The Hungry Hoosier

Easter Ham: Dueling Legends

Originally published in candy-coated newspapers on March 20, 2008

Christian holidays are a mixed bag of biblical tradition and pagan rituals. For the most part, I don’t get too concerned about that sort of thing. I grew up with both Santa and baby Jesus as key figures in the Christmas story and the resurrection of Easter was told to me in tandem with tales of an egg-hiding rabbit. This flirtation with paganism has not, so far, caused me to sacrificing any goats or pray to the goddess of the whippoorwills. 

One aspect of holidays that are particularly interesting to me is the food, of course. Easter celebrations, for instance, usually have either lamb or ham at the center of the table. We were always a ham family when I was growing up. Lamb was a bit too exotic for us. I’ve continued that tradition with my own family, so an Easter ham will be our entrée on Sunday and we’ll all have ham sandwiches in our lunches a good part of the rest of the week.

Our ham will come from a locally-raised Indiana hog and it will be smoked by the good folks at Goose The Market in Indianapolis. The great thing about a smoked ham is that you don’t have to do much - just warm it up. I’ll be making a sweet and spicy Maple Chipotle Glaze using maple syrup from Burton Mapleview Farm in Medora, Indiana, home of the National Maple Syrup Festival. You should make plans to go next year - always the first two weekends in March.

So how did ham become one of the Easter meal mainstays? There are competing legends - one involving sex, tragedy and revenge and the another not nearly as salacious. Let’s get the boring one out of the way. Back in the day, hogs were butchered in the Fall and the meat had to cure during the Winter. Around Easter, the hams were ready so that is what was served for the Easter celebration. Not much excitement there.

The other story is a wild one. Here is the sort version. According to ancient folklore, a woman named Ishtar became pregnant, claiming the father of her child was a sunbeam. She declared herself a goddess and named her little son of a sunbeam Tammuz. He grew up to be a great hunter and one day while on a hunt Tammuz encountered a wild pig who ate him. Did you get that? The pig ate Tammuz, not the other way around.

Ishtar, as you might imagine, was devastated and to commemorate the anniversary of her son’s death, she established an annual 40-day period during which nobody could eat meat. At the end of the 40 days, she commanded everyone to eat the very beast that had eaten her son. Ishtar eventually became known as Easter, there’s a miraculous birth involved, the 40 days is known as Lent, and each year Tammuz is “resurrected” as we consume the beast that consumed him. Told you it was a wild story.

For some Easter has tremendous religious significance and for others it is a time to celebrate the first signs of Spring. For us, it is both. Regardless into which category you fall, you’ve got to eat something on Sunday and unless pork is off limits to you, ham is a pretty good choice. If you plan to have a ham, you might want to try this Chipotle Maple Glaze. 

Chipotle Maple Glaze

• 1/2 cup maple syrup
• 1/2 cup dark brown sugar
• 2 chopped chipotle peppers
• 1 tablespoon of adobe sauce
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

This glaze should be poured or brushed on the last 20 minutes of your ham’s warming time. Chipotle chilies can be found canned in the Mexican good isle of most grocery stores. They come in adobe sauce.

Place all ingredients in a medium sauce pan, stir with a whisk and bring to a simmer. Remove ham from the oven and turn over up to 400 degrees. Pour or brush on the glaze. Place back in the oven for 20 minutes. Remove the ham from the oven and let stand for about 5 minutes.

St. Patrick's Day: Heritage Envy

Originally published in frothy newspapers on March 13, 2008

It happens to me each and every mid-March - heritage envy. I know you don’t have to be Irish to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. In my grad-school days I witnessed a United Nations of frat boys and sorority girls all getting drunk on green beer. That’s not what I mean. I’m envious of the people who are of genuine Irish decent and who have a still-strong connection to their heritage. Its not just the Irish that makes me green with envy but really anyone who is proudly aware of the places from which their families came.   

Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of my own family history. My mother and father were both born in the same small town in the Arkansas Ozark Mountains and their respective families were among the first homesteaders in those parts. Prior to that, the Hutcheson’s were in Virginia. My great-great-great-great-great-grandfather Hutcheson was a member of the Virginia House of Burgesses - the very first elected assembly of the New World. Best I can tell, the Hutchesons came here from Scotland. Carved into the other braches of my family tree are other surnames equally Anglo Saxon as my own.

