This afternoon I’m filling the house again with the aroma of Christmas goose, as I boil down the carcasses for stock. One bird is already done and cooling so I can pick over the bones for whatever scraps are left (more meat gravy, anyone?), and the second is waiting to have its back stripped before it goes into the stock pot with a mirepoix au maigre, ’cos by the time I’m done it’s gonna be a mirepoix au gras. Making stock also gave me an excuse to get out my big Chinese meat cleaver, which I use maybe a couple of times a year, to break up the carcasses into pieces small enough to go into the stock pot (rough quartering does it).
And every fnord she made was, of course, analyzed.
