A Simple Goat Cheese Tart (and a Valentine's Day Salad with Dried Tart Cherries, Pears & Toasted Hazelnuts)





During my years at The American Restaurant in Kansas City, I was given several opportunities to create items for the dinner menu. At the time I thought, and still think, that this was quite an honor (I was just a young cook, after all). It was also a great exercise in applying the things I was learning about food every day—how to combine flavors in a harmonious and thoughtful way and then present them beautifully. Even at this early stage in my career, my interests leaned toward vegetables and the seeming never-ending possibility that they present. Because of this, most of my menu items were salads, appetizers and vegetable side dishes. One of my all time favorites was a salad course that featured a simple goat cheese tart.

My goal when I was working on this tart was to create a tart filling that was more dense than it was custardy. I discovered that, just as with a dessert-style cheesecake, it was the addition of cream (or milk, or half & half), not the addition of the egg, that gave a custardy effect. After one or two tries, I found that I didn't want any liquid in the tart at all. My final version was nothing more than soft goat cheese, bound with just enough egg so that the tart could be sliced. The result—warm goat cheese cradled in a crisp crust—was exactly what I was after.

The tart, as we served it at The American, featured fresh Laura Chenel goat cheese and was sprinkled with some minced thyme and rosemary. It was garnished with fennel and orange infused Niçoise olives and served alongside a small salad of baby greens dressed with a simple red wine vinaigrette. I was so pleased with this menu item. It stayed on the menu for a relatively long period and even garnered a positive mention in a New York Times Review.

As much as I liked it, I have not made this tart in years. I decided to pull it out and dust it off for an upcoming dinner class at The Community Mercantile in Lawrence, Kansas. Although I loved the Provençal flavors of the original accompaniments, because this dinner falls on the Friday before Valentine's day, I decided to garnish it with a salad featuring dried tart cherries, pears and a port-reduction vinaigrette. The sweet tart flavors are wonderful with the goat cheese.

When I made the tart again the other day—sort of a trial run before the dinner to verify that the written recipe that I will be handing out at the dinner is accurate—instead of just sprinkling the tart with the minced herbs, I folded them in along with the zest of a lemon. The lemon is particularly nice with the dried cherries and port. I also found when I started to make the tart that I was 4 oz. short of goat cheese. I happened to have about 4 oz. of mascarpone left over from something else, so I used that to make up the balance. It turned out very nice—maybe a tad softer than the original version. I have noticed a goat cheese tart in the Balthazar Cookbook that cuts the goat cheese with half cream cheese—a tasty and money saving alternative.

One of the nice things about this tart is that it can be made ahead—making it a perfect first course for a dinner party...or a ladies luncheon.  Also, once you begin to think about the kinds of things that you like to pair with goat cheese (olives, dried and fresh fruits—in particular cherries & figs, roasted red peppers, beets, fresh fennel, tomatoes, summer and winter squash,...) the possible accompaniments for this simple little tart begin to multiply....  

Goat Cheese Tart

1 lb. soft goat cheese (Montrachet type), at room temperature
1 t. minced fresh thyme, plus more for sprinkling over the tart
1/4 t. minced fresh rosemary, plus more for sprinkling over the tart
zest of 1/2 a lemon
2 large eggs, beaten
salt and freshly-ground pepper
one blind-baked 9-inch Pâte Brisée tart shell (see below)

In a mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the goat cheese just until smooth. Beat in the herbs and lemon zest. Gradually beat in the egg until fully incorporated.

Spread the goat cheese mixture into the tart shell and sprinkle with the reserved herbs.

Bake at 325° until just set—about 25 minutes. Cool. The tart may be made the day before serving. To serve, cut into wedges and warm in a low oven. Serves 8 as part of a light entrée or 12 to 16 as part of a first course salad.

Note: For the original version of this tart, omit the lemon zest and the minced herbs from the filling. Sprinkle the surface of the tart lightly with some of the minced herbs before baking.

Pâte Brisée (Short Crust Pastry):
1 c. all-purpose flour (4 oz.)
1/4 t. salt
6 T. (3 oz.) unsalted butter, chilled and sliced
2 to 3 T. ice water

Combine the flour and the salt in a medium-sized bowl. Add the butter. Rub the butter into the flour until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Drizzle 2 T. ice water over the flour/butter mixture. Using your hands, fluff the mixture until it begins to clump, adding more water, a bit at a time, if necessary. Turn the dough out onto a counter and form into a mound. Using the heel of your hand, gradually push all of the dough away from you in short forward strokes, flattening out the lumps. Continue until all of the dough is flat. Using a bench scraper, scrape the dough off the counter, forming it into a single clump as you do. Form the finished dough into a thick disk. Chill for at least 30 minutes.

