Thursday, October 11, 2012


I'm having a wearying week, and so to forestall the descent into despair let us ponder gravy.

This is me making gravy during Thanksgiving 2010. Check out those pan drippings from the turkey. Damn! The pot behind had the giblets and neck that I simmered with onions, carrots, etc. all day for a stock. The roux was made with tons of butter and Wondra flour, as mom used to do it.
And the finished product. Gravy, cast iron skillet, wooden spoon. Awesome. I can carry on one more day.


  1. Lookin' good. I never use to like gravy until I started making it myself. Now I love it.

  2. I always liked my mom's gravy, but she seemed to have a slightly out-of-control technique, like always on the edge of burning the roux and then just letting it cook too long ... but it was always right. It took me a while to understand that what she was doing was right. She has no theory of cooking, but real sense of how certain things should be done. This is where my analytical side that wants a theory of cooking FIRST has been helped to take what looked like chances -- higher heat, lots of spattering and smoke, and then letting things cook.

    Having said that, she fell into the margarine rut in the 90s and had to push her back into using butter when I was home for mashed potatoes and gravy. Making gravy with margarine is an uphill and losing battle, to my taste.