Tuesday, May 14, 2024
I've been tweaking this vegetable and chicken stew recipe. Here it is as of today.
That's between $40 and $50 of stuff from my local grocery store. I already had the soy sauce, mustard, black pepper, and lentils. The sauces, spices, barley, corn, and lentils will last for multiple batches, but the rest will be consumed by today's recipe. It makes between one and two gallons of stew.
Usually I chop as I go, but for the sake of this picture today I prepped everything in advance:
Here's the list of ingredients in recipe order:
Three jalapeños is the right amount of spice for me: enough to notice but not enough to burn. If I were making this for my parents, I'd use one instead.
The stove will be on high heat until all of the liquids are added.
Brown the chicken. Get some vegetable oil blazing hot, tong the thighs into the pot skin side down, and watch out for splatters. Once the thighs are willing to be picked up without sticking too much, flip them.
You're not cooking the chicken, you're just developing some browning and getting schmaltzy goodness into the pot.
Don't worry about burnt bits stuck to the pot. That's the good stuff, and it will come off easily once the onions, carrots, and celery are added.
Mix, stir, scrape, and add black pepper.
After a few minutes, add the garlic.
You'll smell the garlic as soon as it goes in. Give that a minute and then add the peppers.
Stir occasionally, but don't be afraid to let some browned sticky stuff happen on the bottom of the pot. That will all come off when you add the tomatoes.
First, the okra.
Okra adds slimy mucilage, which I'm thinking thickens the stew. It might also help slow down browning, which at this point is happening fast at the bottom of that pot.
Let that go a little bit until you're worried about things sticking too much. Customize the recipe to match your level of anxiety. Then add the tomatoes and scrape the bottom of the pot as if you're deglazing.
More black pepper.
It won't take long for the tomatoes to break down and become soupy. At that point, add the parsley and basil, and scrape the bottom of the pot again. Be careful not to burn your knuckles with the steam that will billow from the disturbed liquid.
Now add the stock, scraping any remaining stuff from the bottom of the pot. When the liquid eventually returns to a boil, reduce the stove's heat to maintain a simmer. In the mean time, you can add a few more ingredients.
The potatoes, now that they can't stick:
The collard greens:
Remember the chicken? Now that it's cooled down, carve off as much meat as you can. Cut the pieces into bite sized chunks and add them to the pot. Save the bones, cartilage, and skin in the freezer for making next time's stock.
This recipe can accommodate five chicken thighs instead of four. My grocery store sells packs of four and packs of six, so I usually go for four.
Now's a good time to add the soy sauce and the mustard. The mustard smells like too much at first, but mellows out after a few minutes. The soy sauce is primarily for the salt, but also adds color and complements the umami of the mushrooms that you'll add next.
Let the mushrooms simmer for a couple of minutes, and then add the barley and lentils.
Set a timer for thirty minutes. Five minutes before it expires, add the corn.
When the timer goes off, you're done. Turn off the stove and cover the stew. It tastes best once it's cooled down a bit.
The celery had leaves on it, so I used it as garnish.
After two large servings, here are the leftovers:
You can just use vegetable or chicken stock bought from the store, or bouillon cubes. That's what I did.
But it wasn't fussy enough. I like to fuss.
Also, this recipe generates a lot of vegetable waste, and I'm not composting anymore, and I have this slow cooker, so...
Save your scraps in the freezer, and then put them in the slow cooker.
Add a sprinkling of whole peppercorns, a few bay leaves, and a bit of whichever savory spices you can spare.
Use just enough water (and/or last batch's stock) to nearly cover the scraps.
Put on the lid, set the slow cooker to "low," and ignore it for a day or two.
Your home will reek of deliciousness. You'll wake up from dreams of mirepoix. You'll leave and come back having forgotten about the stock and wonder what the hell is that wonderful smell?
Later the next day, here's what it looks like:
Strain out the solids and let it drip for a while.
After a day in the refrigerator, the remaining solids sink to the bottom, and the fat forms a layer on top. It's dark from all of the vegetable skins, I think.