To roll out: Let the disk of dough warm up for a moment or two. Butter a 9-inch removable-bottom tart pan. On a floured surface, using a floured rolling pin, roll out the dough into a circle that is about 1/8-inch thick. Brush off the excess flour and transfer the dough to the prepared pan. Ease the dough into the pan being careful not to stretch it. Cut the dough off flush with the edge of the pan by pressing gently. Chill the shell for at least 1/2 hour.

To blind bake: Line the pastry with aluminum foil or parchment paper, pressing it into the corners and edges. Add a layer of pie weights or dried beans. Bake in a 400° to 425° oven for 10 to 18 minutes. When the pastry begins to color on the edges, remove the foil and weights and continue baking until the pastry dries out and turns a light golden color. Let cool before filling.

Note: The tart dough may be made ahead and frozen—raw in disk form, or rolled out in the pan (raw or baked).

Salad of Baby Greens, Pears, Hazelnuts & Dried Tart Cherries

1 c. Port
2 T. red wine vinegar
1 T. lemon juice, or to taste
1 shallot, minced (about 1 1/2 to 2 T. minced shallot)
6 T. Olive oil

8 small handfuls of mixed baby lettuces (5 or 6 oz.)
2 ripe pears (Anjou or Bartlett)
1/2 to 3/4 cup hazelnuts, toasted, skinned and coarsely chopped
1/2 cup dried tart cherries

Simmer the port in a small saucepan set over low heat until reduced to 2 T. of syrupy liquid. Set aside to cool.

While the port reduces, place the vinegar and lemon juice in a small bowl with the shallots. Let the shallots macerate briefly to soften. Whisk in the cooled reduced port and season with salt & pepper. Gradually whisk in the olive oil. Taste and correct the seasoning and balance.

Place the greens in a large bowl. If the pears are firm (or even crisp), halve core and thinly slice, lengthwise (a mandoline slicer works well for this). If the pears are buttery-soft, peel, halve, core and cut into a 1/2-inch dice. Add the pears to the lettuces along with some of the hazelnuts and cherries. Season with salt & pepper and drizzle with some of the vinaigrette. Toss until the greens and pears are lightly but thoroughly coated with the vinaigrette. Divide the salad among individual serving plates, sprinkling with more hazelnuts and cherries and drizzling with a little more vinaigrette, if desired.

Serves 8 alongside a small wedge of goat cheese tart as a salad course. Serves 4 as a light entrée or lunch course with a larger slice of tart.

Chocolate Hazelnut Cookies

I am always on the lookout for good cookie recipes—you can never have too many.... On a recent visit to Lara Ferroni's blog Cook and Eat I found a recipe for a cookie that I knew I had to try—Chocolate Hazelnut Cookies. Conceived of along the lines of a traditional chocolate chip cookie, but with the addition of some cocoa and hazelnut flour, they seem like a particularly good idea.  I love this flavor combination and I was so pleased with the Chocolate Gingerbread recipe that I found on her blog last fall that I felt like this cookie recipe would probably be a winner, too.  And they are.  The dough bakes up into a slightly chewy, chocolate-y cookie with a rich background taste of roasted hazelnuts.  They are excellent with a cup of strong coffee.

The original recipe calls for a combination of all-purpose and whole wheat flours. I made my second batch with just all-purpose flour. The cookies are fine with the whole wheat flour, but I like them best without it. I don't always object to incorporating whole wheat flour into cookies. Cookies—like these—that have ingredients with strong flavors and textures that can stand up to the presence of the whole wheat are a good place to tuck in a little bit of whole grain goodness. Last year I posted a favorite recipe for Banana-Walnut Cookies that includes whole wheat flour. But there was something about this cookie that made me rebel a little bit at the thought of adding whole wheat flour. Sometimes it's nice just to splurge on a cookie (or two) and not worry too much about whether or not they are good for you.

