Specialty #6: Bone Collection, Bone Broth
If it comes from a Le Creuset cauldron, I'm in
“Would it be weird if I asked for the leftover bones for my bone collection?” I ask my wife over the flickering candlelight at a new trendy restaurant. I’ve just cleaned the meat off three medium-rare lamb chops, and I’m eying their nearly bare, deliciously toasted remains to repurpose.
“Yes,” she says, as if she hasn’t heard this question dozens or more times over the years. Chicken-less wing bones abandoned in the remnants of a puddle of buffalo sauce at sports bars, ribs sucked clean of their meaty barbecue glaze awaiting their inevitable trip to the trash on a glossy restaurant plate, a T-bone cut bare from the filet at a steakhouse — I’ve wanted to keep them all, but alas, social norms.
For years, I’d stocked and replenished what I fondly call my bone collection, a gallon-sized bag in the lowest part of my freezer stuffed with leftover bones, and sometimes other food scraps including celery ends, carrot peels, garlic skins, herb stems and whatever else may simmer into a nice stock. Once the bag is full, it goes into a dutch oven, topped with water and a generous handful of salt, to simmer for hours, as my bone collection slowly defrosts, infuses the liquid with collagen and flavor, and becomes my secret potion. We’re embracing weird girl winter over here and that weird girl has the best soup.
When I arbitrarily decide the stock is ready (after at least 6 hours, hopefully, longer), I turn off the heat, allow it to cool slightly, and then strain out the bones and very mushy veggies. They go in the compost bag, having finally lived up to their full potential, and I’m left with quarts of rich bone broth to use in soups, stews, whatever I like. And yes, my bone collection restarts.
The satisfaction of using the animal to its utmost is pleasing, the results are so satisfying, and theoretically healthy (the collagen in bone broth is supposed to be good for your bones and your complexion).
If we’re friends or colleagues, you may have heard me say something like “I was a vegetarian for a decade” before slicing into a medium-rare steak oozing its meaty juices, or before biting into a crisp chicken leg, or grabbing a lamb chop to dip into a side of herb sauce. It’s maybe like a little bracha to alleviate my guilt for eating dead flesh, in public, with seemingly no remorse. Appreciation, maybe.
I’ve recently read two books that have made me consider and reconsider eating meat. Anthony Bourdain’s Typhoid Mary, the story of a Manhattan cook who, like her name suggests, spread disease via bad kitchen hygiene, and Camas Davis’ Killing It, a memoir about a journalist-turned-butcher loaded with several graphic slaughter scenes. Both nonfiction books easily illustrate the importance of eating a whole animal, for financial, environmental, and ethical reasons. Plainly stated, it’s just rude to kill an animal for food and not use all of it for food.
While my butchery is limited to spatchcocking grocery store chickens and carving a Friendsgiving turkey, what I can do to honor the animal (which I do my best to source from eco-friendly, humane producers), is save the bones and repurpose them for yet another comforting, nourishing meal.
Since I cook with bone broth more often than I can replenish my stock, there are a few packaged bone broths I love and recommend if you don’t have the freezer space for a bone collection or social dysfunction to collect cooked bones.
Brodo, the CPG product from chef Marco Canora’s mini-chain of the same name in New York City offers various types of sippable bone broth, including my favorite, Spicy Nonna, a garlic and chili-infused chicken broth. Each broth comes in a 1-cup soft pack which is ideal for cooking (no need to open a whole box), and easy to store in a crowded pantry.
Butcher’s Broth, currently only sold in supermarkets (found mine at Key Foods), is a super-rich broth made with organic ingredients. The ginger and turmeric flavor was perfect for a quick egg drop soup (in this economy, I know) — I just simmered it, drizzled in two eggs I whisked together, and splashed in some sesame oil before serving.
Zoup! comes in a glass jar which makes it feel kind of homemade and it’s available as a concentrate if you’re short on space.
Last week, I roasted a chicken for Valentine’s Day. When we were done with dinner, my wife leaned into my love language - she saved the bones for my collection.