Gelatinous Goodness

After reading Ruhlman’s book The Making of a Chef, I just had to make beef stock. The majority of the book consists of him talking about stock at the CIA and the arguments that ensue among faculty over proper techniques and ingredients. I first started making chicken stock, sort of, while abroad in Ireland. Since buying whole chickens was much cheaper than their dissected counterparts I was often left with carcasses. Never one to waste I always found something to do with the bones. Usually making what I called garbage soup. Throwing whatever I had in the kitchen into a pot with the bones and water to see what I came up with. It was a first step in actually making real stock. I learned a lot about heat control during this as well. Mostly not to leave a pot on high and go for a run because when you return you’ll find that all the water has left and the resident director will be knocking at your door wondering who almost burnt down the building. Low and slow, low and slow.

My opportunity to make beef stock came in the form of frozen bones from my house. My mom had found them in the freezer and knew I would love to take them off her hands. After letting them sit in the freezer for a few weeks I finally had the time to make stock. With all the other needed ingredients in my fridge I awoke Sunday morning with the pains that commonly ail college students on a weekend but dragged me ass out of bed and into the kitchen to roast my bones which I had already defrosted. The smell of the roasting bones got my stomach rumbling. I wanted to dig right into them and pull the meat off, skipping the stock entirely. But I fought the urge, its Lent. Once they were roasted to a nice brown color I put them in a pot with water and let them cook on barely a bubble for six hours. In Ratio Ruhlman says to cook them for ten but I could not wait that long.

After six hours the little bit of meat was falling off the bones. At this point I could not help myself and ate the majority of the meat off. I figure it wouldn’t have that much affect at this point. Returning the half eaten bones to the water I added my mirepoix which I sautéed slightly for even more flavor and my aromatics. Giving it another hour and half I tasted it to make sure it wasn’t missing anything and flavorful enough and I left it cool before straining it. After a few hours in the fridge the fat separated which I scrapped off and kept while the stock turning it gelatinous goodness.

This was the first time I have had or even seen real stock. Until reading The Making of a Chef I believed that stock was made by Swanson. I knew people could make stock but I didn’t know what that really meant. Now I know that the stuff that comes in a can or box is actually broth. It even says it on the side of most, and all these years I was calling it stock. I absolutely loved that my stock became gelatinous. It reminds me nothing of the box of broth I bought a week earlier and I love it for that. My dreams that night were of beef stock. I was that excited about it.

Now what to do with it?

I did save the mirepoix from it, never one to waste. They are perfectly good vegetables still, and now even more flavorful. The next day I added with to rice, delicious.