Of Smoke and Burned Sugar

 I am in the kitchen and, as I put things away, wash in the sink what needs to be washed by hand, and inspect the contents of my pantry, I get lost in familiar tasks as usual, gathering all the  baggies from the freezer and starting the weekly pot of broth with the chicken bones, the carrot peelings, and the myriad bits of other veggies, adding as I go parsley and lovage I gather from the herb garden, some garlic cloves and an onion, two bay leaves, and sea salt and peppercorns. Soon the heavenly smell fills the kitchen, and I put on the stove a small saucepan with the makings for lemon syrup.
Finnegan the cat is running crazily around, scaring Louis the chihuahua who takes refuge in my chair in the library. I go there to see what’s going on, then take Louis outside for a little walk in the garden. Coming back through the kitchen, we are greeted by a strident alarm, and a kitchen full of smoke. It’s the burned syrup! Cheryl is frantically trying to stop the alarm, as ADT is calling me and I try to talk to them through the pandemonium. Cat and dog scamper, as they hate the noise of the alarm and I try to explain to ADT that it is a false alarm, just smoke, no fire, please don’t send the fire department. But in the chaos, we hear the siren of the approaching truck. The alarm is still on and the kitchen full of smoke, as five firemen approach and then invade the house.

 The alarm will not stop until all the smoke is gone, so the firefighters go around the whole house, opening windows, and they bring in an enormous fan to clear the air in the kitchen. The alarm finally stop and one of the firemen goes upstairs to locate the animals. As we all gather on the grass, we recognize Bill from the Sewer District, with whom we got well acquainted during the epic sewage pipes’ installation months ago. I joke with him about a chef making sugar syrup and needing the fire department. Remembering the cookies I baked for him and his crew during the few months of the sewage ordeal, I recalled the madeleines I had made earlier, and we distributed the cookies around to show our appreciation, this time to the fire crew.
The day is saved, the tiny saucepan with its hat of black calcination sits in the grass where I have brought it earlier, the fire truck departs, and Cheryl mentions we will need to up our donation to the fire department this year.
 The weekly broth, which survived the days’ drama, can be vegetarian or chicken broth. 

Depending on the contents of the freezer that day, I may throw in my large soup pot a chicken carcass if I have one, and all the vegetable peelings and little bits saved over the preceding week of cooking, including any leftovers (potatoes, carrots, greens, onions, garlic, green beans, peas, asparagus). The one thing I never use in my broths is any member of the cabbage family, and I reserve beets for borscht broth. I then gather herbs from the garden, usually the French “bouquet garni” bay leaves, thyme, lovage (which add its céleri flavor) and parsley. I then cover the whole with water, adding what looks to be missing, sometimes a couple of carrots, a stray leek, an onion or two, sea salt, peppercorns, and always powdered dried mushrooms for umami. I let the pot gently simmer for a couple of hours, the delicious aroma spreading through the house, then drain and freeze the broth in deli containers. I use this broth as a start for many sauces, stews and soups, sometimes drinking a bowl of it for a quick lunch.
For a versatile lemon syrup, put in a saucepan a cup and a half of lemon juice, a cup and a half of sugar (I use raw sugar), and the zest of two lemons, without the pith, and finely minced. Simmer until the sugar has dissolved and the liquid becomes syrupy, coating a cold spoon. Do not abandon for any reason whatsoever. Keep stirring, and when syrup has formed, drain the zest and bottle. Keep refrigerated, and use in iced tea, on ice cream, on pound cake and in fruit salads.

Bon appétit, and safe cooking. And a big thank you to the Norfolk Fire Department!