Tag Archives: California

On Stock

I’m writing this from beautiful long beach, CA. More on this later.

I wrote the [last recipe I posted here]( http://omnivorousfish.com/node/135) somewhat in haste, and I all but skipped over a topic that I feel is little understood, or at least improperly considered, in cooking: the place of stock.

As we go through our lives as cookbook readers, countless hours have been spent poring over the basic preparations in the backs of the cookbooks written by our favorite chefs and cookbook authors. Many of these sundry recipes- and often whole prose chapters- are dedicated to the topic of stock, its importance and, certainly, its preparation. Interestingly, the role of stock in the greater food consciousness is little discussed. I am here to tell you that homemade stock is not indispensable, or at least, one can still cook without it.

Cooks in restaurants need only go over to the kettle or walk-in to get white or brown stock. On television, a bubbling brew simmers in a shiny overpriced saucepan, ready to be put into service. Indeed, stock, *petits-fours* and *tournee* of vegetables are all well and good if one has a staff, especially a free or nearly free staff of externs, apprentices and dishwashers. Meanwhile, on earth, we all have lives.

I have a job. I’m very fortunate that I have a job that usually leaves me with four free weekdays to do with as I please, so it’s not uncommon that I spend at least one of those days in a complicated cooking preparation, and if that preparation involves meat, rest assured, there will be stock. After all, if the kitchen is already unfurled, what trouble is it to throw the detritus in a pot at the back of the stove? However, that doesn’t mean that I make stock to order. In fact, it often gets made during the course of a simpler preparation. That stock then goes in the freezer. Not in a block, mind you. I might put a cup or two at a time to freeze in small containers, but the majority of the stock I make ends up frozen in ice cube trays. Then I store the cubes in a plastic bag in the freezer, ready to use in increments of about 3 tablespoons. It’s a marvelous system.

Do I always have stock in the freezer? No. I get busy, you get busy, we all scream for ice cream. What, then, do you do when you have the need to cook, but the stock has run dry?

Well, the first answer to that question is, consider what you are making. Remember what is perhaps the oldest cooking truism: the quality of what you are making will be in proportion to the quality of the ingredients that you put into it. It may seem backwards to make this point first, but lest I be accused of heresy, I want to make this absolutely clear: if you are going to make *consomme madrilene* you absolutely must use a great stock. *Sauce Perigord* deserves the time and effort of *glace de viande* that you have fine tuned for your taste and your guests.

But what about a pan sauce? Maybe you’ve fried up some pork chops and apples for dinner and want to have a nice little brown elixir to moisten them, perhaps in the oven for a moment, or just on the plate? You look in the freezer and- forsooth- your scurrilous roommate has used the last of the veal stock. The first thing I would suggest is to look around. Maybe there is some leftover roast beef in the fridge with a ton of gravy on it, or turkey gravy, even. There’s a half empty bottle of wine over there that you weren’t crazy about, and, look, the string beans are ready to be drained of their green, vegetal cooking medium. Taste the water: it tastes like string beans. This is the larger point: you can deglaze the pan with water and have a decent sauce, but the more depth of flavor you put into your choice of liquid, the more depth of flavor your sauce will have. The following is from the ingredients list of a [post on risotto]( http://omnivorousfish.com/node/105):

>stock, water or other flavorful liquid (dried mushroom soaking liquid, cheese rinds (not wax ones) simmered in water for a half hour, half-strength bouillon from Knorr brand cubes, water from cooking vegetables, almost anything)

I don’t expect anyone to have all these things just lying around, but if you cook often, you’d be amazed how often one of these things, or something similar, is staring you in the face. How often have you barbecued steaks and had that big plate full of succulent juice leftover? (For me the answer is never, because I drink and/or sop up anything that’s left, but I’ve seen people throw it away. This is sacrilege.) Pasta water (that is to say the water from cooking pasta) should be bottled and sold.

My point is that anything that has flavor has value, and it is through the frugal conservation of flavor that everyday items can be imbued with uncommon tastiness with little or no effort on the cook’s part.

This brings me to my last and most controversial point: bouillon cubes. Stay with me for a second. I don’t recommend the idle use of bouillon made at the strength recommended on the package. What I do recommend is the judicious use of half or three-quarter strength high-quality condensed stock. I often have an open cube in the box that I might crumble a little corner off of to throw in a simmering pan sauce. Thick soups are done no harm by bouillon, and even if they don’t come to their full zenith as they might with a lovingly made stock, they will be better than they would if made with water.

The great Andre Soltner, in his book The Lutece Cookbook, recommends Knorr brand bouillon cubes by name. If they’re good enough for Andre, they’re good enough for me.

California Dreamin’

I spent some time in Northern California many years ago. I stayed in Walnut Creek and went to San Francisco a lot. I also did a bit of camping and experienced some of the natural wonder the area has to offer. Total, maybe I spent two weeks there. I stayed in Sacramento for a couple of months after that, and went to Berkeley and had a job interview in Emeryville. The job didn’t pan out. I closed my business and went on the road the following fall.

