I hate waste. Absolutely loathe it, in all its forms. But most particularly do I hate it in the kitchen. Food is one of the most enchanting aspects of having a human body, and to see it, and water, wasted and ruined, is for me one of the biggest tortures of modern life.
The way we treat meat especially is horrific. And I’m not talking about meat eaters in general, I’m talking about the kind of waste that ignores the value of what’s in front of us. Vegetarians are guilty of this too, I’m afraid. And vegans. To eat as a way of being able to feel superior to others is a form of emotional waste I don’t hold with. Eating should be a joy; a shared joy most of all. If someone doesn’t want to eat meat, and I am the cook, I cook to provide them with their particular joy. Health is joy. Different bodies have different needs to maintain health. There is no legislating that out of existence. As an ominvore married to a vegetarian, I can attest different folk need different forms of nourishment. We have to be sensitive to that. From that sensitivity comes a compatible sensitivity to all sorts of good things. Sensitivity to a need for love. Sensitivity to a need for respect. A general sensitivity to what it means to be human.
While much that is human can be mourned, nothing human is foreign. Or shouldn’t be. Not if we are to be fully human ourselves.
All this to talk about bone broth. Forgive me. But that kind of sensitivity, and a hatred of wasting anything good for us as a part of the natural world, are two things I think of when I think of bone broth.
The Vegetarian Husband is away for a week, and I, as usual, have found treasures in the marked down meat section of my markets. Mind you, I only look at the organic and non-animal-torture meats there, since I’ve found both of those more compatible with my own physical and mental health. They’re more expensive than the meat that comes from torture factories, but you can tell why when you eat them. Food becomes a part of your body. Nothing that lives doesn’t feed on something else that lives. But we can choose which things to welcome into our own selves.
Back to bone broth. This week, I found a package of organic chicken drumsticks marked down. I feed our dogs a dog stodge I make up of equal parts meat/veggie trimmings/oatmeal, and those drumsticks are presently at $2 a pound cheaper than the cheapest raw dogfood meat I can find. Also they have those bones. I eye them, knowing I can poach them to get the skin and meat for the dogs’ food, and keep the broth for a bone broth base for myself.
That’s what I’ll do. I’ll freeze the cooked meat against the next time I make dog stodge. In the meantime, I can make that chicken broth even tastier, for a pot au feu for one to be made with a marked down organic beef shank from a local ranch.
In my freezer is a collection of bones from various carnivorous meals: short rib bones. Chicken wing bones. I’ll put the (rather pallid now) chicken drumstick broth on to heat and add those. I’ll add a half onion I have saved in the fridge. I’ll add a scrubbed celery top. A scrubbed carrot. A few loose unpeeled small garlic cloves. (I save those since I hate peeling the fiddly things). A frond of parsley. A couple of peppercorns. A bay leaf.
I’ll bring the whole lot to a boil, and then a simmer. On the woodstove, if it’s going anyway, to save fuel. Until it smells delicious.
Then I’ll strain it. Throw out the bones (never give cooked bones to your dogs). I’ll shred the carrot and the celery and throw them into the dogs’ food (never give onions or garlic to your dogs except in minute quantities).
The day before I want to eat a pot au feu for one, I’ll bring the whole lot to a simmer in a pot just big enough to hold the beef shank. When it’s simmering, I’ll add the beef. Simmer it until tender—who knows how long that will take? 1 hour? 2 hours? Depends on how the beef was raised and hung. How big the piece of it is. That’s why I’m doing it the day before. That, and because it will taste so much better reheated the next day.
The next day, I’ll think about vegetables. I’ll probably add a few carrot and celery sticks to the broth, and simmer the whole thing until they are tender and done.
I’ll pour a glass of good red wine.
On a shallow, wide soup plate, I’ll put slices of the beef with the carrots and the celery. Broth spooned over to moisten the lot. A small dish of Dijon mustard and cornichons pickles on the side. A piece of toasted sourdough rubbed with garlic.
I’ll sit down to a solitary dinner, red wine in hand. Thank the animal that gave me the beef, and the garden that gave me the vegetables and the trimmings. And have joy.
Hoping you, whatever you eat, have the same.
Bon appetit.
[POSTSCRIPT: I did indeed make this dish, and it was indeed delicious. Next day, I added some udon noodles and a couple of handfuls of fresh organic spinach, simmered, and ate as beef noodle soup for lunch. Yum.]