Messy kitchen

Yesterday I boiled most of my ten-pound bag of chicken leg quarters, saving out three quarters that I froze as-is for a certain recipe.  Cliff's youngest sister gave me a huge stainless steel pan years ago around Christmas time; I don't know what I'd do without it.  It's the only pan I have that's large enough for ten pounds of chicken.  I diced and froze the chicken yesterday, strained the broth back into my big pan, and set it, covered, on the cold back porch so the fat could rise to the top and congeal sufficiently for me to remove it this morning.  Besides, my energy level isn't quite what it ought to be, and I'd made enough mess for one day getting the chicken ready for the freezer.  
This morning I did my butternut soup experiment, which required a quart of the broth.  The soup turned out nicely, except that I added the frozen squash thinking it was pureed; it wasn't.  I had cooked it in the microwave and scraped it out of the skin, but that left those stringy strands that are part of cooked squash.  So the soup wasn't quite the consistency it was supposed to be.  This required my putting the whole batch of soup, again, through the blender. 

Once that was done, I had some good soup; it's what's for dinner.  
Unfortunately, I splashed and splattered squash soup all over the kitchen.   
Then I bagged up my chicken broth for the freezer.  More splashing and splattering; the dog is still licking the rug below the kitchen sink.  I must be the world's messiest cook.

The dishwasher isn't going to help me with this mess.  See my big pan in the right-hand sink?  

Ah, but the rewards are great.  Two cups of canned chicken broth costs about a buck in the store, and that stuff is diluted and over-salted.  What you see here is quality stuff.  I use it in so many soup recipes, it will go fast.    
Now I must go clean up that mess.  I need to mop, too.  I haven't mopped since before my little spell of being under the weather.

Chicken broth: worth its weight in gold

I bought four cans of Swanson chicken broth yesterday because I had totally used up my supply of broth in the deep freeze. Once they were in my cart, I left them there; but I also decided I'd better buy a ten-pound bag of chicken leg quarters and build up my freezer supply. I'd have the canned stuff to use in an emergency, of course. But it's such a poor product, compared to home-made... and much too salty.

I put the ten pounds of chicken in the biggest pot I own; my St. Louis sister-in-law gave it to me years ago, and I wouldn't part with it for any amount of money. I got it simmering, then we went to eat tacos with the next-door sister-in-law; when I came back home, the chicken was done.

I put it on the back porch (it's unheated) to get it cool enough to handle. Then I spent some time de-boning, dicing, and bagging up the meat.

It's somewhat disappointing how little chicken I get from that five-dollar, ten-pound bag, by the time I throw away the bones and skin. About twelve cups total, I think.

chicken fat. Yuck.

I let the broth sit on the back porch overnight so the fat would rise to the top and solidify so I could remove it. My mother is turning over in her grave right now, because she considered the fat the best part. Sorry, Mother. Cliff and I don't need it. Maybe the birds would like it?

(There are those pesky underlines again; ignore them, please. Or click on them if you like, and you'll see the same picture as above.)

I set the pan in the sink, because I'm sloppy and I knew there would be some spills. I wrote amounts on freezer bags; no need to write that it's chicken broth, because that's obvious. No need to date it, because it will be gone within a month anyhow.

This stuff is like pure gold to me. It gives me a wonderful feeling of security. Often if a recipe calls for four cups, I get a two-cup bag out of the freezer and add an equal amount of water. I'm sure it's still better than the canned product, even diluted.

I saved a quart back, because I intend to make squash soup later today.

Sadie got something out of this effort, too:

And what was my husband doing while I did all this?

Blading snow in single-digit temperatures with our brother-in-law's tractor that we're babysitting. Cliff says it's the best tractor for this job.