Naturally, I am now convinced that Northern California is heaven on earth and everything wrong in my life would be better if I lived there. I fantasize about farmers’ markets and chilly foggy evenings in late spring, wearing [cable-knit sweaters](http://www.benbellen.com.au/alpaca-sweaters/mens-alpaca-sweater.html) and growing my hair longer.

We ate at Tabla last night, but the truth is I have been staring at the screen for an hour, and just don’t feel like writing about it. It was ok. I wouldn’t go back. I liked the decor, and the service was what you would expect from Danny Meyer, but the food all tasted like cumin, and nothing on the menu jumped out at me.

Listening: Watching Law and Order reruns, never a good sign.

Long Beach Farmers’ Market

Cacti and LemonsCacti and Lemons

The [Long Beach Farmers’ Market](http://www.harborareafarmersmarkets.org/) is a perfect example of how you can vote with your dollars. It’s not in downtown LA, it’s in the middle of comparatively sleepy Long Beach, centrally located (which in California means a short drive) and teeming with local produce. I talked to farmers from Lancaster (95 miles), Fresno (240 miles) and some other places I can’t recall just now. Some were organic, some weren’t but they all were happy to talk to me about how they farm, even if in halting English. A cursory examination of prices puts most of the produce available on par with or cheaper than area markets, and if you factor in quality, forget about it.
Long Beach TomatoesLong Beach Tomatoes

There were several kinds of tomatoes, but the stands weren’t overrun with expensive (and pretentious) heirloom varieties. Mostly red cluster varieties, there were a few yellow and orange cherry-types. Piles of cactus and pasillo peppers (that is to say poblanos, not pasillas) flanked more familiar chard, beans, carrots, turnips, squashes and watercress. The obligatory Hass avocado, too, was abundant, its somber color offset by baskets of fresh cayenne and bird chilies.
AvocadosAvocados

Too late for them in New York, I took advantage of some unbelievably flawless Italian eggplants (with hardly a seed in them). Enormous, healthy, tight-skinned onions piled high at several stands, competing for attention with heaps of white and red persimmons and crimson pomegranates, stacked up two and three feet high. I also encountered four or five varieties of cilantro, but strangely only one of mint (spearmint, my least favorite), plus a host of local things I didn’t recognize and, unfortunately, didn’t have time to stop and talk about.
Long Beach Cherry TomatoesLong Beach Cherry Tomatoes

I love learning new things about food, especially about foods I think I am familiar with. Nuts, often, get taken for granted as a barely perishable commodity, stored nearly indefinitely in the freezer. In New York, certainly, I buy them in the grocery store, since nuts make rare appearances at the greenmarket. They have always seemed more like flour or sugar than like peaches or onions. At this market, there were at least two farmers selling only nuts, the boastful Peanut Man (who, to be fair, sold real nuts, too) and the farmer from Lancaster, who was only too happy to help us choose from among his almonds, pecans, walnuts, peanuts and macadamias (California having recently begun giving Hawaii and Brazil a run for their money). He also had black mission and calimyrna figs, dried, but recently dried, and bursting with moist, figgy-raisiny goodness.

So what lesson did I learn? Just like any other seed pod, nuts are better when fresh, too. Snacking on some fresh-from-the-tree almonds, we were amazed when, after about 20 seconds of chewing, our mouths lit up with the Technicolor taste of almond. The almond of almond extract and almond cookies and almond ice cream, a taste delivered to us mostly through unnatural flavorings, turns out to be as real and as vibrant as a kick in the nuts.

Did I mention that I missed peaches? I [went away](http://omnivorousfish.com/node/14) before they came, and got back after they were already gone. The season in California, clearly, is a bit longer for peaches, especially Last Chance peaches, a variety, not an admonition. Last Chance have an excellent smell, tender flesh and clean taste, although they don’t have the peach-orgasm intensity of flavor one expects of the earlier varieties.

**Caramel-Baked Peaches**
Serves 4

Pie is too hard. I don’t have time. I don’t have the trick with dough. Whatever. They’re all excuses. The only excuse I’ll accept is “I ran out of flour.” Then you merely bake your fruit by itself.

I love baked fruit. I love apples and Bartlett pears baked with streusel, or just by themselves. Peaches lend themselves to caramel (and almonds) but it could easily be any combination of apples, pears, peaches, apricots or nectarines, with or without the sugar, keeping in mind that the softer fruits (and the sugar, for that matter) will cook much faster than apples or pears.

½ cup sliced almonds
6 peaches
pinch of salt
1 cup brown sugar

Toast the almonds in a heavy dry skillet over medium-high heat or on a baking sheet in a 350 degree oven, stirring often, until lightly browned and fragrant.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Split the peaches in half and remove the stone (you may peel them, but I prefer them unpeeled, I hardly ever peel fruit). Cut each half into 3 to 5 slices, depending on size and preference. Arrange in an enamelware or glass baking dish and sprinkle with salt and brown sugar, coating peaches thoroughly. Arrange almonds on top. Bake for 12-17 minutes, until caramel is mahogany-colored and peaches are very soft, but still intact. Cool slightly and serve.

California: The Pictures

Just a taste:

Tom and Michael's HouseTom and Michael’s House

Bella IsabellaBella Isabella

Naples CanalsNaples Canals

The CabinThe Cabin