My House Kinda Stinks

Help Support Brothers of Briar:

RSteve

Well-known member
Joined
Feb 9, 2008
Messages
935
Reaction score
182
I always keep a supply of home made chicken stock in my freezer. I often buy chicken thighs, on sale, and they usually have a lot of excess skin, etc. I trim the thighs and retain most of what folks, with good sense, would throw away. I freeze the remnants until I have a few pounds. I defrost them, put them in my 18 quart Nesco roaster, then add onions, carrots, celery, garlic and mixed pickling spices. I cover with enough water to cover everything. Last night everything went into the roaster along with all the raw trimmings from the turkey I cut up before Thanksgiving. It all slow cooked for about 14 hours. Some would say the house smells wonderful. I think it's kind of stinky.
Earlier today, I fished most of the solids out of the roaster, then ran the remainder through a double layer of mesh strainers. After that straining, I strained the stock through four layers of cheese cloth. Then I washed out the roaster, added the strained stock, and tasted for the first time. Gradually, tasting after each addition, I added salt. It's all now in jars in the freezer. Learning from past experience, I leave room for expansion in every jar.

I should add that I use the trimmed thighs as one would prepare chicken wings, spicy with a commercial General Tsao's wing sauce added as a final glaze. For 89 cents lb. it's an enjoyable protein.
 

Brunello

Well-known member
Joined
Jan 1, 2020
Messages
605
Reaction score
148
Jeez Steve, you don't ever do anything the easy way do you? Between cleaning my pipes, making a good cup of coffee and walking the dog, that's about it for my daily duties! I'm tired just reading about your project. :oops:
 

RSteve

Well-known member
Joined
Feb 9, 2008
Messages
935
Reaction score
182
And tomorrow I have the 6-year-old and 17-month-old granddaughters from 7:30 a.m. until their parents arrive at about 5:00 pm with my 4.5-year-old grandson and have dinner with me, which I'm beginning to prepare this evening.
I never have had an expectation of easy in my life. I expect that even when they lower me into my grave, it won't be easy for someone.
Another day, another time, I'll relate the tale of digging a grave with a pick and shovel to bury my late wife's reclusive bachelor uncle. At 58, he'd apparently died in his sleep and was only discovered because his cat loudly howled non-stop and the neighbors in his apartment building called the police. The unionized grave diggers were on strike, plus his pre-paid grave site was directly adjacent to a fairly recent grave and the cemetery feared that any machinery use would collapse the other grave into "Uncle Gene's".My wife was beside herself. "He died alone, may have laid in his bed decomposing for over a week, now is on a slab at the city morgue, and they're saying it may be another week or longer before he can be buried. What can we do?"
I took the easy path to peace in my home. "Call a funeral home, I'll dig the grave myself." It wasn't easy.
 
Top