Chocolate Hazelnut Cookies

1/3 c. (45 g) hazelnuts
1 1/4 c. (150 g) all-purpose flour
1/3 c. (25 g) cocoa powder (Dutch-processed)
1/2 t. baking powder
1/2 t. baking soda
1/2 t. salt
4 oz. unsalted butter, softened
1/2 c. (100 g) golden brown sugar
1/2 c. (100 g) sugar
1 egg
1 t. vanilla
1c. semi-sweet chocolate chips

Spread the hazelnuts on a baking sheet and toast in a 350° oven until the skins begin to split and the nuts (under the skins) are turning a golden brown—about 10 to 15 minutes. Wrap the warm nuts in a towel (use an old towel—the hazelnuts will stain your towel) and allow them to steam for a few minutes to encourage the skins to come off. Rub the nuts vigorously with the towel to remove as much of the skins as will easily come away. Generally speaking, the skins of hazelnuts are bitter and you want to remove as much as possible. For these cookies, this doesn't seem to be an issue, so it isn't necessary to work too hard at this. Let the nuts cool and then grind them flour-fine. A nut grinder works best for this, but you can grind them in the food processor if you add a couple of tablespoons of the granulated sugar.  If using the food processor, you will not be able to grind the nuts as finely—they would turn into nut butter if you tried.  (You could also use purchased hazelnut flour. Toast the nut flour briefly—until fragrant—and let cool before using.)

Whisk the nut flour together with the all-purpose flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside.

Cream the butter with the sugars just until smooth. Scrape down the sides of the bowl, and beat in the egg followed by the vanilla. Add the dry ingredients and mix on low speed until just combined. The dough will be very stiff and will seem dry. Add the chocolate chips as the last of the dry ingredients are disappearing into the dough.

You can bake these immediately, but I think they taste better if the dough chills overnight. Scoop the dough with a level tablespoon-sized cookie scoop. Roll the scooped cookies into balls and place on a parchment-lined baking sheet, spreading the balls 2 inches apart. Flatten the balls slightly.

Bake the cookies in a 350° oven for about 8 to 9 minutes, turning the sheet half way through the baking. The cookies will puff up as they bake and begin to crack. The cookies will just be beginning to collapse when you remove them from the oven (all of them may not have begun to collapse, but take them out anyway or they will be hard and crunchy when they are cool).

Since the cookies will still be quite soft, allow them to sit on the cookie sheets for 2 or 3 minutes (until they are firm enough to lift with a spatula) before transferring to wire racks to cool completely. Makes about 3 dozen cookies.

(Recipe adapted from the original at Cook and Eat  to create a chewier, less crunchy, cookie)

Printable Recipe

Pasta with Shredded Brussels Sprouts & Bacon





We had one of my favorite winter pastas for dinner last night—Orecchiette with Shredded Brussels Sprouts and Bacon. Since I noticed a few days ago that I hadn't posted a pasta recipe in a couple of months, I thought I would share it here. Brussels sprouts may seem like an odd thing to turn into a pasta sauce, but one of the things I love about pasta is that almost anything, if given an appropriate treatment, can be used to dress pasta.

I have been making this recipe for so long now, it is like putting on a comfortable pair of slippers at the end of a long day. Which made it perfect for yesterday—a day filled with lots of cooking, then shopping for more cooking...with lots of snow shoveling tucked in between. The recipe is based on a vegetable side dish in Alice Water's Chez Panisse Vegetables—and indeed it makes a pretty wonderful side dish, but I like to have it on pasta for a quick, satisfying, one-dish meal.

As you read the recipe, you may have a slight feeling of déjà vu. I hadn't thought about it before, but this dish has a lot in common with the Warm Cabbage Salad that I posted a few days ago. Both dishes feature a member of the cabbage family, shredded and cooked in a base of onions, garlic, herbs and then accented with a salty pork product, nuts and cheese. In one, the cabbage is barely cooked, so that it retains a bit of crunch, and is then finished with a bit of vinegar to become a salad. In the other, the baby cabbages are braised to softness and tossed with noodles to make a hearty pasta dish. This is one of the things I love about cooking—how much difference small details can make.

I don't always top this pasta with minced walnuts and finely grated Pecorino—most of the time I top it with toasted breadcrumbs. Either finish adds crunch. The breadcrumbs add sweetness, the nuts and cheese add salt. How you finish it will depend on your mood. This really is a very easy going dish. If you don't have red onions, use yellow onions or shallots instead. Pancetta in place of the smoked bacon is also very nice.  On the occasion when I prepare Brussels sprouts this way as a side dish, I usually dispense with the breadcrumbs, nuts and cheese altogether.  Sometimes I tuck in a diced sautéed apple—always a happy combination with cabbage, bacon and onions.  However you choose to prepare it—on pasta or as a side—if you have never thought to shred and braise Brussels sprouts, much less toss them with pasta, I hope you will give this dish a try. Maybe it will become one of your favorites, too.

