Miss Food Snob

I have a confession to make. I am a lazy cook. You never could tell from the name of this blog, but it’s true. This isn’t to say that my mantra for life is “I don’t feel like cooking tonight, let’s order pizza.” Trust me, I’m a starving artist (aka: writer), lazy nights of fast food don’t happen around here, and I’m personally not much of a fan anyway.

But I am a lazy cook. I am also a food snob. I don’t see why I should cough up good money for something I can make for myself (for next to nothing) that will taste better anyway. Soup stocks fall under this category for me anyway. I don’t keep cans or cardboard cartons of the stuff in the house. Rather, I make my own, freeze it and grab as needed.

Now before you browse on to other food blogs, allow me to remind you, I started off with the claim that I am lazy. I would rather be reading, writing or possibly clipping my pug’s nails than babysitting a simmering pot of stock. Yes, I know in high scale restaurants, you simmer it slowly, skimming the scum off and keeping it at a gentle bubble blah blah blah. And if dancing attendance on stock is your thing, more power to you. For me, I have the home cook’s solution to great soup with minimal money or effort.

Start with your crockpot. If you don’t have one, you should. You can get a serviceable slow cooker for around $19. When you compare that to dropping $3 to $4 a pop for the stuff sold in the store, my method will pay off for you in five to six batches of stock.

Next, grab the chicken carcass from Sunday dinner. Or the rotisserie chicken you bought from the grocery store on the way home to work. Whatever you have on hand. Point is, get the meat off the bird and keep the carcass. If you bought a whole bird, keep the neck and giblets. Into the pot goes the chicken bones and spare parts you found crammed inside when you bought it.

Then, reach into your fridge’s vegetable drawer. You’ve got carrots and celery running around in there that you’ve forgotten about, right? They’re pretty limp and embarrassing to show people. Yeah, those, that’s right, grab them. Toss a few of them into the pot with the chicken. Couple of carrots, couple of celery stalks, and you’re gold. These veggies aren’t necessary, but they do add a beautiful color and rich flavor to the stock. And admit it, you were going to trash them anyway. While you’re at it, if you have a stray onion running around, toss that in too. Just cut it into quarters and into the pot it goes. Don’t bother taking the skin off. It adds more color to the stock too.

Cover the contents of your crockpot with water. Tap water is fine, we’re food snobs here, not elitists. Put the lid on, and turn the setting to low. If yours is programmable, set it for the longest setting possible. If it’s not, leave it to simmer on its own overnight, while you’re at work, or 12 hours. When you’re done sleeping/working/ playing/cleaning/dog nail trimming/gaming you’ll find your house smells a bit funny, but your crockpot has worked its magic and produced this magical elixir of yumminess that just made your dinner prep easier.

The easiest way to store it is to strain out the solids, then freeze the liquid in Ziplock bags. For the easiest freezer storage and the fastest defrosting, lay the bags flat in the freezer. Once they’re hard, they can be stacked, or lined up upright. When defrosting, make sure to leave the bag on a plate or some other container. Sometimes the bumping and shuffling of freezer contents will put a gouge in the bag, causing the liquid to leak.

Bon appetite!

When I was little, my Granny still had (and used) an old-fashioned wood burning stove to cook with. She had one of the modern varieties too, but I was always impressed with the idea of loading in wood to cook. My awe tripled the day I scuttled into her house and saw the top of the wood-burner adorned with a row of loaves of bread. Not the stuff in plastic sleeves, but genuine fresh baked bread. After being told to “Get in there and cut yourself a piece if you want some,” I did just that and encountered the most amazing bread I have ever tasted in my life. It was light and fluffy and slightly sweet, the tops were flaky and not that icky stuff that ruined a good slice of sandwich bread. I think that moment may have launched my fascination with cooking. Who knew you could make something so amazing for yourself?

I’ve spent years trying to figure out that recipe. I knew she fed it with “sugar and potato flakes”, but beyond that, I never could be bothered to ask more. Too wrapped up in my own life, I kept vowing I’d ask her for that recipe someday. It’s one of my greatest regrets that I kept putting off asking her until it was too late. So I’ve found myself stuck trying to muddle it out on my own, getting everything from hard rocks of bread to the tartest sourdough you could possibly imagine.

Until last week. I finally mastered the recipe, I think. I had three loaves of soft, melt-in-your-mouth bread with just a hint of sweetness and light, buttery, flaky crusts that threw me back into Granny’s kitchen. I was a little girl in awe again. Every time I make this bread, I’ll think of her, and keep the memory alive. I think she’d like that.

Don’t let the wait times or list of ingredients throw you. It’s really not nearly as complex as it looks, and I wonder how I managed to botch it for so very long.

Sourdough Starter: Mix 3 T. dry yeast (or 3 packages) with 1 cup warm water. Cover and allow to rest in the fridge for 2-5 days. Feed every 3 to 5 days. Five days seems to work best for me.

Sourdough Feed: Mix 1 cup warm water with 3/4 cup sugar and 3 T. potato flakes. Once combined, add to starter. Cover loosely so gasses can escape and set in a warm place to rest for 8-12 hours.  Personally, I find it easiest to do this first thing in the morning the day before I’m going to bake.

Sourdough Bread:

This is where wait times can be intimidating again. Don’t be scared. If you followed my advice about feeding the starter in the morning, this couldn’t be easier. You’re going to mix your dough up and leave it to rise, then go to bed. Nothing could be easier!

• 6 c. flour (preferrably bread flour)
• 1 c. fed sourdough starter (return the rest to the fridge)
• 4 T. sugar
• 1/2 c. oil (I prefer olive or canola)
• 1 tsp. salt
• 1 1/2 c. warm water

Mix all ingredients together. Do not overmix, it makes for tough, nasty bread. The dough will be fairly wet compared to other recipes you might be used to. Turn into a greased bowl, then flip, to make sure all the dough has a light covering to prevent it drying out and sticking. Cover lightly either with waxed paper or parchment paper. You could use a clean cloth towel for this, if you don’t mind a little dough sticking. Put the dough somewhere warm. LEAVE IT ALONE OVERNIGHT. Don’t poke it, prod it, or disturb it. Just go to bed, enjoy some sweet slumber and go back to it in the morning.

In the morning, flip the raised dough onto a lightly floured surface. Using a sharp knife, divide the dough into thirds. Knead each loaf 8-10 times or until the dough is elastic. It happens quickly, so don’t over-knead. Place dough into three greased loaf pans. Cover and let rise in a warm place for 4-5 hours.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Bake bread for 30 to 35 minutes or until the crusts are a light golden color. Brush with a little melted butter if you like. (I certainly do!) Then take the loaves out and let them cool on a wire rack. If you don’t have a wire rack, still get them out of the pans and let them cool on a non-stick surface. Leaving them in the pans will make for soggy bread.

Enjoy these bundles of Heaven for the mouth. I don’t think they need a blessed thing on them to taste amazing, but a dab of creamy butter, some of my aunt’s honey, or apple butter are favorites in this house.