In an attempt to get in touch with my inner kilt-wearer, I visited Scotland a few years ago. On my first visit to a pub, I tried to take it in with all my senses - the ambient brogued chatter of the locals, the taste of my imperial pint of tepid beer, the cool smooth feel of the centuries-old wood beam that ran floor to ceiling beside my table. None of these things stirred a single ancestral yearning. When I make Scottish shortbread cookies for my boys, I pay close attention the work my hands are doing as they pinch the flour and butter together. The memories conjured are not of an Old-Country Grandmother but of the last time I performed the task. My family immigrated so long ago that all the cultural etchings of the British Isles have been long worn away.

So on holidays like St. Patrick’s Day I masquerade like so many others. I load my iPod with The Chieftain’s, I make a pot of Irish stew or slow cook some corned beef and cabbage, and drink a pint or two of beer, although I like mine chilled to a cool 40 degrees. Since becoming a parent, my wife and I use dinner-table conversations on occasions like St. Patrick’s Day to teach our kids a little something about anther time or place.

Whether or not you’re Irish, I hope you enjoy March 17 and get a little taste of the Emerald Isle. If you’ve not yet planned your menu, you might want to give this version of Irish Soda Bread a try. The traditional bread was often served with apples and an Irish Cheddar cheese on the side. I’ve incorporated both of these flavors right into this recipe. I’ve also called on my Arkansas heritage and prepared it in a cast-iron skillet, resulting in a thick and crispy bottom crust. This recipe is both sweet and savory and would be a terrific accompaniment to a stew or you could add some Scottish marmalade and pass it off as dessert.

Irish Soda Bread with Apples and Cheddar

• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 2-1/2 all-purpose unbleached flour
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1 teaspoons baking powder
• 3/4 teaspoons salt
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 stick unsalted butter
• 1 crisp apple, peeled and cut in small bite-size pieces
• 1/2 cup sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
• 1 1/4 cups buttermilk
• 1 large egg, slightly beaten

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Put 2 tablespoons of butter into a cast-iron skillet and place in oven. Sift together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and baking soda. Cut in the butter and mix very thoroughly with your hands until the mixture resembles small gravel. Stir in apples and cheese. Add the buttermilk and egg to the flour mixture. Stir until well moistened. Remove skillet from oven and swirl butter to coat the bottom and sides of skillet. Place dough into pan and smooth to the edges. Place in oven and bake for one hour. Test with an inserted knife for doneness. Cool in the skillet for about five minutes and then transfer to a wire rack to cool. To serve slice into wedges. Serves about eight.

The Gnaw Bone Tenderloin Is Alive and Well...Sort of

One of our favorite claim-to-fame Hoosier foods is the tenderloin and no tenderloin got more attention than did the Gnaw Bone version, available at the Gnaw Bone Food and Fuel, a run-of-the-mill gas station that just happened to serve an extraordinary tenderloin. National food magazines and websites pointed travelers to the Gnaw Bone for a taste of Hoosier goodness.

A couple of years ago the owner of the Gnaw Bone closed down shop but took over the clubhouse at the nearby Salt Creek Golf Course. He soon moved on but the tenderloin remains, prepared just the way it was at the Gnaw Bone. They offer a large version ($8.25) and a smaller option ($5.75). I sure to miss the old Gnaw Bone Food and Fuel and although the clubhouse (actually called the 19th Hole Sports Bar and Grill) is a more comfortable place to eat, not being at a gas station just doesn't seem right. Anyway, the tenderloin I had was terrific and I'll certainly go back the next time I'm in the area. The menu (available here) has a few other options, mostly what you would expect. The 19th hole is Monday through Thursday 11 am to 9 pm, Friday and Saturday from 11 am to 11 pm, and Sunday from noon to 8 pm.

Bacon, Egg, and Cheese Panini

One of my favorite breakfasts is a bacon, egg, and cheese panini. This is my go-to breakfast when I go my local breakfast joint. The other night we decided to do "breakfast for supper" by making a family-sized version at home. I found a 12-inch ciabatta loaf at my local supermarket and had local eggs and bacon on hand (from here and here). Add some provolone and some mayo and dijon and we were good to go. I cooked the bacon the night before for a quick jump start. Mt panini press is pretty low tech but it works great.

Valentine's Day, Schmalentine's Day

Originally published in bittersweet newspapers in February 14, 2008

Valentine’s Day is once again upon us. As unromantic as it might sound, my wife and I have always sort of thought of this as a fake holiday - one perpetuated by the retail industry to sell lots of stuff. I would like to say that everyday is Valentine’s Day for us - with flowers, candy, and amorous across-room glances as part of our standard operating procedure. I would like to say that, but that would be a lie.

