My first batch of stock since 1991

In my Joy of Cooking phase — this was before I got interested in Indian and other Asian cuisines, and when I was young enough to not think twice before dousing at least one dish in every meal with a cup of heavy cream — I was in the habit of cooking up big batches of stock.  I was living in Germany then, a first lieutenant with quite a lot of disposable income and no family to spend it on, so I'm sure I was finishing off these batches of stock with wines that I couldn't even BEGIN to afford to drink now.  <sigh>  Oh, to be young and have more money than I know what to do with.

Actually, I was more or less miserable back then, having ROTC-ed myself into a 4-year stint in the Army — can you imagine any worse fit between person and career field?  The Army couldn't either.  In those pre-Don'-t-Ask-Don't-Tell days, I was asked.  Twice.  (Anticipating the coming policy, I chose NOT to tell.  I'm precocious that way.)  And was officially reprimanded once by my commander on the advice of HIS commander for. . .wait for it. . .wearing too much gel in my hair.  Bless their hearts; nothing in their military training had prepared them for dealing with an "alternative" soldier like me.

What I'm getting at is that I am at this current point in my life — middle 40's (OK, late middle) — happier than I've ever been.  Even if I have to shop from the wine remnants.  (Which is actually more fun, now that I think about it, with the added frisson of getting something luxurious for less than market price.)

One of the things making me happy today is this jar of homemade (wine-less) stock, made this morning mostly from items from my inaugural frozen stock-pile:

What will I become — soup? gravy? flavored rice?

This project really was too easy NOT to do on a regular basis.  And making stock is so much fun.  It's a little like alchemy; you're turning what could've been trash into a nourishing, delicious food.  One of the best things about making stock is that every batch is different.  I am a big advocate of variety for variety's sake, rarely making the same recipe twice without variation and always on the lookout for a new wine, restaurant, chocolate, or variety of lettuce.  Thus, my great affinity for stock.

Here's how I turned trash into treasure in under 3 hours on a Saturday morning before heading off to the gym:

Step 1: I dumped the contents of my frozen stock-pile into a big pot.  I didn't have that much accumulated, so I didn't have to drag out the huge stockpot from beneath the counter; I just used my regular 4-quart pot.

Step 2: I tossed in this single marrow bone.  It had been bought for the dogs — I'd asked the butcher to cut a bigger bone in half since my dogs are small, and he somehow thought I'd want just one of the halves.  I didn't notice this until getting home with my groceries.  2 dogs sharing 1 bone is not a pretty picture, so into the stockpot it went.  Sorry, Freddy & Willy!

Step 3: I added bits of this and that I found in the fridge, rescuing some things that would soon have been growing fuzz: some carrot, a few stalks of celery with the leaves, a half of a green pepper, a sweet potato that had gone soft in places (these spots cut out), and a tiny striped Chiogga beet.

Step 4: I added these herbs and other flavoring ingredients to the pot: some fresh thyme, a couple of bay leaves, some coarsely chopped-up garlic cloves, a handful of raisins, and some peppercorns and cloves.

Step 5: I added filtered water to cover the ingredients and tossed in a little Himalayan pink salt (the gorgeous color of which did not reproduce well in this picture).  Then I turned the flame on high and brought the pot to a boil.

It occurred to me while the pot was coming to a boil that I had some greens, the stems of which could go into the stock, so I chopped these up and added them (red kale and mustard greens).  Take note of my ergonomic, angled-handle chef's knife — it's puts much less strain on the wrist of the chopping hand.  

Once the pot was boiling, I turned it down to simmer and partially covered the pot with its lid, to allow the steam to escape and the stock to cook down.  I let it cook this way for about 2 hours, then poured it through a strainer.  I mashed the ingredients in the strainer with a wooden spoon to extract as much liquid as possible before discarding the veggies and the bone.  You can also use cheesecloth to strain your stock, particularly if you want a very clear broth.

I'll let you know what becomes of Batch #1!  In the meantime, I'd love to hear from seasoned stock-cookers: What do you like to put into your stock?  Is there anything you tend to avoid putting in?  In what creative ways do you use the stock you've made?

[Note to readers: I have been setting down the step-by-step instructions for my recipes as captions to the photos, hoping that everyone is able to read them on their various browsers.  Please let me know if you are not able to see the pictures and/or captions on your computer.  Thank you.]