In Pursuit of Clarity

I stood at the stove stirring a pot of what would become a simple, clear consomme, the most elegant of soups, to serve to a friend with a cold. While she would not be able to smell or taste the broth, she would certainly be able to feel it and see it and, I hoped, get better because of it.

I have learned from experience that it takes about 20 minutes of stirring to make consomme. Of all the ingredients in the pot, the time it takes to do the cooking, time removed from a busy life, is probably the most extravagant. But it is also the only ingredient unique to each cook.

I don’t know about you, but when I am stirring a pot with one hand, there isn’t much I am able to do with the other. I have to watch what I am doing. So rather than being a mindless task, stirring a pot presents an opportunity for mindfulness, for calm reflection, a time to let thoughts go where they might.

As I stirred the pot I thought about a friend who had died not long ago in Los Angeles. I had known her for half her life when she succumbed, at 50, to breast cancer after a long, determined struggle. I had tried to go see her, but she had been reluctant about that to the end. So we talked regularly on the phone for all of her last year, and I wrote letters as often as I could, express-mailing the last one to be sure it reached her in time. But I would have liked to have done something more. I think I would have liked to have cooked for her, much as I was now cooking for another friend.

I spent 20 minutes stirring and remembering. We have, in the end, so little we can truly offer each other, at best an ephemera of good intentions. In cooking, in taking the time to prepare a dish for someone, there is opportunity to sprinkle the best of intentions into the pot.

Consomme is a wonderful dish to prepare in this way because it starts as something of a primal, murky soup but ends in a clarity of metaphysical dimension through some of the most charming magic possible in the kitchen.

*

I started with a rich chicken stock that cooled in the refrigerator overnight. The next day I carefully removed every possible trace of fat, any of which prevents a successful outcome. For each quart of stock, add an egg white and the crushed eggshell to the pot. I always throw in an extra egg white for the pot.

Madeleine Kamman, in “In Madeleine’s Kitchen” (Atheneum: 1984), has a lovely recipe that brings a hint of Chinese mysticism to the broth. To two quarts of stock she adds one teaspoon Lapsang Souchong tea, one teaspoon coriander seeds, 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger, the requisite egg whites and three tablespoons dry Sherry.

Heat the stock over a medium flame, reserving two cups of cold stock to mix with the egg whites and crushed shells and the rest of the ingredients, whisking up a froth. Then whisk this into the heating stock. Continue whisking over medium heat until the stock comes to a boil (about 20 minutes), preventing the egg whites from separating out. As the stock approaches a boil, the color changes from dark and murky to milky, and the stock begins to feel thick against the whisk. Finally, the egg white and shell and any impurities in the stock rise to the surface to form a thick, coagulated, gray mass that the literature calls a “raft.”

Simmer the stock for 30 minutes, poking holes in the raft to let out the steam. If it shows signs of sinking, increase the heat. At the end of 30 minutes you may be able to lift out the raft in its entirety. But fear not if it breaks up, because you will want to pour the consomme through several thicknesses of cheesecloth or through a clean dish towel. Bring the consomme back up to peak heat without boiling, then ladle into a deep soup dish over whichever ingredients you fancy. These could include finely chopped scallions, fresh peeled shrimp, finely julienned and blanched carrot and ginger and green or yellow pepper.

Let whimsy be your guide, knowing that whatever you place in the soup dish will be framed and highlighted by a broth that is startlingly clear and shiny. You can look into a steaming bowl of consomme and see reflected back the cook’s best intentions. You can taste the time it has taken out of a cook’s life.