Making vegetable stock

I’ll be the first to admit that, ever since the late 1990s, when commercial stocks made the quantum leap from those wicked, dessicated cubes to liquid packed in cartons, I have kept my pantry shelves filled with them. These newfangled “stock-boxes” might not have been as flavorful or rich as my homemade stocks, but they certainly were good enough to use in even my most delicate recipes, not to mention incredibly convenient.

What freedom! The monthly task of making four quarts of stock, with all the prepping, simmering and straining, was fortunately no longer a necessity — the more so since the appearance of those gourmet stocks on the market shelves happened to coincide with a move to New York City and the inevitable shrinking of my living quarters. (There was no room in my tiny freezer for my monthly stock production: if I wanted fresh stock, I had to make it every single time I cooked.)

So I succumbed; and even after I’d moved into a roomier kitchen, I still reached for that convenient carton every time I needed to cook with a stock.

然后有一天，从蓝色中，我有一个令人难以置信的渴望，再次制作四夸脱的股票。闻到炉子上的富肉汤，闻到炉子上的浓郁液，并填充房子的舒适性的令人愉快的渴望。

So I got my giant stockpot out of the pantry.

什么启示！那些花哨的纸箱，我怎么能容易地欺骗那些？我的自制股票的味道如此深，如此丰富，如此细微......它根本无法与盒装类型进行比较。

毋庸置疑，我再次回到自己的股票，并在抛弃过去几年的练习时感到谨慎的内疚感。我不能说我再也不会在纸箱中购买库存（毕竟，很难放弃方便）。但至少，我可以自信地说，每月一次房子都会充满泥土闻的泥土。