Pasta with Shredded Brussels Sprouts & Bacon

1 to 1 ¼ lb. Brussels Sprouts
4 to 5 oz. bacon, cut cross-wise in ¼” strips
1 medium red onion
2 cloves garlic, finely minced (optional)
pinch red pepper flakes (optional)
a few sprigs of thyme, leaves picked and coarsely chopped
¼ c. chicken stock or water
1 lb. orecchiette or farfalle
Extra virgin olive oil
4 to 6 T. Toasted breadcrumbs

Cut out the stems, and separate the sprouts into leaves. Thinly slice the hearts.

Cook the bacon in a large sauté pan over medium to medium-low heat. While the bacon is cooking, quarter the onion lengthwise and then thinly slice the quarters crosswise; set aside. When the bacon is nearly crisp,

transfer it to a plate using a slotted spoon. Return the pan with the bacon fat to the stove and increase the heat slightly (medium to medium high). Add the onions and sauté, stirring frequently, until the onions are wilted and nicely caramelized (about 5 minutes).

If using, add the garlic, pepper flakes and/or thyme and cook, stirring, until fragrant—about 1 minute. Add the sprouts to the pan along with the bacon. Stir to coat the sprouts with the bacon fat. If the pan seems dry (if the bacon was very lean) add a little olive oil. Reduce the heat and add the stock or water and season lightly with salt.

Cover and cook until the sprouts are wilted and tender—about 10 minutes. Check the sprouts occasionally as they cook; if they seem dry, add more stock or water.

While the sprouts are cooking, bring 6 quarts of water to the boil in a large stock/pasta pot. Add 2 to 3 Tablespoons of salt. Add the pasta and cook until al dente. Drain. Add the pasta to the Brussels sprouts.

If the pasta seems dry, add a splash of the pasta water. Season with black pepper and salt, if necessary. Divide the pasta among shallow pasta/soup bowls and drizzle each with a bit of good quality extra virgin olive oil. Sprinkle with toasted breadcrumbs and serve.  Serves 4 to 6

(Recipe adapted from Chez Panisse Vegetables by Alice Waters)

To toast breadcrumbs: In a food processor, process sliced/torn bread (crusts removed if they are very hard), until bread is in uniform soft crumbs. Spread crumbs on a rimmed cookie sheet and “toast” in a 300 degree oven until golden brown and dry, stirring occasionally (about 30 minutes). Drizzle crumbs with olive oil and toss to combine. Crumbs can be used immediately or cooled and stored airtight at room temperature for a week or so.

Variation: Instead of breadcrumbs, top the pasta with toasted and finely chopped walnuts (4 to 6 T.) and a generous grating of Pecorino.





My Introduction to Farro in "Farro & Tuscan Kale Soup"



One of the things I love about cooking is that there is always more to learn—new ingredients, new/different methods, new equipment.  Of course most of these things are not really "new", but they are new to me as I am continuing to learn. Recently something I have been wanting to learn more about is farro. Farro is an ancient form of wheat from the Mediterranean. For a variety of reasons it is experiencing a surge in popularity on restaurant menus here in the United States. Consequently, it is showing up with increasing frequency in cookbooks and trendy food magazines. After looking for local sources for farro off and on for a couple of years, I finally decided to purchase a bag on-line so that I could cook with it and taste it for myself. If I like everything else I try as well as the soup I made the other night, this will certainly not be the last time I write a post about it.

The farro that I purchased is "semi-pearled". When a grain is "pearled", it is polished to remove the bran. Grains are pearled to speed up their cooking times. A "semi-pearled" grain still has some of the bran left on. This means it retains much of its nutritional value. Since a semi-pearled grain will cook almost as quickly as a pearled grain, this seems like an excellent compromise. Apparently semi-pearled is the form in which farro is most typically sold in Italy, too. From what I have been able to tell, unless a recipe calls for "whole farro", semi-pearled or pearled is probably what is meant.

