bouillon {tutorial}

 

I get asked a lot about making stocks. probs because I post a lot of pictures to the social medias like this:

with the caption “stock day!!!”

and this:

with the caption “stock day!!!”

and this:

with the caption “stock day!!!”

and many more, but I’m sure you get it.

stock days make me happy because my house smells so good and I’m making something delicious, but I actually mean that it’s bouillon day because I have zero space to store stock.

bouillon isn’t hard. it’s a bit time-consuming. most of it doesn’t require babysitting, and it’s so worth it because it costs nothing beyond time and energy, it tastes far better than anything you can buy at the store, you can use up stuff that would otherwise end up in landfill or compost, you have full control over what goes into it (*cough* sodium *cough*), and you can whip up a tastes-like-homemade (because IT IS) soup in half an hour when you have it on hand.

I shit you not, I made this in half an hour tonight (and I’ll teach you how another time):

it’s also handy for all kinds of other things (I’m lookin’ at you, risotto and stew and gravy and casseroles and…I’m lookin’ at a lot of you delicious things).

this is going to be way more a tutorial than a recipe because the whole shebang does require a certain amount of forethought, but there is a kind of proper recipe at the bottom and I won’t be offended should you like to skip (CTRL + F “seventh”) to that.

thing the first: the big bag o’ ingredients

I do not purchase ingredients to make my stock/bouillon. instead, I keep almost all that I might otherwise discard of the vegetables and fruits ends, tips, skins, and the rest that I use cooking other meals.

I like to use the great big brown bags from the LCBO (which may say a thing or six about my drinking habits) because, even though I make a stock at least once a month, those bags prevent things from getting all weird with ice crystals in between times.

when I’m making a meal, bringing out the bouillon bag is one of the first things I do. I put it beside where I’m chopping and toss in all of the bits as I go.

thing the second: what goes in the bag

as I said, almost everything goes in that bag and you can see as much from the pictures above.

reminder: they’re ALL SCRAPS. shit you would throw in the composter.

the major contenders are:

• parsley/cilantro – and any manner of herb leftovers (fresh dill, tarragon, basil, thyme, rosemary ends/stems), but parsley and cilantro are basically vegetables in our home, so they’re the mainstays
• tomatoes
• onions – I’ll talk more about those later
• carrots
• celery
• broccoli
• peppers
• mushrooms – those woody shiitake and oyster mushroom stems are amazing bouillon heavy-lifters
• citrus fruits – including peels. just juiced a lemon or a lime? toss the remnants in your bouillon bag
• ginger

thing the third: what DOES NOT go in the bag

there are some things that just don’t work. not many, but some and they mostly don’t work because they make things bitter. if you like bitter, then have at ’em.

the major contenders are:

• avocado bits
• eggplant bits
• unwashed potato bits – I don’t really like potato bits in mine anyway because they can muck things up with their starchiness, but unwashed bits make things dirty

if you know of others, please pass them along!

thing the fourth: dem bones

making stock/bouillon is a great way to make use of bones leftover from roasts and such.

DO make sure to store your bones in the freezer in a separate container from your regular stock bag of compostables. this way, you’ll avoid cross-contamination (especially if your compostable bag is in and out of the freezer for each meal like mine is) AND you have the option to make your bouillon meatless or meatful…or BOTH.

I put away most bones that come through the kitchen, but things like shrimp shells, fish and poultry skins, and pork and beef fat ends can also make their way into the pot. fish bones can be good, too, but be sure to have a really good strainer before considering them.

thing the fifth: flavour

the big thing I get asked is “how do you get it so flavourful”?

I said we’d talk about onions again and here we are.

onion skins give a broth fantastic flavour and colour. other alliums, like scallions, leeks, chives, and the rest help out, too, but you can’t do much better for flavour and colour than your average yellow cooking onion.

my bouillon bag consists of 40% onion skins because, yes, we do go through that many.

all of the “fresh” stuff is compost fodder, but I also use herbs and spices; bay leaves, cloves, nutmeg, black pepper, sage, and tarragon are my go-tos.

to the last bouillon I made, I added star anise, cumin, coriander, and bones leftover from a ham. it came out rather Phở-esque and lovely, but not necessarily the right thing for a classic chicken noodle soup. I do tend to stick to pretty “neutral” (westernly) flavours, but use your imagination and think about the dishes you’ll want to create with your bouillon when deciding on flavours.