Given the reality of a near 20-year marriage, three careers, and two kids, entire days can pass when our communication with each other has only to do with which of us has work, church, or other evening commitments on what nights, who can take our youngest to a birthday party on Saturday, and what sort of discipline our oldest needs for having a “yellow” day at school. All of that seems to get in the way of romance.

We do manage to get an evening to ourselves occasionally. They are infrequent enough that they don’t have to be major events. A Friday night dinner and movie can do wonders to help us reconnect. When one of our mom’s is in town and able to watch our boys for a couple of hours, we even get excited about taking a kid-less trip to the grocery store. Without even thinking, we’ll hold hands as we walk from the parking lot to the store’s entrance even though its likely been weeks since we’ve strolled hand-in-hand because we each usually have littler hands to hold.

Not making a big deal of Valentine’s Day apparently puts us in a minority because there seems to be a lot going on each February 14th. Here are a few stats:

• According to the Society of American Florists. Consumers purchase an estimated 180 million roses each Valentine's Day in 2005 with 74 percent of those purchases being made by men. 
• The U.S. Census Bureau tells us that in February, jewelry stores in the United States typically sell $2.4 billion worth of merchandise.
• 180 million cards will change hands on Valentine’s Day, making this the second largest holiday for giving greeting cards, according to Hallmark.
• More than 36 million heart-shaped boxes of chocolate are sold for Valentine's Day, according to the Chocolate Manufacturers Association and National Confectioners Association.

Valentine’s Day is big business.

Although we do not make a big production out of our Valentine’s celebration, we do typically give a nod to old Cupid by exchanging some heart-felt sweet nothings and by having something chocolate-related for dessert. We’re not a dessert-every-night sort of family, and chocolate is certainly an extra special treat.

Since more often than not, Valentine’s Day falls on a busy weeknight, dessert usually has to be something that we make ahead or can put together quickly that evening. Lack of pre-planning often means we’re in impromptu mode, even on Valentine’s Day. One delicious and simple dessert is bread and chocolate. This idea originated with the Spanish. A bit of leftover bread toasted and then topped with melted bittersweet chocolate, can be just exotic enough to make a regular week-night meal Valentine’s-special. If you try this, use quality bread like a French baguette. Here’s the recipe.

Bread and Chocolate

• Several slices of hearty bread
• Softened butter
• Bittersweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to broil. Lightly butter each piece of bread on one side. The Spanish use olive oil instead of butter. I’ve tired both and the butter gives it a richer taste. Use olive oil for a lighter version. Put the bread butter-side up on a baking sheet and place in the oven just until slightly browned. Watch it closely because it can go from brown to black in mere seconds.

Remove the baking sheet and turn off the oven. Sprinkle a few chocolate chips on each piece of bread and place back in the oven long enough for the residual heat to melt the chocolate. Smooth out the chocolate with a knife. These are great just like this but to make things interesting try topping them with different things like chopped nuts or orange zest. Try one with a pinch of kosher salt. It adds a whole new flavor. You can also dust with some Cayenne pepper to give it a kick.

Chocolate and red wine are a lovely pairing. For bittersweet chocolate a Zinfandel would be terrific.

Getting Sauced with Your Mother, Part Five

Originally published in toothsome newspapers on February 7, 2008

Today we reach the end of the five-week series on the mother sauces - the classic French sauces from which so many others can be derived. I’ve had several people tell me they’ve been taking the journey with me. Others, I’m sure, are ready for me to move on to something else.

In summary, here is were we’ve been. We started with béchamel - the classic white sauce. My favorite product of the Hutcheson test kitchen during this week was a rich and silky Cauliflower Au Gratin. I started with the béchamel and added sharp cheddar cheese. Stirred it into some steamed cauliflower, topped with more cheese, and baked in the oven, this was one side item that was way more than a supporting character.

The next week, I focused on making demi glace which had two intermediate steps - a beef stock, then a basic brown sauce called espagnole. I froze one-cup portions of the demi glace and last week I pulled one out of the freezer to use for a accompanying sauce to a Sunday pot roast. I reduced a cup of port wine to a quarter cup, whisked in the thawed demi glace and then the roast drippings. This was no run-of-the-mill gravy. This was gravy of the gods - beyond description. With the first bite I knew that the 36-hours of preparation to get to the demi glace was worth every tick of the clock.

