With hens, ducks, and geese in the courtyard, my grandmother never worried about making a particular kind of broth. When she needed broth for a soup or a sauce, she might dispatch a skinny old rooster or an old fowl whose useful days were done. If she had a pile of bones and trimmings saved from a big meal with several roasts—chicken, ducks, or a goose—she’d make broth. If the bones were from different kinds of birds, it made no difference: they would go into the pot together. That’s the way I encourage you to think about making broth with this recipe (or even without a recipe). You may not have a skinny old rooster running around, but you can certainly search the supermarket meat case for packages of bony poultry parts, such as drumsticks, wings, and backs, or ask the butcher for backs and ribs. Gizzards are good, too. And you should save and freeze the neck and gizzards that you’ll usually find in a package tucked into a roasting chicken (they’ll all be good in your broth except for the liver). Also, use trimmings and the remnants of your holiday roast. If there’s not enough of one kind of poultry, buy two kinds and cook them together. If you should come across a nice beef or veal bone that you’ve frozen and forgotten, could you use it? Though my recipe does not call for it, here’s what my grandmother would tell you: “So the broth has stronger flavor? That’s good. Throw it in.”
Turn humble onions into this thrifty yet luxe pasta dinner.
This pasta has some really big energy about it. It’s so extra, it’s the type of thing you should be eating in your bikini while drinking a magnum of rosé, not in Hebden Bridge (or wherever you live), but on a beach on Mykonos.
Put these out at a gathering, and we guarantee you’ll be hearing rave reviews for a long time.
A flurry of fresh tarragon makes this speedy weeknight dish of seared cod and luscious, sun-colored pan sauce feel restaurant worthy.
A dash of cocoa powder adds depth and richness to the broth of this easy turkey chili.
Among the top tier of sauces is Indonesian satay sauce, because it is the embodiment of joy and life. In fact, this sauce is also trustworthy and highly respectful of whatever it comes into contact with—perhaps it is, in fact, the perfect friend?
Caramelized onions, melty Gruyère, and a deeply savory broth deliver the kind of comfort that doesn’t need improving.
This is what I call a fridge-eater recipe. The key here is getting a nice sear on the sausage and cooking the tomato down until it coats the sausage and vegetables well.