Chicken Stock
Stock used to scare the hell out of me. Not literally. It never chased me through the woods with a bloody cleaver, or harangued me on the Second Coming of Christ. No, my fear of stock was purely practical. Unlike frying an egg, say, or making a curry, it seemed to involve vast, industrial vats over-flowing with centuries of serious culinary know-how. I saw it as a professional process, mastered by moustachioed French chefs, their hands riddled with sca