One other thing I thought I would mention is that many cookbooks (and other resources) state that farro is the same thing as spelt (another ancient form of wheat). This is not true. Farro is Triticum dicoccum and spelt is Triticum spelta. The reason that I mention this is that spelt is widely available.  If you are looking for farro and can't find it, but have been told that spelt is the same thing and you find that, you would have no reason not to purchase the spelt and use it in your recipe. Since in my experience most of the spelt that is available is a true whole grain (unpolished) it will take much longer to cook than pearled or semi-pearled farro. I'm guessing that you can use whole spelt interchangeably with whole farro—but as I mentioned, that's not what most recipes call for.

The soup I made is Farro & Tuscan Kale Soup adapted from Olives & Oranges by Sara Jenkins and Mindy Fox. The soup is well named because the farro and the Tuscan kale (also called Lacinato Kale, Dinosaur Kale, Cavolo Nero, or Tuscan Black Cabbage) are the unabashed stars of the show. After making a flavorful base of pancetta, aromatic vegetables and a hint of tomato, you add the farro and kale, along with water or a light broth, and simmer until both the farro and kale are tender—the two conveniently take about the same amount of time to cook.  It could hardly be easier.

I found many variations on this traditional soup during a quick internet search. You will find variations that use canned tomatoes instead of tomato paste—no doubt creating a richer, more forward tomato presence. There are also recipes that add potatoes and/or cooked white beans with the farro and kale. Excellent additions, I'm sure...but I really loved the simplicity of the soup without these. Finally, Jenkins recipe did not include the pancetta that I did—although she does suggest it as an authentic variation. I can't imagine the soup without it. I love the added depth that just a touch of cured meat adds to a soup.

In the book, they suggest serving the soup topped with a soft poached egg for a complete meal...and next time I will have to try it that way. As I said, we loved this soup. It was even better the next day. I do have one complaint though. With a bowl of soup that is filled with wheat, I found it hard to justify accompanying my bowl of soup with a nice crusty piece of bread.... No matter.  I made up for it by having a second helping of soup.

Farro & Tuscan Kale Soup

2 T. Olive oil
2 oz. pancetta, finely diced
1 leek, white and pale green only, halved and cut in 1/3-inch dice and thoroughly rinsed in several changes of water
1 small onion (4 to 6 oz.), cut in ¼-inch dice
2 medium stalks celery, trimmed and cut in ¼-inch dice
1 large carrot, peeled and cut in ¼-inch dice
Salt & freshly ground pepper, to taste
3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
2 to 3 t. double concentrate tomato paste
6 to 8 cups water, or chicken/vegetable stock or a mixture
1 c. farro, preferably semi-pearled, but pearled may also be used—rinsed
2 bunches Tuscan Kale, stems stripped away, leaves cut in 1/2-inch wide ribbons and thoroughly rinsed
Parmesan and Olive oil for serving

Heat the olive oil in a large soup pot set over medium heat. Add the pancetta and cook until fat is mostly rendered—3 minutes or so.

Add the leek, onion, celery and carrot along with some salt and freshly ground pepper. Cook until the vegetables are wilted and beginning to soften—about 5 to 7 minutes.

Add the garlic and cook for another minute. Whisk the tomato paste into 1 cup of water and add. Bring to a simmer and cook until all of the liquid has evaporated—about 20 minutes.

Add another 5 cups of water (or stock), the farro and the kale.

Bring to a simmer (the kale will collapse to the level of the liquid within a few minutes) and cook, stirring occasionally, until the farro and kale are both tender and the flavors of the soup are blended—about 25 to 40 minutes. If, at any time after the kale collapses, the soup seems too crowded, add more water and continue to cook. When the farro and kale are tender, taste and correct the seasoning with salt and pepper. Serve with a drizzle of olive oil and some freshly shaved or grated Parmesan cheese.

Makes about 2 quarts of soup, serving 4 to 6.

(Recipe adapted from Olives & Oranges by Sara Jenkins & Mindy Fox)


Notes & Variations:
• If you have any rinds of Parmesan in your cheese drawer, add them to the soup with the farro and kale. They add wonderful flavor. Remove the rinds before serving the soup.

• If you prefer, you may add some canned tomatoes to the soup instead of the concentrated tomato paste in water. Run the tomatoes through a food mill fitted with a fine disc, or purée them in the food processor. Add, thinning with a bit of water if you like, and cook until reduced and very thick before proceeding with the recipe. For this size batch of soup, use anywhere from half to a full 14-oz. can of Italian plum tomatoes.

