Taking Stock

Last night my sweet cousin was over for supper. When I was pulling the meat out of the freezer I spotted several bags of frozen chicken stock that I wanted to give to her. Whenever I do a chicken in the crockpot, I make stock after. It smells fantastic, is practically free, tastes great and Way Cooler won't touch it with a ten foot pole. So, I give it away.

Now in Way Cooler's defense, it doesn't taste much like the stock from the carton. And he's a carton and package man. I just recently realized that his palate just doesn't really love homemade stuff. It only took me fourteen years to figure this out.

Because I am cheap I have tried making homemade marinara sauce, homemade french dressing, homemade pickles and homemade bruschetta. I've been politely asked to just buy it next time on all counts. I finally clued in that maybe it's not me, it's him. The boy don't do homemade.

And for those of you wondering, I don't think he's planning to re-set his palate anytime soon.

End meandering tangent.

So, I pulled out the stock with full intention to take it off of the top of the freezer and put it in a bag and give it to someone who would truly appreciate it. All FOUR freezer bags with four cups in each. Unfortunately I am very easily distracted. As just illustrated by above tangent. I must have seen something shiny and never went back to the freezer.

AND it turns out, that there were small holes in two of the bags.

Yep.

There were eight cups of chicken stock puddled on my basement floor this morning. NEVER in my life have I been more grateful for an unfinished basement. Washing a puddle of stock off of a painted concrete floor is a heck of a lot easier than getting it out of carpet.

I went through an entire jumbo roll of Bounty. Yes, I know I should have used a shamwow or a towel, but at 6:45 in the morning, the only liquid I am in the mood to deal with is a homemade Chai tea Latte. I just wanted the greasy mess gone. I promise, as soon as the ground thaws I'll plant a tree or something.

So, now my basement still smells like Swiss Chalet and my cousin doesn't get her stock but that problem of what to blog about? Well, that was nicely solved.