From Good Stock

Today I had an older gentleman remark that I looked younger than my actual age. He thought that I looked like I should be in my early twenties. When I told him that I was actually on the downhill end of my thirties, he replied,"Well, you must come from good stock."

Which got me thinking about good stock. The definition of "stock" he was referring to is "the person from whom a given line of descent is derived." However there are many other definitions for the word "stock." For instance it can refer to the trunk of a tree or main stem of a plant, or the wooden piece to which the barrel and mechanism of a rifle are attached, or the raw material from which something is made (like cardstock), or even a broth that is a foundation for soups or sauces.

A-hah! Now that's something I can relate to. The stock can make or break a dish. With good stock you can make a hearty soup or a rich gravy, or even add flavor to simple things like rice or mashed potatoes. In a can, or the ever-so-handy resealable carton, I have my favorite brand. But it's so easy to make my own, that's often what I'll do.

Strip a roast chicken of all its meat and what's left, toss into a big pot. Add an onion, a carrot, a celery stick, and a clove or two of garlic, if you like. Cover and simmer over low heat for a couple hours. Strain out all of the solid stuff, and you're left with good stock. You would be surprised how much better something will taste when made with your own stock.

These photographs are, from top to bottom: My Mother, My Father and Mother, My Maternal Grandparents, and my Great Great Great Grandmother(!). I guess I do come from some pretty good stock, actually.

The Start of Something

Growing up, my parents seemed extremely old-fashioned to me. It stands to reason, since she was forty two and he fifty eight when I was born. I was raised on a small farm in a small town where family ties and traditions ran (and still do run) deep.

Ours was the kind of family that sat down to dinner (meat, potatoes, and two vegetables) every night at the same time. I can remember fighting that tooth and nail...I wanted to eat in the living room, or stay at my friends house an extra half hour...but supper was at 5:30 and we ate together. I was expected to be there. And there was no leaving the table until we were all done. Dessert too.

At the time, all I wanted was to eat, fill my stomach, and be on my way to the next adventure. But looking back, a lot happened around that table. Stories were told, histories were passed on, and lessons were learned, even if we didn't know it then.

Now that I'm grown, I love family dinners. But with a busy family like mine, meals with everyone around the table are few and far between. My husband rides his bicycle with friends two to three nights a week. My girls go to their dads. My other girls live with their mom and are only here every other weekend, or sometimes less.

But no matter what table I'm sitting at, there are always stories to tell, news to share, jokes, recipes, and secrets to pass on. This is my reason for starting this blog, to share what I have learned around the table. Be it my mothers table, my friends table, the restaurant down the street, or my own kitchen table, I want to share it as though we were all sitting around the same table.