When we think of broth, many of us grew up conditioned to
think of things that came in cans, in cubes, or if we were lucky, in a pot with a chicken. At any rate, chickens were nearly always either involved or implied.
We were aware, of course, of the concept of beef broth,
generally that highly salted stuff from a can that my mother used for onion
soup topped with rusks, a food I had in no other context. And at a stretch,
there was vegetable broth, chicken soup’s less attractive cousin, which out of the standard can, is borderline nasty.
These days food snobs are all about their marrow broth and
other beef concoctions. And the rise of vegetarianism has elevated vegetable
broth from its bitter roots, if you’ll pardon the expression.
But beyond the big three broths lie another world worth
exploring. Basically, if it’s edible, you can consider the broth possibilities: Pea broth, for instance, makes use of the often-tossed half of shelling peas; corn stock coaxes the most out of shorn corn cobs.
The urge to press leftover bits into use is part parsimony,
part alchemy. Often you’ll find the end
result transcends the original material, now distilled to its best self.
That’s never truer than with Parmesan broth, made with those
hard ends and rinds that dry up into inedibility at the back of the cheese
drawer. I’d toss them into a bag in the freezer, occasionally bringing them out
to play as background flavor in soups. But by the time I’d collected two big
bags of them, clearly it was time to look for further uses.
Enter Parmesan broth, a wonderful elixir that will make you
pine for more random ends of cheese. It’s simple to make, and simply divine. I
eke it out in smaller amounts; no need to waste it all on one dish, as just a
bit will add tremendous flavor. A few tablespoons added to pasta instead of
extra cooking water boosts the flavor exponentially. Ditto with soups. And
risotto? To die for. So even if you’re ready to stash the soup pot for another
year, this broth isn’t bound by any season.
Parmesan broth
Ingredients
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 onion, peeled and quartered
1 head of garlic, halved crosswise
1 bunch of thyme
1 bay leaf
3-4 parsley sprigs
1 teaspoon black peppercorns
1 cup dry white wine
1 pound Parmesan rinds (this is a lot, it mostly filled the bowl that came with my scale)
8 cups water
Method
Heat oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Cook onion, garlic, thyme, bay leaf, parsley and peppercorns for about 5 minutes, stirring often, until garlic picks up color.
Add wine, deglazing the bottom of the pan, and bring to a simmer. Cook until wine is reduced by about half.
Add Parmesan and water. Bring to a simmer and cook for about 2 hours until broth is reduced by about half.
Rating: If the gushing above wasn't enough, I don't know what will convince you to make this.
Alas, it will be many moons before I have enough rinds to
make this again. My days of blithely buying what Mario Batali calls the
undisputed king of cheeses ended during the economic unpleasantry. But it was great
good fun while it lasted.
But in a sign of more welcome tidings, Surdyk's says it's open today. It's Sunday. In Minnesota. And at long last, you can buy booze, or at least they sent out an e-mail to that effect. What will they think of next?
But in a sign of more welcome tidings, Surdyk's says it's open today. It's Sunday. In Minnesota. And at long last, you can buy booze, or at least they sent out an e-mail to that effect. What will they think of next?
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