I add about 2 teaspoons of salt to every stock because that’s what you do, but I have no scientific rationale for adding salt. I don’t think you need to. I just do it because tradition. I’ve made perfectly cromulent bouillons without it because I forgot to add it.

let’s not confuse with salt with flavour. salt is not flavour. suck it, salt.

thing the sixth: the tools

I maintain that it’s not worth it to make bouillon until that great big LCBO bag is full to bursting, so an 8 quart pot is my minimum. I swear by my trusty pasta pot that I picked up at a liquidation joint for about $17 a million years ago (ok, more like 16 years ago).  the kind with the strainer insert that looks a bit like this:

photo credit: Bed Bath & Beyond. click the pic to buy that beauty. I get no kick-backs. it’s just pretty.

…but, ya know, whole…and not $250. one does not require precision cookware to boil pasta or make bouillon.

you can make bouillon with a large pot and a decently-sized colander, too, but a pasta pot with a strainer is the perfect tool.

and a word about straining: I don’t feel the need to strain more than through the pasta strainer insert (or colander) unless I’m trying to for something super-fancy, which I am usually not. when I am, I usually make a much fancier stock. perhaps I’ll get into that in another post.

you’ll also need a goodly-sized vessel to strain your stock into (if you don’t have a pot with a strainer insert) and a wooden spoon.

thing the seventh: the nitty gritty

ok, here’s as close to a recipe as you’ll get from me for bouillon.

what you need:

• bones (or not – totes optional)
• enough compost tucked away in your handy-dandy bouillon bag to fill your pot (or strainer insert)
• water
• salt (or not)
• 2 tsp nutmeg
• 1 tsp cloves (you can use ground, but I prefer to just bruise whole cloves with the mortar and pestle)
• 1 tbsp ground black pepper
• 5 bay leaves

what you do:

1. if you’re using bones, place them in the bottom of your pot (or strainer insert) (I know in the pics my bones are sticking out – the only reason I mention this first is because I all too often run out of room for bones after I’ve added the compost and I have to awkwardly shuffle things around and I’m trying to save you from my mistakes).
2. fill your pot (or strainer insert) with the contents of your bouillon bag.
3. fill the pot (with strainer insert) with water to 2 inches below the rim.
4. add the remaining ingredients.
5. bring to a boil over high heat.
6. reduce to medium heat.
7. use a wooden spoon to push any ingredients not covered by water into the water. if they don’t all get in, don’t worry about it.
8. check on it periodically to give it a stir and add enough water to bring the liquid levels back up to keep the contents just covered.
9. repeat until it has simmered for at least 2 hours for a plants-only stock and 3-5 for one with bones.
10. strain.
11. rinse the pot and return the strained liquid (without the strainer, if you’re using one) to it.

:::choose your own adventure time:::

13. at this point, you have three choices:
14. YOU CAN call it a day and call this a stock.
15. OR YOU CAN let the stock cool if you’ve used any meat products in it and you don’t want the fat it brings to the party. in this case, you’ll want to toss the pot into the fridge for a few hours (overnight is awesome because then you’re sleeping and not thinking about delicious bouillon), skim and discard the fat that has risen and cry a little, and then move onto the next option.
16. OR YOU CAN boil that shit down! I almost always opt for this because I have the patience of a puppy on speed and enjoy that lip-smacking fattiness. also, fat becomes a different thing in a bouillon than in a straight-up stock. it gets kinda magical. definitely use this option if working with a plant only stock…because no fat…so…yeah…move on to step the next.
17. over high heat, bring the stock to a boil, stirring regularly, until it’s reduced…well…to a bouillon. BE CAREFUL NOT TO BURN IT. you can tell it’s done when it coats the back of a metal spoon like maple syrup does. you’ll likely have no more than 3/4 to a cup of bouillon…possibly less.
18. remove from heat and chill until cold and kinda jelly-like.
19. cut into bouillon-like squares or just spoon it into a container (I find those little ricotta cheese containers to be just the right size).
20. toss it in the fridge for up to one month or into the freezer forever (except not because I’m sure you’ll use it all within a week).
21. use 1-2 tsp of bouillon per cup of water/liquid (it really kind of depends on what you’re making) to go forth and make great things with it!

 

 

geeky gadget lust

Oh my but I do need one of these. You can buy me one here.

