I love nothing more than the good hubble bubble of making stock.
As I drop in my chicken carcasses and twigs of this and that herb I wonder whether I was a witch in a previous life. It is so comforting to fill the kitchen with steam and promising aromas.
This thought gets me wondering about the killing off of witches in the Middle Ages. Was this really the wiping out of a whole generation of women who understood how to build flavor?
British cooking, in particular, has taken centuries to recover the notion of any flavour in cooking.
It soothes me to make organic stock and store it away. It is wonderful to know that the flavour I am adding to my soups, stews and curries comes from real food rather than fake laboratory versions.
The boiling up of bones, vegetables, herbs and even sea vegetables helps me boost the nutritional value of the meals prepared with my stock.
I give thanks, too, that there is no longer any danger of being hauled away and burnt at the stake for just making a great meal.
I too enjoy making soup stock. The aroma of chicken stock is so heavenly. I harvest as many fresh herbs from my garden as I can and throw them into the pot. It is autumn here in the US and I love to make fresh soups to warm our hearts.