• To prepare a vegetarian soup, omit the pancetta and increase the olive oil to 3 to 4 T. Use water for the liquid.

• Some diced, peeled potatoes or cooked white beans (with their cooking liquid) may also be added to the soup. Add with the farro and kale.

• If semi-pearled (or pearled) farro is not available, you may use whole farro, but since it takes much longer to cook, it should be cooked separately and added to the soup when the kale is almost tender. 

Printable Recipe

Chicken Stock

Today's post will be a brief tutorial on making chicken stock in a home kitchen.  The picture below has nothing to do with chicken stock.  It's just that the process of making chicken stock doesn't make for very attractive pictures.  So I thought before I launched into today's post that I would share a picture I took a few mornings ago.  Winter can be a long and difficult season (even if you like the food)--its joys few and far between.  For me, one of the pleasures of this time of year is the early morning sky.  The muted colors of the pre-dawn sky, visible through the silhouettes of the barren trees, is a sight lovely enough to compensate for many of the more dreary aspects of this dark season.

Now, on to chicken stock... 

Whenever I buy chicken, I always try to purchase the whole bird rather than just the parts I might need for a specific dish. If you are not purchasing your chicken this way, you should consider it. It is not difficult to cut up a chicken. If you don't know how, I'm told that most grocery stores will do it for you if you ask them when you purchase a whole bird. But why not learn to do it yourself? (Perhaps this would be a good topic for a future post...) Parts not immediately needed can be individually wrapped and frozen—you will be laying in a supply of meat for future meals.

For me, the main benefit in purchasing whole birds is that it allows me to prepare my own chicken stock. Whenever I cut up a chicken, I place the carcass (cut into 2 or 3 chunks) into a freezer bag. I usually add the wings, or a portion of each of the wings, to the freezer bag as well. Wings have a lot of cartilage which contributes body to the stock. When my frozen stash of chicken bones and trimmings has reached about 4 pounds, I make a batch of stock.

Besides making the very best soup, homemade chicken stock is useful for so many different things. It adds body and depth to certain pasta sauces, and it provides a flavorful cooking medium for braised dishes or a unifying agent for moistening a vegetable medley. It can be used for grain pilafs, risotto or polenta. It is also a handy liquid for deglazing a pan in which you have browned a chicken breast, pork chop or steak—the deglazings then providing the foundation of a nice impromptu sauce. One of the many reasons that homemade chicken stock is good for all of these things is that it typically has no added salt. If you want to reduce it to concentrate the flavor, you don't need to worry that the resulting reduction will be too salty. Homemade chicken stock is also missing a whole host of additives that are found in commercial "broths"—it only contains the things you put into it.

So what should you put in a basic chicken stock? Not surprisingly, mostly chicken. Everything else that goes in is just a supporting player—present to round out and enhance the flavor of the chicken. You shouldn't discern the strong presence of carrots, celery or bay leaf, for example. Just remember when adding other ingredients, you aren't making vegetable or herb stock...you are making chicken stock.

The standard background ingredients added to chicken stock are onions, carrots and celery (called mirepoix). Garlic cloves, leeks (just the green, or the whole leek), parsley stems, thyme sprigs, bay leaf and black peppercorns are frequently added to the mix. But all of these have a much lesser role even than the standard mirepoix and should be used sparingly. You should not add old or decaying vegetables, or trimmings and peelings of vegetables that really belong in the compost pile. Just as your stock will taste of the good things you add to it, it will also taste of the bad things you add to it.

At the bottom of this post is the recipe that I give out in my classes, but I don't pull it out when I make stock—and you don't need to either. Making stock is easy. For a medium sized batch, choose a 6 to 8 quart stock pot and fill it about 3/4 full with the chicken carcasses.

Cover with cold water by an inch or two. Bring to a gentle simmer. Use a ladle to carefully skim away all of the foam that rises to the surface. Initially this foam will be an unappetizing brown or beige color. As the production of foam begins to dissipate, the foam will become paler and paler in color. The foam represents blood, fat and other impurities present in the carcasses. If not skimmed away, these impurities will boil back into the stock, making it cloudy and muddying the flavor.



the impurities begin to come to the surface




after a while, they are a lighter color



the bowl of skimmings--if you are tempted not to skim, think of this awful stuff being part of your stock...