Week three featured egg emulsions - specifically hollandaise. I have plans for a spicy horseradish hollandaise to serve with roasted asparagus. In my mind this sounds like a terrific pairing. We’ll see what my taste buds think. I plan on adding a tablespoon or two of grated horseradish to the basic hollandaise. The asparagus will be tossed in olive oil, salted and peppered, and roasted in the oven. I’m looking forward to trying this soon.

Last week we covered veloute, similar to béchamel but made with chicken, veal, or fish stock. I tried out the chicken-stock version one evening to serve with chicken strips. My boys seemed to enjoy this at first but asked for ketchup before the end of the meal.

As I settled in to think about what to make to illustrate the last matriarch of the sauce world - tomato sauce, I decided to try my hand at my kid’s favorite off all sauces, the one that beat out veloute - ketchup.

The official tomato mother sauce is a basic tomato sauce with which all of us are familiar. Add some oregano and basil and you end up with an Italian version. You can head south of the border by throwing in some onions and jalapeño. Ketchup, of course, is just another version of tomato sauce.

One of the kitchen activities my kids enjoy is making homemade versions of some of their store-bought favorites. So far, we’ve made graham crackers, cheese crackers, and pop tarts. They got excited about the ketchup challenge.

This recipe is simple, doesn’t take long, and can be kept in the refrigerator for up to three weeks. We put ours in squeezable bottles, just like the real stuff. If you missed any of the other mother sauce recipes, they can be found on my website.

Homemade Ketchup

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 1 (28-oz) can puréed tomatoes
• 1 tablespoon tomato paste
• 2/3 cup packed dark brown sugar
• 1/2 cup cider vinegar
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

Heat a 4-quart heavy saucepan to medium-high and add the oil. Next, sauté the onions stirring until softened, about 10 minutes. Add tomatoes, tomato paste, brown sugar, vinegar, and salt. Simmer uncovered for about one hour, stirring occasionally, Let cool and then put in a blender to blend until smooth. Place in two squeeze bottles and chill, for about two hours.

Getting Sauced with Your Mother, Part Four

Originally published in smooth and silky newspapers on January 31, 2008

This is week four of the five-week series on the Mother Sauces - the classic French sauces from which lots of other sauces can be derived. So far, we’ve covered Béchamel, Demi Glace, and Hollandaise. This week we’ll spend some time with Veloute (pronounced veh-loo-TAY). French names give these sauces a high-brow sound of sophistication but don’t let the names be intimidating.

I had someone stop me a couple of weeks ago to talk about the week’s column. This happens frequently when you’re featured every week in your small-town newspaper. I even have strangers peer into my grocery cart and ask, “Are we gonna read about what your cooking with that stuff?” This is especially awkward when the contents of my cart include Captain Crunch, toilet paper, and beef jerky.

My most recent conversation was about Béchamel sauce.  “I’ve been making that for over fifty years but always called it gravy,” they told me. Those of who do any cooking at all, already know a great many techniques and recipes that were developed by the French. We just may not always recognize the origin. Heat up a frying pan with a little oil to brown some onions. You’re sautéing - something we learned from the French. 

Veloute is like that as well. It is similar to the white sauce Béchamel but instead of milk, stock is used - chicken, veal, or fish stock. This results in a sauce that is not as rich as Béchamel, and not as neutral in flavor. Typically a veloute made with chicken stock is served with a chicken dish, fish with fish, you get the picture, I’m sure. the technique is exactly the same for each of the stocks.

The variations are practically endless. Add lemon juice, egg yolks and cream to a veal veloute for an Allemande; mushrooms and cream to a chicken-based veloute for a sauce supreme; and shallots and white wine to a fish veloute for a Bercy sauce.

The quality of a veloute is going to be dependent on the quality of the stock used. For the veloute made with chicken stock, I’ve used a store-bought stock and the results have been good. If you go that route, choose a low-salt version.

This recipe is for a basic veloute. You can visit my website for variations (see here) and for recipes for the other mother sauces covered over the last few weeks.

Veloute

• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 4 tablespoons flour
• 2 cups hot stock (chicken, veal, or fish)
• Salt and Pepper

In a medium sauce pan melt the butter over medium-high heat. Add the flour and whisk for several minutes until it forms a straw-colored paste. Add the hot stock a little at a time. Each time you add some stock, whisk constantly until smooth. Reduce heat and bring the sauce to a gentle simmer. Let simmer for about 20 minutes, stiring frequently with whisk. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Getting Sauced with Your Mother, Part Three

Originally published in piquant newspapers on January 24, 2008

When it comes to the genetic slot machine I most certainly did not hit the jackpot. I’m 5’6’, the same height as the last several generations of Hutcheson men. So, the basketball coaches in my home town should probably look somewhere other than to my young sons for the next generation of hardwood stars. I’ve got asthma, allergies, and male-pattern baldness. Good thing I don’t need to write a profile for a dating service.

