Friday, February 18, 2011

The wages of spatchcocking

is chicken stock.

I saved up the backbones and all the rest for several fowls I have eviscerated (even have a scissors for it now) and spent some of yesterday and today cooking them up: water, black peppercorns, garlic, thyme, carrots, onions, celery. Separated out the meat and bones, the veggies, the broth. Then removed most of the fat from the refrigerated broth, froze half the stock and fat and remixed the rest all together. Nice. Smells great. Dinner tonight with Thom.


Lunch today was leftover boeuf Bourguignon (beef stew with pretensions) from dinner last night (the mussels appetizer was outstanding) at Liverpool Lil's. Nice dinner, very nice evening.

Even though The West is declining, Barry Hussein O is in the White House and my life is at low tide, good food is one of life's reliable sources of pleasure. 

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Another reliable source of pleasure, for me anyway, is reading your beautiful blog.
And also finding excuses to say the word, "Spatchcock."

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