I'll remind her of this as I finally throttle her....
Sort of the other way around. Ish.

Back in the ultra-carnivore hunter-gatherer days, come the end of the season I would have a fair selection of God's Creatures nestling in my freezer, and I would hold a mass scoffing session for my nearest and dearest chums to clear it out.

There could be pheasant, partridge, venison, bunny wabbit, pigeon, trespassers, you name it and it was lurking in the icy embrace, sometimes looking rather surprised. Anyway, when you have assorted portions of cute lickle animals, the easiest way to clear the decks is with the famous game casserole.

Now to do this properly, each ingredient has to be treated differently, as they all have different cooking characteristics. Some need marinading in good red wine with juniper berries and peppercorns, some lightly browned in olive oil with a smidge of garlic, some just need a quick rub of sea salt and a light touch of dried herbs to be all ready.

The seasonings must be assembled in their savoury ranks, awaiting their turn in the masterwork. Fresh herbs, exotic spices, pungent and nose-tickling ingredients by the dozen, lovingly collected, and each with it's own special role to play. A bottle of the finest wine was decanted to breath the air, a bottle of Chateau Special Offer was opened to keep the cook interested, and a can of posh catfood to keep the hairy scavengers busy gobbling away at their end of the kitchen. Planning, see?

And the stock. Aah, the stock. The crucial element, where flavours develop over the long, cool cooking process, where the consistency thickens and concentrated the savour,aroma and all-round 'fuck-me-that's-good'ness.

A previous meal had involved a juicy, tender leg of venison, lovingly removed from an unexpectedly deceased Muntjac Deer (unexpected from his point of view, that is). The bone, filled with rich, savoury marrow was reserved as the base for the stock of emperors. A handful of fresh bayleaves, bouquet garni, redcurrants, juniper berries, and other things to esoteric to mention splashed merrily into the pot. Flavoursome veggies, fine full-bodied wine, organic garlic, LBV port to name but a few joined them. And then it was consigned to the flames, for many hours. Cooked, reduced, strained through muslin, re-vitalised with more liquid, reduced again until we had a stock so good that a Michelin Inspector would have taken it home and gone to bed with it. Perfection.
Just let it cool off while I have a refreshing flagon or two, and then it's cooking time. Rubbing my hands with glee, muttering 'this is going to be fan-bloody-tastic', I retired to take the weight off my plates for a few well deserved minutes, before resuming cooking for ten hungry bods.

And then She happened. She who must be ignored, the Domestic Obergruppenfuhrer, the Boss, the Light of My Life.

She decided to help.

Said help involved doing the washing up, so I would have lots of uncluttered space to complete the culinary miracle, while she laid the table, re-decorated the house, laid a tiled floor and all the other little things that are apparently essential when receiving guests into one's abode.

I ambled back into the kitchen, to be greeted by everything clean and shiny, all the tools racked and gleaming, and all the pans clean and......

Wait one second.

ALL the pans clean and shiny?

"WHERE is the stock?"

"You mean that dirty water........."

Steely eyed, I maintained my semi-psychotic, verging on hysterical gaze, as with one hand I reached out for the bottle, and took a steadying slurp. *Gak* Fuck, wine vinegar. This time I looked, and managed to get soothing alcohol aboard.

"That DIRTY WATER, dear was the stock that I have been preparing for, for AAAAAARRRRRRGGGHHH" I Arrrrrrgghed.

My gaze now flickered between my dear, rather worried wife, the handy knife/dismembering tool rack, and the fucking stock cubes.

Stock cubes.

*Weeps*



I no longer kill the Bambis, so she missed out on the one and only, never to be repeated opportunity.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 14:31, 17 replies)

Oh, the animality
I weep, osok, I weep.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 15:13, closed)

*salivates*
like a lion that's been let loose in a room full of fattened, handicapped zebras.

Have a sympathy click.
( Moey, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 15:45, closed)

You sound quite the Chef!
In a Hugh Fearnley type of way (Thats a good thing btw). Made me hungry just reading your description of game casserole and the stock.
NomNomNom.

Fair play to ye
( LemonEntryMyDearWatson This time, Moriarty, the hand is on the other foot, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 15:53, closed)

NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
That is one of the saddest tales I've read on b3ta.com. I applaud your self-control and weep uncontrollably for your loss.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 16:06, closed)

PS
Have a click, naturally.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 16:07, closed)

I made duck stock
last night. I treated it as one of my own.

I feel your pain.
(Himjim died a little more inside on, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 16:38, closed)

Nooooo! not the stock.
I would have cried real tears.

Stock cubes...shudder...
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Tue 23 Sep 2008, 16:51, closed)

...
Couldn't you have used Boullion cubes?



EDIT: I just found out boullion cubes are stock cubes.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 17:20, closed)

I didn't know
you could eat muntjac?
Kudos for eating the bastard flying arsehats that are woodpigeon, why they are attracted to car windscreens we maybe shall never know.
Clickety clickety!
(dragondracus, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 17:20, closed)

Munties
Are the tastiest deer in this country. Nomnomnomnom.

Mind you, they duck well, which can lead to your companion getting a .243 ALMOST up the arse.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 19:42, closed)

Dirty water
Perhaps your stock was not as good as you would like to believe, I mean, no one is that stupid. Are they?
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 17:38, closed)

Yes
Blonde. 'Nuff said.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 19:30, closed)

piss off.
i'm blonde, but i still know the value of stock.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Wed 24 Sep 2008, 0:45, closed)

Mmmm.
You made me hungry, and I'm a vegetarian!

Is this a uniquely-female thing, or do some guys have the same "steam in and do something with someone else's stuff without asking first" mentality that your wife shows here, and half the mothers showed in the QOTW all about star wars figures and comics being thrown out?
(Musuko, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 18:01, closed)

My other half
Always interferes if I'm cooking, so much so that when she does, I just walk out of the kitchen, leaving everything to burn or whatever. When she calls out that its all burning, I then inform her that as she was taking over, feel free to carry on.
( Duke Of Belmsford has got 99 records, but Jay-Z ain't one, Tue 23 Sep 2008, 19:15, closed)

without a good stock
the meal cannot be as good. EVER. stock cubes are the poorest of substitutes.
i shall not click, however, as i am blonde and, according to you, too dim to understand the concept ;)
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Wed 24 Sep 2008, 0:46, closed)

*CLICK*
I feel your pain.
( DUMBLONDE is a rubber lover girl, Wed 24 Sep 2008, 16:06, closed)