. I did make a huge venison pie the week before Thanksgiving which I made in my dry run prep for Turkey Day. It was kind of like a fancy meatloaf inside a huge, thick pastry shell. It was good, but a little weird.

To make the Turkey with oyster stuffing, I'd had to go to two stores. To make the venison pie, I'd had to go to three stores. The day after Thanksgiving I decided to get serious about finding myself a butcher. A friend of mine had recommended a place not too far from my house, that is more of a meat specialty store. They cut their own meat, but for some reason they don't have a lot in the way of offal (organs and such) available, even for special order. I'll probably never be able to make a true Regency feast until I can get a line on more exotic meat like rabbit or calves brains. Still, the honeymoon with my butcher is really in full swing. I've done two standing rib roasts and a couple of hams in the last month and all the fixings. Christmas was all about roast: beef, potatoes, brussel sprouts and Yorkshire Pudding. We bought a mail order plum pudding, which was excellent but not quite up to the standard of home made. I made my own four years ago when I was pregnant with Robert and without those nesting instincts, I don't know if I'll ever manage the stamina to do it again. The largest pudding had to steam for nine hours! This is not a cuisine for wusses.

I've discovered the secret to a good standing rib roast is to get friendly with your butcher and get some extra fat. (They will usually give this to you for free, since most of the time they just toss out the trimmed fat from roasts). I rolled the roast in a mixture of flour, salt, pepper and mustard and fried it on all sides in beef dripping (or tallow, or melted suet) and then cooked it in a "slow" oven (325 degrees) for 20 minutes per pound. It was a little underdone near the bones, but that was fine because I reheated that part the next day for the best hot roast beef sandwiches I've ever had. I suppose if you haven't bought way more roast than you need than your roast will need more time, but really, I would worry about the outer part of the meat drying out. I also used the extra fat my butcher gave me to roast the sprouts, potatoes and the Yorkshire. In the old days, they would roast the joint on a spit and put the potatoes in a pan below, letting the fat drip down and baste the veggies. While this sounds great in theory, there is no way I'd want to try something like that in my oven. I settled for rending the fat out of the suet and putting it in separate roasters from the beef.

Another important key to the success of this roasted meal was pulling the roast out to rest for fifteen minutes before carving. During this time, I cranked up the oven to 425, browned the potatoes, sprouts and cooked the Yorkshire Pudding. Of course during Jane's time, "cranking up the oven" was a more difficult than just turning a knob. The fire needed to be stoked and the walls of the oven needed time to come up to temperature.

Christmas dinner was probably the most satisfying and successful Jane Austen experiment to date. The food was a hit, there were barely any leftovers and two picky four year old diners actually ate a great deal. I suppose the fact that I'm familiar with the meal from my childhood helped. The extra fat was really the way to go here. Modern recipe books call for you to trim the "cap fat" from the roast, but I followed the old school method of leaving it on to help baste the meat. Frying it to seal it in the beginning was a tip I learned from Floyd on Britain, my favorite British cookbook. I looked in my food science book and it said that this type of sealing of meats only dates back to the mid nineteenth century, so it's old school, but not quite old school enough. To be fair, I found this fact out AFTER, I'd tried it and decided it was too delicious to give up in the name of historical accuracy.

As I enter 2010, I have big plans for my Jane Austen cookery. I just read about a local restaurant that does its own butchering for charcuterie. Maybe I can buy some offal from them, or at least find out a supplier in the area. I'll do a post soon on stock making, since that has been a key component of this adventure. Lately, I'm feeling a little beefed out, so I expect that lamb, chicken and fish will be on the menu soon. My husband got me a very fancy new food processor for my birthday. It's French! And it has the word "robot" in the name. If I can't have two or three French cooks, at least I have a French robot to help in the kitchen. The little cookbook that came with it is hilarious as it has a recipe for rabbit and rice baby food! They must have butcher shops in France, still, I guess.