My First REAL Stock

Last night I made my first real poultry stock. We had Thanksgiving Day dinner at my mom’s, so we had our own T-day dinner yesterday with the kids. I’d made stock from turkey and chicken carcasses many times, but I never did it right until I’d read this post on making stock in Michael Ruhlman’s blog.

In the past, I’d remove all the meat from the bird, toss it into a pot, cover it with water, throw in herbs and root veggies and (gasp!) boil it for a few hours. Then I’d strain out all the bones and bits and package it for the freezer. Now don’t get me wrong, I’d get usable stock, and I was able to make it into some tasty soups, but I didn’t understand the essence of what that stock was meant to be.

The boiling part was something I never really thought about. I figured I was churning that bird with a fundamental force of nature to remove all the flavor I could from what was in the pot and the boiling would concentrate those flavors as the stock reduced a bit. Bzzzzt! Thanks for Playing, here are your lovely parting gifts: an emulsified liquid with fat and impurities mixed with the broth. Not what you want.

I started like always: I stripped the bird of as much usable meat as possible and threw the rest into my trusty 12 quart stock pot. Earlier, I had slow cooked the neck, gizzard, heart, and liver in a small sauce pan. I used some of the resulting liquid when making gravy and poured the rest into the stock pot as a starter. I filled it the rest of the way with water until the carcass was covered by about an inch and put it on the stove at medium high heat. As the water began to reach a simmer, there was indeed some bubbly goop that needed to be skimmed.

After skimming, I put the pot in the oven, which had been preheated to 180 degrees. (Unfortunately, some oven thermometers don’t register below 200, so you’ll either have to trust your oven, or get a thermometer that does.) I did stray from Ruhlman’s suggested method by adding my onions and carrots a little early; I don’t think it hurt, but next time I won’t do that.

The first thing I noticed was how different the aroma was. The smells emanating from the pot were richer, deeper, more poultry-like. I went to take Harley (our dog) out and when I came back inside the aroma enveloped me in the pleasant arms of good home cooking. It smelled like another turkey was roasting in the oven. In addition, I got the sense that the stock was really working; all the flavors from that bird were being extracted in an optimum way.

Then I left it alone for 4 1/2 hours, all the while enjoying that delicious smell. When it was time for about another hour of cooking, I added parsley, thyme, garlic, and bay. An hour later it was ready.

The richness and aroma hit me again during straining, which revealed a carcass that was as broken down as you can imagine. Every bit of remaining meat had fallen off the bones and every piece of connecting tissue had fallen apart. Harley was quite attentive as I discarded the remains. Renée found a few tidbits for him, and he hung at my heel hoping for more.

I packaged some for the fridge to be used right away and some for the freezer for those winter day to come when it will add magic to a future dish. That’s what I love most about this kind of cooking; it gives you a sense of comfort and familiarity, yet enables you to build on it to cook extraordinarily good things.

I’m almost ashamed to admit that, in the past, I’d wondered what the big deal was with stock. My past stocks were just not very flavorful. This was different. This was another planet. This stock was deep and rich with flavor. I was blown away. This is indeed a fundamental step in good cooking.

Try this stock making method and I guarantee you’ll see and taste the difference.

Can’t wait to make soup!

Tagged as: bay leaves, carrots, chicken, Garlic, Michael Ruhlman, onions, Parsley, Roasting, Stock, stock pot, Thanksgiving, thyme