Taking stock

Although I read strict locavorean accounts with interest and enjoyment, and, obviously, derive a great deal of pleasure from obtaining local ingredients, I’m not a strict locavore myself by any stretch of the imagination. And when offered large quantities of delicious food that I honestly wouldn’t buy myself, I gratefully accept. Is this hypocrisy, opportunism, or good manners and fellowship? I’m sure it’s a mixture of all three. As I’ve got older, I’ve also got more comfortable with shades of grey in my beliefs and behavior (which might surprise those who met me, say, in college.) I’ve taken to heart that “the best is the enemy of the good,” and I’m happy to celebrate incremental improvements without bemoaning the fact that the whole corrupt system has not yet been dug up root and branch.

This is, perhaps, overthinking the poultry stock I’m looking forward to. Ms J had a large party over last night for teriyaki chicken. Now, I say “teriyaki chicken,” and it sounds so innocent. The chicken comes in a dinner, with rice, tsukemono, an orange half, and baked manju, all lovingly prepared by hand by the volunteers at the Mountain View buddhist temple, as these dinners are a major fundraiser. But Ms J goes so far beyond these dinners that they become a sort of accessory to the evening, a mere excuse for the real business, which this year featured tuna and avocado, salsa, crackers, spinach salad, four kinds of sashimi, Chinese roast duck and pork, seaweed salad, and chocolate mousse cake and ice cream. It’s a good thing that the teriyaki chicken dinners are packed to go (in styrofoam containers) and that I had already brought a cooler along to take my meat home from Avedano’s.

I collected duck and chicken bones from the party, and, when the chicken here is all et up, I’ll boil them with an onion, a couple carrots, some garlic cloves and peppercorns, and be happy to have delicious chicken stock on hand. The truth is, I don’t buy chicken anymore, because I don’t have a source for the kind of chicken I feel comfortable buying. TLC Ranch switched from broilers to eggs, because Jim Dunlop got tired of spending so much time killing chickens, and I can’t blame him. If I find another source, I’ll probably stock my freezer with several whole chickens (and have to get much better at taking them apart, butchering class notwithstanding.) But for now, I’ll be grateful to accept my windfall of meat and bones, and accept, too, that it’s not a perfect reflection of my beliefs, but is a perfect reflection of generosity and friendship.

Thank you, Ms J!