There is, however, a cherry in one of the metaphorical slot-machine windows - I’ve got low cholesterol. I’ve got some of the other health issues that show up uninvited when your in your forties but high cholesterol isn’t one of them. As a result, I don’t have to be too careful about my consumption of eggs and red meat. Goody for me.

In the medical literature, at least the studies that make their way to the general public, eggs have been on a good/bad rollercoaster for a number of years. They were good for us, than not so much. I believe the current thinking is that they are okay again.

For the last three week’s in this column, we’ve been taking a look at the mother sauces - the five classic sauces from which many others can be made. This week’s entry into the mother sauces is all about the egg, emulsions specifically. In the world of food, emulsions are typically egg yolks infused with fat. That does not sound too appetizing. That’s why these emulsion sauces have fancy French names like  mayonnaise and hollandaise.

Homemade mayonnaise comes with a bit of risk because the eggs are not cooked. I had a nine-day bout with salmonella a few years ago and I don’t want to get back in the ring with him. Pasteurized eggs yolks can be used for these uncooked emulsions like mayo but they are not something you typically find on your grocery-store shelves. For that reason, I’ll focus on hollandaise, a cooked emulsion, and the variations that come from it.

Hollandaise is the classic sauce used on things like Eggs Benedict, poached fish, and vegetables. Asparagus with hollandaise is an old-school side item. One of my favorite derivatives of hollandaise is béarnaise which is great on a filet mignon. Add some essence of orange to a hollandaise and you have a Sauce Maltaise, great on poached fish or chicken. You can also whip in some heavy cream to make a rich Sauce Mousseline to top a piece of salmon.

Note for web readers: This is a basic recipe for hollandaise see below for variations and links to the three mother sauces already covered in this series.
    
Hollandaise

• 3 egg yolks
• 1 teaspoon water
• 1/4 teaspoon sugar
• 1 1/2 sticks (12 tablespoons) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 12 pieces
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• 2 teaspoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
• 1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 1/8 teaspoon paprika

Pour about one  inch of water into a large saucepan and turn the burner to medium , brining the water to a simmer. Once it starts to simmer, reduce the heat to low.

In a medium mixing bowl, add the egg yolks and 1 teaspoon of water and whisk for one to two minutes until the mixture lightens in color. Add the sugar and whisk for another 30 seconds.

Place the mixing bowl over the simmering water and whisk constantly for three to five minutes, until there mixture coats the back of a spoon. Remove the bowl from over the pan and gradually add the butter, 1 piece at a time, whisking until all of the butter is incorporated. If needed, put the bowl back over the simmering water so that it will be warm enough the melt the butter. Add the salt, lemon juice, cayenne pepper, and paprika and serve immediately. This will make about 1-1/2 cups of sauce, plenty for six or more servings of Eggs Benedict or asparagus.

Three easy and delicious derivative sauces you can make from this basic hollandaise are béarnaise, maltaise, and mousseline. Here are the instructions for getting there.

Bearnaise

• 3 tablespoons white wine vinegar
• 2 teaspoons chopped shallot
• 1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon leaves
• 1/4 teaspoon ground pepper
• 3/4 cup cooked Hollandaise Sauce

In small saucepan, bring vinegar, shallot and tarragon to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, until almost all liquid has evaporated. Stir hot mixture into Hollandaise Sauce. Cover and chill if not using immediately. This goes great on a steak.

Maltaise

• Juice of one orange
• Zest of one orange

In a small sauce pan add the juice and zest and simmer over medium heat until reduced by half. Stir into one cup of hollandaise to make this sauce. Use it as an elegant accompaniment to poached fish, asparagus, or anything else you think might go well with an essence of orange.

Mousseline

• 1/4 cup heavy whipping cream
• 1 cup hollandaise

Whop the 1/4 cup cream and fold into the hollandaise to make this richer, mouse version of the sauce. Salmon with mouseline is the classic dish that uses this sauce. You could also add some chives and serve this with baked potatoes.

Here are links to the other two previous mother sauces in this series - Bechamel, and Demi Glace.