Pasta 101

If you’re as much of a pasta fiend as I am (and I know you are) then you’ve probably discovered the merits of fresh pasta over the dried stuff we can buy in cello bags at any grocer’s. Not that there’s anything wrong with the dried stuff; it’s easy, convenient and generally pretty tasty stuff…but it just doesn’t compare to the fresh stuff. Making pasta isn’t difficult but I won’t lie; it is time-consuming. I wish I was as quick with the stuff as Zia Louisa who thought nothing of whipping up a batch for unexpected guests…but I’m not, so it becomes a bit of a project…but oh-so-worthwhile.

What you need for four good-sized servings:

1 cup all purpose flour

2/3 cup fine durum semolina (we’ve talked about this stuff before)

2 eggs

1 tbsp. olive oil

1 tsp salt

2-3 tbsp. warm water

Take all of the dry ingredients and blend them in a large bowl.

Once blended the dry stuff needs to have a well made in the centre. I failed at getting a good pic of that but it’s basically like making a bowl within the bowl. Into that inner bowl the wet ingredients are put. Like so:

At this point the inner bowl is folder over onto the wet ingredients.

I’m a big fan of the wooden spoon for that part. It can be done with the hands, but hands aren’t quite as good at getting underneath everything and pulling the stuff from the bottom up to the top. Once the wet ingredients are completely covered in the dry it’s time to stir…and stir and stir and stir until the contents of the bowl look like this:

Now it’s time to get the hands in there. And it’s important to use hands now because they will be the gauge for how moist the dough is. If it’s not sticking together then we’ll want to add more water, 1 tablespoon at a time, until it does. If it’s too sticky then we’ll want to add more flour, one tablespoon at a time. The result should be a wee bit sticky, leaving a thin film on the hand but firm too. When worked into a ball it should look a little like this:

Once it’s there, remove the ball from the bowl and work it into a rough log, then cut the log into 1 inch thick rounds.

Now the pasta is ready for rolling. I have a handy dandy pasta roller and cutter. It’s a dream.

And it’s pretty dirty so I shall sacrifice one of those 1 inch rounds of dough to help get it clean. In pressing the dough and pulling it along the rollers and the cutters all of the grub gets pulled out without compromising the integrity of the machine. Washing it is pretty much out of the question as it may rust those moving bits which do all the dirty work. I always save the end pieces of my dough logs for this job; one for the beginning of the process and one to give it a go over at the end.

Once satisfied with the cleanliness of one’s machine, the pressing of the real stuff may begin. Before beginning that, it’s important to flour the surface the pasta will be spending time on in between pressings. Most pasta machines start with the thickest pressing at number 1 (as does mine) but whatever the number, we want the first pressing to be at the thickest the rollers will allow then get thinner incrementally with each pressing.

Here’s the dough after the first press:

The end product should determine how thin the dough gets pressed but it’s important to get it thinner incrementally or the dough will tear. I usually cheat and go from 1 to 3 then up to 6 then 7 for things like ravioli or 9 (which is the thinnest setting on my machine) for things like spaghettini.

It’s best to move onto the cutting stage just before you’re ready to cook the pasta as this stuff doesn’t really store well (unless you’ve got a proper drying rack…which still doesn’t work for things like ravioli.) I swear by the biggest pot in the house for cooking pasta…doesn’t matter how much I’m cooking. The more space the noodles have to roll around in the boiling water the less chance they have of sticking together or requiring oil (we’ve talked about that before too) after they’re cooked. So I fill that big pot to within 2 inches of the top add a little salt and no pasta whatsoever until it’s at a rolling boil. But we’ll talk a bit more about that tomorrow.

my pizza stone

This is my pizza stone. There are many like it but this one is mine. My pizza stone is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my stone is useless. Without my stone I am useless. I must season my pizza stone true…

Okay, it’s a little grimey and gross looking right now (and I’m a total ass for making the sprog hold it before giving it a proper washing), but I wanted you to get a feel for just how much I put this poor thing through.

This is the brand new stone the stork brought us:

One day it may look just like its sister.

I’ve had my stone for almost 4 years now and it’s done well by me. I’ve subjected it to pretty much everything all the books tell us not to; direct heat, a lack of preheating, frozen foods, etc. and it remains my favourite kitchen tool ever. If you don’t have one, go get one. If you do have one, take it out and use it – I double dog dare you to get it looking like mine.