Christmas past--with Krylon

Christmas is one of those times when past and present converge in a strange time warp. Memories haunt this time of year--happy memories we try to recreate for our kids and grandkids (often at the cost of our own sanity), sad memories that rush back with the sights, sounds, and scents of Christmas, and memories of loved ones no longer with us. The ghosts of Christmas Past and Christmas Present blur together in a muddle of memory and emotion and nostalgia and joy and pain. It’s no wonder people drink a lot this time of year. But this isn’t going to be an essay on the joy or heartbreak of Christmas or (heaven forbid) how to do Christmas right. Ugh. Instead, I’m going to share one of my Christmas stories with you, the first memory of Christmas I have. And yes, for you purists out there, it’s gardening-related (sort of). Come on in, find a comfy chair, and join me for a visit to Christmas Past.

The first Christmas I remember was when I was somewhere between 4 and 6 years old, so sometime between 1971 and 1973. We lived in the country in Northern California, and we were, ahem, dirt poor (garden jokes = dad jokes with dirt, not to be confused with dirty dad jokes). I don’t remember the presents I got that year, though I’m sure there were one or two. What I do remember are the ornaments. My mother bought a dozen royal blue Christmas balls, and those were the only ornaments we had. So my mother, being the creative problem-solver she was, decided we would make more. We cut up styrofoam meat trays and some other sort of packaging we had lying around, glued bits of eucalyptus to them (California, remember? Not a lot of evergreens where we lived except for juniper), and coated the results in silver spray paint. A Krylon Christmas! See? When I describe myself as a California redneck, I’m not lyin’.

Somehow my parents had gotten an artificial tree, and that year it was festooned with blue globes and silver eucalyptus meat tray parts. Awesome, huh? Actually, it was. I still have a few of those homemade ornaments, though the last of the blue balls (ho ho ho - I said, “blue balls”) broke about 20 years ago. There's a picture of one of them at the beginning of this post. Here are a few more:

They don’t have much eucalyptus left--it’s worn off over the last 40+ years of loving use--but they’re still around, and I still hang them on the Christmas tree each year. Each time I do, I think of my mother, doing the best she could and making something beautiful out of what she had and could afford--and teaching me to do the same.

I’m not poor now. We aren’t rich, but we have what we need and some of what we want, and that is a blessing beyond measure. But the lesson I learned that Christmas, cutting out scraps and gathering bits of eucalyptus, has stuck with me. For me, it’s part of the allure of gardening. You can start with almost nothing--a tiny seed, a fragile transplant, a cutting--and nurture it into something beautiful. Growing things is a form of magic to me, a way to make something out of (almost) nothing. Gardening also teaches me to find clever uses for stuff that other people throw away: garden art from recycled materials, pots from yogurt containers, winter-sowing containers from takeout boxes, and, of course, compost from kitchen scraps and yard debris. Reuse and repurpose and recycle--and make something beautiful. Thanks, Mom, for teaching me a lesson that has shaped my life these many years. It’s the best Christmas gift you ever gave me.

Don’t toss that turkey carcass! Make broth instead.

A belated happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

If you’re like me, you’ve been eating turkey since yesterday, and the turkey carcass is probably starting to look a little bare. But don’t pitch it yet! I like to keep a little bit of Thanksgiving with me all year long, by treasuring that extra stuffing-induced belly fat. Well, OK, I don’t really treasure it, but I do seem to keep it with me. I also keep a bit of Thanksgiving around in the form of turkey broth, which (most years) lasts me until the following Thanksgiving, when I use the last of it to flavor the Thanksgiving Day stuffing. Dontcha love it when things work out neatly like that? Yes, I used to alphabetize my records when I was a kid (note for those of you under 30: records are big round black things made of vinyl that play music for approximately 3 days till they scratch or warp or your best friend’s kid sister gets hold of them and turns them into something that looks like an Etch-A-Sketch. I may forgive her for what she did to my Pyromania album, but I’ll never forget.).

Oops, I digress. Anyway, back to broth-making. You can substitute homemade turkey broth for chicken broth in almost any recipe, which can save you quite a bit of money throughout the year. And broth is brain dead easy to make.

