I'm Just Here for the Food_ Version 2.0 - Alton Brown [93]
When the bones crumble in the mighty grip of your tongs, it’s time to kill the heat and ponder your evacuation options. If you’re making only a gallon or two, you can probably safely lift the pot to the sink, but straining it is going to be a genuine pain. And remember, as we discussed in an earlier section, steam is a very efficient conductor of heat—and so are your arms.
Since stock can be kept in a deep freeze for up to a year when properly sealed, and I happen to have a chest freezer, I make stock only a few times a year—and when I do, I make a lot. And when I need to move it, I fall back on a skill developed in my misspent youth. Now, I’m not saying that I actually siphoned gas out of my parents’ cars so that I could fuel my Pinto and still have money for Big Macs, but . . . well, yes, that is what I’m saying.
Find a heavy rubber band (the type that markets put on bunches of broccoli works well) and use it to attach a single layer of cheesecloth over one end of a 6-foot length of ½ to 1-inch food-grade plastic tubing (see illustration, right). I use stuff from the hardware store, but if you want to be super safe, buy food-grade tubing at your local home brewer supply. (If you live up north you can use the same tubing that folks use to hook up their taps during maple season.)
Place another pot (if you can, go with one as big as the one you’re siphoning from) at a lower level (in the sink, perhaps, with the pot of stock sitting on a hot pad on the counter). Set a fine-mesh strainer in the mouth of the empty pot. Hold the open end of the hose (without the cheesecloth) in your hand and, being careful not to block the opening to the pot, feed the cheesecloth-covered end of the hose into the pot of stock. Get as much of the hose in as possible; since the tubing was kept on a spool forever, it’ll probably help you out by coiling like a snake.
When you have at least two-thirds of the hose submerged, use your thumb to block up the end you’re holding and slowly extract the tube, making sure that the cheesecloth end stays all the way at the bottom of the pot.
Pull the tube down and hold it in the strainer. (I usually loop it under a rubber band on the handle so that I’m not stuck trying to hold both ends of the tube in their respective spots.) Now remove your thumb and behold. As long as you don’t let the end of the hose that’s submerged in the stock come to the surface, gravity and suction will transport the stock through the cheesecloth to the clean pot. (Yes, you can achieve the same end by sucking on the pipe, and yes, this is what I actually do, but neither me nor my publisher has any desire to be sued just because somebody gulps a big ol’ mouthful of hot stock.)
Now take a look at the stock you’ve managed to move. If it seems relatively clear you don’t have to strain further, but I usually do. Take four layers of cheesecloth and attach them to a colander with a couple of clothespins and strain into another container, preferably one with a lid.
Take a spoon and give the final liquid a taste. Feels kind of funny in your mouth, huh? Not thick, necessarily, but “full,” with lots of body. That’s the gelatin. Note the subtle chicken flavor. It’s not overwhelming, and that’s good because this stuff is going to work in a lot of different dishes and you wouldn’t want everything to taste like chicken.
Now we switch to sanitation mode. You have a big bucket of germ food sitting there in the Zone, and that just won’t do. Put the container in the refrigerator and not only will it take forever to cool down, but everything else in the fridge will get hot.
If it’s cold out, lid up the container and set it in the carport or garage until the temperature of the stock drops to about 40° F.
If it’s not cold out, fill a heavy zip-top freezer bag with ice, seal it carefully,