Getting Sauced with Your Mother, Part Two

Originally published in hot and juicy newspapers on January 17, 2008

Really great food is like a really great piece of music. The composer has four basic tools to use - rhythm, melody, harmony, and form and the cook has four flavor profiles with which to work - sweet, salty, sour, and bitter. In both music and cooking, the interplay among the basic elements is what makes things interesting.
 
There is a great scene in both the stage and film versions of Amadeus where Mozart plays a piece of music for Emperor Joseph and the Emperor tells Mozart, “there are simply too many notes, that’s all, just cut a few out and it will be perfect.” Mozart responds, “Which few did you have in mind, Majesty.”

Demi glace, today’s entry into the five-part series on mother sauces, has a great many notes and taking out even one is as unimaginable as removing a note from one of Mozart’s concertos. The creation of demi glace is not difficult but it is time consuming. The end product, however,  is nothing short of sublime - deep and complex.

As we discussed last time, the five mother sauces are the sauces from which many, many others derive. The road to demi glace includes two other stops that are destinations in and of themselves. The first stop is beef stock. Stop there and you’ve got a great base for soup or stew. At the next exit is a basic brown sauce, also known as espagnole. Technically, espangnole is the actual mother sauce but you can’t do much with it other than make demi glace. So, demi glace is the real star and its highly versatile, making it the mother sauce as far as I am concerned.

Demi glace can be used for the base of wine sauces like Marsala and Madeira, a delicious mushroom sauce, bordelaise, and many others. Unfortunately, I will not be able to get you all the way to demi glace in the space available in this column. Here is the recipe for phase one - a basic beef stock.

This stock beats the proverbial pants off of anything you will find in a can, or bullion cube. It can be made in a large batch and frozen in smaller servings. Two cups in a zip-top freezer bag is just right for lots of applications. This recipe begins with beef bones. I like femur bones and a good butcher can provide you with these and cut them to the size you need. You may also see bones put out occasionally in the grocery store meat counter. I will often buy what they have, throw them in the freezer, and when I have enough, make the stock.

This recipe for stock will get you started and if you want the next two phases - espagnole and demi glace, check my website. I’ll also have some of the uses for demi glace and the recipes for the other four mother sauces in case you miss one of those.

For web visitors, here are links to the other recipes and variations: Espagnole, Demi Glace & Variations 

Beef Stock

• 7 pounds beef bones, cut into 2-inch pieces
• 6 ounces tomato paste
• 2 cups onions, chopped
• 1 cup carrot, chopped
• 1 cup celery, chopped
• 2 cups dry red wine
• Fresh parsley, handful
• 4 bay leaves, fresh or dried
• Fresh thyme, 4 or five stems
• 10 black pepper corns
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 8 quarts of water

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Place the bones in a roasting pan and roast for one hour. Remove the pan from the oven and smear the bones with the tomato paste. Add the onions, carrots, and celery to the pan, placing them on top of the bones and roast for an additional 30 minutes. Remove the pan from the oven and use tongs to transfer the bones and vegetables to a 12-quart stock pot.

Drain off any fat that is in the pan. Deglaze the pan with the red wine, using a wooden spoon to scrape the bottom of the pan to loosen any browned bits. Pour the deglazing liquid into the stock pot. Tie the parsley and thyme together with kitchen twine and add it, along with the bay leaves, to the pot. Add  peppercorns, salt, and water. Place the pot on a high-heat burner and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and let simmer for four hours, skimming periodically.

Remove from the heat, strain, let cool for two hours and then refrigerate. The next day use a large spoon to remove the thin layer of fat that will have solidified on the top.

Espagnole

Here is the recipe for Espagnole, step two in getting you all the way to Demi Glace

• 1 gallon brown stock, hot (recipe here)
• 1 1/2 cups brown roux (recipe here)
• 1/4 cup bacon drippings
• 2 cups chopped onions
• 1 cup chopped carrots
• 1 cup chopped celery
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2 cup tomato puree
• Fresh parsley, handful
• Fresh thyme, three sprigs
• 3 bay leaves

In a stock pot, whisk the hot stock into the roux. In a large saute pan, re-heat the bacon drippings and add the vegetables. Season with salt and pepper. Saute about 5 minutes. Stir in the tomato puree and cook for an additional about 5 minutes. Add this to the stock pot. Use kitchen twine to tie together the parsley and thyme and toss in the stock pot along with the bay leaves. Skim as needed. Season with salt and pepper. Simmer for about 45 minutes. Strain the sauce through a strainer.