One Meal Becomes Two... Part Two: Stock

So...in our last installment, the rice became rice pudding.  Now?  The chicken must become Chicken and Dumplings of course.  This recipe is not hard but there are a lot of moving parts, so I have broken it down into two segments to hopefully minimize the confusion.  What do you make first?  Why, the chicken stock of course...which is a very versatile component that gets quite a lot of mileage in our house.  Typically after Thanksgiving I gather all the bones and spend a lazy Sunday making stock which will get frozen for use throughout the year.  I always quietly hope my stash lasts till the following Thanksgiving...it never does.  I love my stock.  

Another reason why I chose to isolate this portion of the recipe is because of the aforementioned versatility.  There will be recipes to come that will call for stock in large or small quantities, or places where I suggest swapping water for stock to get more flavor out of an otherwise bland element.  Rather than repeat the recipe again, or have you schlog through the Chix and Dump recipe to fish out the stock directions, I have decided to let it be its own thing.  Hopefully, though, once you've made it you will never have to look at the recipe again.  It's not rocket science, but it is delicious.

Here we will be using the remnants of 'last night's' chicken to brew up this particular pot of liquid wonderful.  First thing first, strip that bad boy of all usable meat and set aside.  If you are terribly efficient you can chop the meat in preparation for the eventual dumlinging, but I don't really do efficient.  Everything else will be detailed under the heading.

And One Meal Becomes Two...

I started meal planning a couple of years ago to prevent the age old grocery store problem.  You all know what I'm talking about...the "I spent $100 at the grocery store and have nothing to eat."  I was guilty of buying one full meal, and the rest?  Ghosts of meals that should have been.  I was also working part time and just thought it would make my life easier, not having to think about what was going onto my table when I got home... annnnd it gave me less of an excuse to impulse buy McDonalds.

It was around this time that I embraced the philosophy of...the two-fer; one meal that instantly lends itself to two.  So...baking a chicken?  Great, open a few cans the next day and you've got White Bean Chicken Chili.  And it is -almost- like you cooked two days in a row...which in my house makes it somewhat excusable when there is Hamburger Helper in Dad's lunch pail the next day.  Somewhat.  It is borderline....very borderline.

Sh#t My Dad Owns: The Mandoline

So...my new obsession is pickling.  I could lie and say that it is because the bounty of fruit at the Farmers Market is waning with the approaching cold, but in truth?  Much like birthing children, I am just sick to death of making jam; the late nights, the weight gain (this part is mostly imaginary...mostly), and everything being sticky.   The last part I will probably not get much relief on because I have a preschooler and a toddler in my house and...*sigh* they are just...always sticky or wet, then they just...touch my stuff.  Children are gross, but I digress.  Also much like giving birth, my biological clock will fool me into forgetting all the uncomfortable bits, and come Spring I will be rejoicing in the berry harvest. 

The remaining months of the Farmers Market, however, will be devoted to pickles (till I get tired and do something else...I'll keep you posted).  This Saturday I pickled up a few bundles of dirty, but otherwise noble looking carrots which were immediately earmarked for some sort of sweet, tangy, ginger pickle.  Almost immediately after I had that thought, my mind wandered toward my father's arsenal of kitchen crap.  Of course...OF COURSE he would have something that was going to make my prep a breeze...I just knew it.  I was right...my father owns a Mandoline...which I borrowed upon my most recent visit (after returning the swanky slap chop).  Unlike the slap chop, however, the Mandoline is a little bit of holycrapawesome and actually used by people who know what the hell they are doing in the kitchen.  Here, take a look...

Your veggies slide right into the waiting, adjustable blade.

Yeah, sweet right?  And it worked.  Here is a little detail I bet you did not know...it also works on HUMAN FLESH.  However, it only does that if you are too dumb to remember the piece that protects your hand from the blade and just...you know...use it anyway...with your kids in the kitchen...close to bedtime.  I think I traumatized my four year old by nearly hacking off the tip of my middle finger while nagging her about...oh...it could have been so many things.  So many...many things.  I ended up doing a little surgery with the baby's nail clippers, wrapping the whole disaster in a Buzz Lightyear band-aide, and wondering for just a moment where my dignity had gone.  Fortunately, and I am sure this is the burning question on all your minds, there are no finger shavings in the carrots...which turned out beautifully.

The Mandoline is Win...neatly sliced, super sharp Win.

Yucky Stuff or Green Sauce Used Three Ways

I have this thing about fresh herbs, and basil is one of my favs.  While it does not give me quite the same culogasm that cilantro does (I *love* cilantro, just thinking about it gives me goosebumps) I still find basil to be quite the irresistibly fragrant little minx.  And so?  If I am at the Farmers Market and it looks good, I tend to buy it, often with no real purpose in mind.  But then...since when do you need a purpose to buy fresh herbs right?  You -find- a purpose, right? Wrong.  When you have children, and an obsessive commitment to canning, things get lost in the shuffle. 

Such was the case last week, I bought two large bundles of deliciously scented basil with high aspirations, and what I ended up with was a bag of swiftly wilting leaves.  Wilting leaves and deep feelings of regret.  I was not just going to let these lovely darlings go quietly into that good night, though, I had to save them.  I -had- to.  And so?  I created what my daughter would eventually dub 'Yucky Stuff' (She never actually tasted it, just made a snap judgment, and that became the gospel according to Mini-Me.  Nothing to be done but accept it...yeah, the inmates TOTALLY run the asylum around here.)  However, contrary to the opinion of our resident preschooler, my Basil Rescue Sauce was actually quite tasty...and quite useful.