First, make it within a couple days of Thanksgiving. You don’t want your broth to taste like old, stale turkey.

Next, gather your supplies.

What you need

• A big pot. Big enough to hold your turkey carcass (and maybe your best friend’s kid sister).
• A turkey carcass (duh)
• Water - enough to cover the turkey carcass.
• A recipe. Grab a recipe for chicken stock from your nearest cookbook or Chef Google and scale it up based on the size of your turkey. Broth-making is not a precision operation, so don’t agonize about quantities of stuff.
• Whatever stuff your recipe calls for. I’ll give you a few hints that a lot of recipes may not include:
• You can use celery tops and bottoms and scraps for the celery. It’s a great way to use up stuff you’d otherwise compost.
• If you use white or yellow onions, you can leave the skins on. Just cut off the roots and any outer layers that are dirty or moldy, quarter what’s left, and throw it in the pot. The skins from yellow onions will help give your broth a nice yellow color.
• You can leave the stems on parsley. They’ll add flavor. Ditto for any other fresh herbs you use.
• Use your old, limp, sorry-looking carrots that have been in the vegetable bin since last Easter. As long as they aren’t moldy or rotten, they’re fine for broth.
• If you didn’t use them for gravy or doggie snacks, throw in the giblets, heart, and neck--but not the liver. The liver will make your broth taste liver-y. Blech.
• Don’t chop anything, just cut it into chunks. You’re going to strain your broth, so big pieces are actually better.

Here’s today’s pot o’ broth. Everything’s in the pan and ready to start cooking.

After you’ve boiled everything for awhile, strain the broth with a colander or big sieve. Line the colander with cheesecloth if you want clearer broth.

Here's the broth all strained and tidy:

Don’t throw the stuff you strained out away. Not yet, because you can boil it all again for a second batch of broth. Add new vegetables, herbs, etc., and boil this batch longer. You want the flavor and minerals to boil out of the bones. Strain it as before once it’s done.

Chill your broth and skim the fat from the top. Separate the turkey meat from the bones and soggy veggies. You can throw away the bones and veggies and use the meat for soup or something else.

Preserving your broth

Unless you have your very own Brady Bunch (RIP, Florence Henderson), you won’t be able to use that much broth all at once. That leaves you with a few options:

• Freeze the broth
• Can the broth
• Use the broth to make soup or something else that you freeze or can.

Freezing is easy, but you need freezer space to accommodate your gallons o’ broth. If that’s not a problem, freeze your broth in whatever size containers best suit the amount of broth you normally use at a time. If you use tiny amounts, you can freeze some in ice trays and put the cubes in a freezer bag. I usually freeze some in pints and some in quarts.

Canning broth requires a pressure canner. You cannot can broth or other low-acid foods safely in a boiling water bath. Most pressure canner instruction manuals include a recipe for chicken stock that you can use, or you can find one online. Note: if you look online, only use a recipe from a reputable source. Reputable sources include freshpreserving.com (the Ball and Kerr site), the National Center for Home Food Preservation, or any USDA Extension Service site.

Those last two paragraphs also apply to soups. You can use your broth in any soup recipe that calls for chicken broth. If you’re canning, just be sure you use a recipe from a reputable source. I know families are annoying, but killing them with botulism is a little extreme.

Here are a couple of recipes from trusted sources that you can try if you have a pressure canner:

• Canning Meat Stock, from the National Center for Home Food Preservation
• Homemade Chicken Soup, from freshpreserving.com

One final but very important note: If you’ve never pressure-canned before, follow the directions that came with your canner exactly. Also read:

• The Principles of Home Canning (National Center for Home Food Preservation)
• Using Pressure Canners (National Center for Home Food Preservation)

I also recommend the Ball Blue Book, which has both canning instructions and recipes.

Pressure canning isn’t scary (it’s actually really fun!), but it does carry some risks. If you follow up-to-date instructions from a reliable source and use appropriate equipment in good repair, you’ll be fine.

Now go get that carcass and make some broth!