Somehow I have had poultry on the brain the last few months. We talked about chicken in Scotland, and the differences between regulations in the UK and the United States. Then I read Big Chicken on Lisa's recommendation. I've long believed in attempting to eat local, sustainably and humanely raised meat and poultry as much as possible, but I have not always been very strict about it. Many times convenience wins, although in those instances I at least aim to go organic.
When I returned from Paris I needed to make chicken stock but the farmer I usually buy chickens from, and who also supplies me both with chicken feet and wonderfully flavorful older stewing hens, had no chicken available. Stock is a general pantry necessity in my house, and I almost always have some in the freezer, but I was out right then, and Thanksgiving was coming. I like to start my turkey gravy with a base of chicken stock. I did make stock, using the cheapest chicken I could find in the grocery store. That is the way I did it when I was young, waiting for sales, and snapping up cheap chicken for stock. But I was young and naive then. The experiment was a lesson in how the quality of the ingredients affect the quality of the final product. My stock making technique and skill has evolved over time, but that particular batch was functional but far from the best stock I have ever made. although it was still superior to stock in a box.
The resulting turkey stock might have been the best I have ever made however, although. Whether it was the turkeys, or the fact that I've changed my technique somewhat since the previous Thanksgiving, I'm not completely certain. I got two smallish turkeys, one a local heritage breed pastured turkey and the other a wild turkey. I didn't take pictures of them but perhaps I should have. I named them Abe and Mary. Abe, the wild turkey was long and tall, lean, muscular and gangly. Mary was small and rounded, much like a smaller version of the turkeys we find in the grocery store every year, but without the breast enhancements. The trimmings and bones of Abe and Mary made the best turkey stock I have ever made. And both of them were perfectly delicious to eat as well. None of us could discern a difference in taste between the birds.
I didn't roast the birds. I couldn't have fit both of them in my oven anyway. The breasts were removed and cooked sous vide to the perfect temperature. The legs were braised slowly in red wine. The breast meat at the end of the platter near the bottom of the photo is Mary's, the back is Abe's. (sorry I wasn't really thinking about blogging on Thanksgiving, I'm just happy to have any picture.) You can barely discern any difference other than that Abe's breasts were flatter and wider than Mary's. They both tasted tender and juicy and delicious. In the same way, Abe's legs are long and Mary's drumsticks are plump with a dainty ankle. The brown bits on the platter of breast meat are slices of turkey skin that was roasted until it was crisp and crackly like bacon. I really couldn't taste much difference between the two, so I'm not convinced I'd pay extra for a wild turkey, unless it ends up that it was Abe's bones that made that stock so wonderful. I would pay for a heritage and pastured turkey, as the flavor was excellent however as the flavor was superior to the standard market fare.
But there was still no chicken and I needed to expand my poultry horizons. I needed a couple of alternate suppliers so I started doing some research, and now I have a list of a few places to try, although my favorite local farm will probably remain first on my list when chickens are available.
As happens, I needed to make stock again. This time I procured chickens elsewhere. They came gutted, but otherwise fully intact. Now, of course I know that chicken doesn't grow in styrofoam packets, and I've been part of a team that butchered a lamb. But I've never had a whole chicken on my cutting board before, and I hate to admit that I started off being a little bit squeamish. I got over it. Goodness knows that if our ancestors, even only a few generations ago, were going to eat a chicken they were faced with the whole bird, and they had to pluck it as well. And I do believe that we should be aware of what we eat, and its role in the ecosystem, and all that stuff that sounds good when you are talking and seems much more daunting when you are a privileged white American faced with a chicken on your cutting board.
So I managed. I learned that it is very easy to snap a chicken's neck right where it meets the back. I'm not sure I really wanted to know that, but now I do. I learned to pull out the esophagus and other funky bits. Don't worry, I took a picture but I'm not going to show it to you. I separated out the feet and heads for use in stock, collected the offal separate bags, and had a pile of nice whole chickens to use for regular cooking, looking just as nice as if I'd picked them up at the store.
I made stock yesterday. I've used chicken feet in stock before; they enhance the collagen level in the stock and give it body and flavor. I went to the Chinese market, where I learned I can buy chicken feet, and necks, and even heads, duck heads too, if I want, for future stocks, and I purchased a small package of necks to enhance this batch of stock, even if they are not organic. The resulting stock is excellent, even without a stewing hen.
I know most of my friends don't make stock and I understand. It takes time, but I love the process. That doesn't mean that I wouldn't rather just go to the store and pick up chicken breasts, an occasional steak, and some hamburger. But I honestly don't believe that is very healthy for our world or for us, much less sustainable. Our ancestors ate a wider variety of meats and a wider variety of parts of the animal than we do. We've grown very isolated from our world, from the animals and the earth that feeds us, from death and the way death is a necessary part of life. We need diversity to nourish our bodies, the earth needs diversity to survive. Different plants, different animals, fill different niche's in the ecosystem, a system of which we are a part.
In my own way of looking at things, this is part of my hope to simplify. I don't mean make things easier necessarily, but to be conscientious in my choices and my actions. A chicken, a whole chicken will give me several meals, its carcass combined with the feet and head will give me nourishing broth and soup, and the livers and gizzard and heart have essential nutrients that we don't easily get elsewhere (the gizzards and heart can go in stock). Even eating other proteins, I'd like to try to be more conscientious in my choices. I am a single person, so true nose-to-tail living would be difficult, and I'm not likely to buy a whole hog. But I can seek out variety and diversity. We will see how that goes. And yes, I know the the Chinese, and probably others, eat the chicken feet, but I'm not there yet, and if you come to my house for dinner, I promise not to feed you chicken feet either.