While the chicken bones release their impurities, cut a peeled onion, a peeled carrot and a stalk or two of celery (ends trimmed) into largish chunks. When I make stock I strive for a mix of mirepoix that is half onion, a quarter carrot and a quarter celery.

If you do not have any celery, don't run out and buy it just for stock. Many chefs do not add it at all and it should be used sparingly—it has a very strong flavor and if too much is used you will be able to distinctly taste it in the finished stock. To this, add a smashed clove or two of garlic, a sprig or two of fresh thyme, a few peppercorns and a small bay leaf. Be careful with the bay. Like celery, it is strong and can be bitter. If necessary, break a larger leaf in half. If I have parsley or leeks on hand, I add some parsley stems and chopped leeks, or just a portion of the green of the leek.

When there is no longer any foam rising to the surface of the stock,

add the prepared vegetables, herbs and spices. If you have removed a lot of the water while skimming away the foam, add some boiling water to restore the level of liquid in the pot. Return the contents of the pot to a simmer. The vegetables will initially produce foam as they give off their impurities. This too should be skimmed away.

The stock should be cooked at a very gentle simmer—just one or two bubbles, regularly punctuating the surface of the stock is sufficient. If simmered or boiled hard, any fat given off by the chicken will be emulsified back into the stock. Hard simmering will also pound up the vegetables and any meat remaining on the bones into little bits that will cloud the stock. As the stock simmers, keep an eye on it. Occasionally skim away any more foam and any apparent fat. If you are not simmering the stock too hard, don't worry about skimming away all of the fat now, it is easily dealt with when the stock is cold.

How long you simmer the stock is up to you. Chefs are all over the map on this, but I think the general consensus is somewhere in the 2 to 4 hour range. I usually shoot for about 3 hours. This produces a nice flavorful, lightly gelatinous stock.

When the stock is done, carefully pour it through a large, fine meshed strainer into a clean container. If you don't have a large enough strainer, pour the stock first through a colander and after discarding the contents of the colander, strain the stock again through a fine meshed sieve. Whichever way you do it, make sure that you allow the bones and vegetables to drain thoroughly—you shouldn't press on the solids because they will disintegrate or turn to mush and cloud up the stock—but you can jiggle the sieve or colander a bit to make sure there aren't any pockets of trapped stock.

Cool the stock as quickly as possible. It is worth taking the trouble to fill up a sink with ice water to make an ice bath. Setting the container of stock in this bath of icy water and stirring occasionally will help the stock to cool rapidly.

For food safety reasons, you should aim to get the stock cooled below 70° F within 2 hours—something easily within reach if you use an ice bath.

after about 35 minutes in the ice bath

After the stock is as cool as my ice bath will get it, I like to transfer it to the refrigerator where it will continue to cool and where any fat in the stock will rise to the surface and solidify. The next day, this fat is easily lifted away and discarded. At that point you will have a virtually fat free stock.

Package and freeze your stock in containers appropriate for your kitchen. If you tend to use 1/2 cup portions of stock, then freeze it in half cup containers. Some people might only use their stock in large quantities and might want to freeze it in pint- or quart-sized batches. In my home kitchen, it works best to freeze the stock in one cup portions. I use zip lock sandwich bags, pressing out as much air as possible before sealing.  I then lay the bags flat in a half-sheet pan (rimmed baking sheet) to freeze.

When you thaw the stock, bring it to a full rolling boil before using. Once you begin to make and freeze your own stock, you will wonder what you ever did without it.
 
 

Basic Chicken Stock

4 lbs. chicken bones or legs, wings and backs
1 onion, peeled and quartered
1 carrot, peeled and cut into chunks
1 or 2 stalks celery, cut into chunks
1 clove of garlic, smashed
1 bay leaf
4-5 peppercorns
3-4 sprigs of thyme

Rinse the bones or chicken pieces well. Remove any large pieces of fat. Place the chicken in a large pot and add just enough cold water to cover the chicken by an inch or 2. Over medium high heat, bring the water to a simmer, reduce the heat so that the stock is just bubbling gently. Skim the foam and fat that come to the surface, and discard. Add the vegetables and aromatics. Continue to simmer and skim for another 3 or 4 hours. Add hot water as necessary to keep the chicken and vegetables covered.

Strain the finished stock. It will keep in the refrigerator for 4 or 5 days and will keep frozen for about 4 months—boil for a few minutes before using. Makes 3 1/2 to 4 quarts stock.