Donald Clegg: Making post-holiday stock can be full of meaning

I was mulling over what to write here while engaged in one of those post-Thanksgiving rituals that some, I suppose, might find slightly repulsive – breaking down the turkey carcass.

It’s enjoyable for me, just part of making stock, something I do so regularly that I’m surprised I still enjoy it so much. And I think a post-Thanksgiving stock is something special; it’s a communal private affair, so to speak, as stoves across the land share in making soup.

I consider many activities, stock-making among them, spiritual practices. Utilitarians would say that there’s nothing “spiritual” about making stock and that it’s just a simple and cheap way to make something better than you can buy at the store.

True enough, but meaning is where you find it.

Making stock carries rich associations for me, thinking of centuries of pots on the fire and memories of meals past. And as this one simmers away, filling the house with good smells, it adds resonance to the season.

“Spiritual,” of course, is a word fraught with peril, as it can mean, well, almost anything. Those with a philosophic bent, in particular, often find its use fuzzy, if not downright lazy-minded, and can, rightfully, find much to take exception to.

I’m well aware of all this, being of such mind myself; I will certainly address it another time and am going to completely ignore that discussion (and my use of the word) for now.

Here’s how you treat your next turkey: Pull out a big stockpot. Toss in the carcass; don’t worry whether you get all the meat off, as it will flavor the stock and can be used for soup, too.

Cut just the tip of the root end off of a couple of large onions. Quarter them and add to the pot, skin and all, along with a few mashed garlic cloves (no need to peel), a few stalks of celery (roughly chopped), two or three bay leaves, a couple dozen cracked peppercorns, and a pinch or two of salt.

Fill the pot nearly to the top with cold water and bring to a simmer, not a boil. Just let the stock simmer, the longer the better, skimming off any foam now and then.

I like to leave it on for several hours before straining off the solids, then let it reduce longer to intensify the flavor, then cool and refrigerate overnight. The fat comes off the top easily then, and you’re good to go for turkey soup, or freeze the homemade goodness for later use.

In case you’re wondering, no, I haven’t confused which column I’m writing – this or my food section column. It’s just that a good deal of my musings while making stock had to do with the pleasures of the season, and the intersection of the secular with the spiritual and religious.

And I can’t think of an easier connection than the table. The communion of the kitchen bears a small “c” but can still, I think, be a sacrament of sorts, religious or otherwise.

Locally, I think one of the saddest recent communal losses is that of the polling place, as I believe that going out to vote is one of the more important communal events in a society. That small civic duty, collectively carried out, can result in huge changes, even entire societal shifts.

And I think it’s hard to deny the existence of a “national spirit,” of sorts, even when we can’t agree on just what it is.

My stock-making isn’t nearly as momentous, but it’s still imbued with meaning. That holiday carcass isn’t empty; it’s filled with communal import and, to me, the inauguration of the season of giving thanks (more so than the rest of the year) and sharing good will and fellowship.

When I make Thanksgiving dinner, I’m part of a community, as it’s as close to a nationally shared event as anything this diverse country has these days.

My wife and I just had turkey for two (not that bulgogi and kimchee wouldn’t work as well to celebrate the day), but there were phone calls throughout the day and a lingering feeling of benevolence.

That seems to me reason enough for both religious and not-so-much-so folks to share the season’s offerings.

After I pulled the turkey apart, packaged up a few freezer bags and got the stock going, I had a hot turkey sandwich, on a soft white roll with lots of gravy, for breakfast. It was good.

Here’s to the pleasures of the holiday season, however you celebrate.

Take stock – and make stock – in a shared spirit of peace and good will for all.