Saturday, January 22, 2005
Not long ago I read an interview with Dame Judi Dench in Time Out New York, in which she admitted that while she still loved the excitement of working in theater, she still felt a small compulsion to announce at the beginning of every performance: "Now, does anyone need to have a cough? Let's all do it now, let's get it out of the way...all together now!" It is in the spirit of Dame Judi's words that I say to everyone, "Now, does anyone need to have a snicker? Anyone want to let their inner 14-year-old boy come out to play? Any Beavis and Butt-head impulses? Let's all do it now, on one...two...three..."
Dear friends, it is time to share the recipe for cock-a-leekie.
Cock-a-leekie soup
(makes 1 gallon of soup; feeds at least a dozen)
1 capon, approximately 8-12 pounds
2 pieces beef shin (approximately 1 pound total)
6 leeks, white and light green parts only
1 pound unpitted prunes
water to cover (about 16 cups)
salt and pepper to taste
Clean and slice half the leeks and tie them up in cheesecloth. Place the bundle of leeks, the beef and the capon (try to keep the bird in one piece if you can, but if it won't fit into your stockpot, then remove the wings and legs from the rest of the bird) into a 20-cup stockpot. Carefully put the pot over a medium flame and bring slowly to the boil. Skim the foam from the surface of the broth and cook slowly for three hours, skimming foam and fat as necessary. After the first 90 minutes of cooking, add the prunes and continue to cook.
When the meat is done, remove it from the stock. Remove the chicken and beef from their bones and remove any visible fat. Chop the beef and slice the chicken; set aside. Strain the stock, discard the leek bundle and the prunes (you can save the prunes to serve with the soup, but they will have given up their best flavor to the broth, so I never bother with serving them), and skim as much fat from the surface as you can.
Pour the broth to a clean pot and return it to the fire. Add salt and pepper to taste. Clean the rest of the leeks and chop finely. When the broth comes to a boil, add the leeks and let cook until soft. Return the chicken and beef to the pot and heat through.
You can eat this right now, or you can consign it to the fridge and eat it tomorrow, when it will taste even better. You can hold back the chicken and make chicken salad with it, and have the broth separately, like a consomme. You can add gnocchi, or pastina, or spaetzle, or barley, which would probably be the most correct grain to add. Myself, I'm a fan of a starchless cock-a-leekie, and so I keep the gnocchi in the freezer and the pastina in the pantry. Any way you eat it, you will be reminded that sometimes simpler really is better, and that any soup that evokes so much flavor from so few ingredients is the food of geniuses and kings.
Mmmm… that sounds soooo good. If I ask the local butcher for beef shins, will he know what I want? I’ve never bought shins before… or a whole capon either. This should be fun!
Ace. We used to eat this dish (a rather less glorious version) and snicker with our mouths full and have great laughs telling our friends what we ate to their horror! Now I think I will invent a picture-to-actual-food machine for your “return to baking” post… MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!
That sounds AMAZING. I’m going to ferret out some of them there beef shins and see if I can pull this together… Thanks for the inspiration!
Somehow all that boiling reminds me in the scene in Tompopo where she learns that the secret to perfect stock lies in bringing the temperature to about 1/2 a degreee below boiling and holding it there never allowing an actual boil for 4-5 hours. When you have a couple spare moments could you please whip up two pots and run a double-blind taste test on the cock-a-leekie and tell me if it’s true or not.
Thanks for your anticipated cooperation.)
Ahh, ‘mouse, your faith in my double-blind taste-testing skills is a touching thing to see, it really is. 
I ended up posting this last night after about 1/2 hour of computer trouble; I was a bit rushed and as a result I didn’t really give the best directions. What I do is bring this to the point where it *just* boils; then I pull the pot off the heat, turn the heat down and put the pot back on the heat. There is enough residual heat in the pot to keep everything simmering, but the pot never comes back to a full rolling boil. This is more of an issue with stock than with broth; boiling makes the stock greasy and cloudy, and what you want is a clear stock. But whether you’re making stock or broth, it’s always good to keep things as hot as possible while avoiding the full boil.
Ahhhh, thanks, Bak. That explains everything. Normally you’re as sexy and perfect as Tampopo’s udon. (my spelling error above, sorry)
I should have known that any bitterness or cloudiness in your instructions came not from carelessness or a too-hot pot but from the evils of the electronic age.
Yet, since it is that very computer that brings you to me, I will forgive it this once.
I knew that a capon was some sort of fowl—so I looked it up and discovered that it is a male chicken. Is it crucial that it be a capon, or will any chicken do? I realize that it is vital for the name, but what about the taste?
ann, any bird, cock or hen, will work. But I’m blushing now, because several people have asked me what a capon is, and you’re right, it is a male chicken, but...oh, heck, I’ll just get to the point. A capon is a castrated rooster. Castrating the bird makes it plumper and bigger-breasted. Capon used to be a popular alternative to turkey for Christmas roasts in Britain, but the UK has now banned the castration of poultry.
Capons are legal in the US, but tricky to find. I was very surprised to see one in my supermarket, but it had been deep-frozen, and I have a thing about frozen poultry, mainly that I try to avoid it whenever possible. The stand at the farmer’s market where I get my poultry sells something called a “bull moose” capon, which is what I used for my soup. Mine weighed about 12 1/2 pounds. I asked the farmer who sells me my eggs if he sold capons as well, and he told me he sells them much smaller, around 4 pounds. I’m wondering if that’s the size of bird that most traditional Scottish recipes use. A 12-pound bird is definitely an extravagance in a soup like this, but it makes really, really wonderful broth.
I’d say if you can’t find a capon, try to find the biggest stewing bird you can find. If all else fails, just pick up the a whole bird or two. Your soup will still be superb.
Ummmmmmmm
I don’t know why, but for some reason I find this recipe very erotic…
Please please Bakerina… could you just drizzle a little on my belly… heheh
Alright!
I’ll just eat it like a normal person!
sheesh
*smooch*
You’re a lovely, lovely grrrrl!
Ohhhh, it’s a Demon Queen visitation! I’m so pleased! I’ve been trying to leave a comment on your site (which, in fairness to my other dear friends, I should advise is terrific but absolutely, positively not safe for work!), but I’m having terrible trouble with my laptop this weekend, and I keep crashing whenever I try to leave a comment. (The problem is definitely on my end, not yours!)
So thank you, beautiful and righteous one, for visiting and leaving such a blushworthy comment. But really, you don’t want this drizzled on your belly, because it should be served hot—not sexy candle-wax hot, but be-careful-not-to-burn-your-palate hot. If you want the other kind of hot, well, we’ve got plenty of that here, too. 
Sugar Poppy, DQ went in search of your “Leaky Cock Soup” over at the Party and,...well...it’s just not pretty. Would ya’ please just have Ewan bring her a bowlful. Thanks.
Also, do ya’ have a “Parent Guard” set on your laptop? Or a V-chip? Just a thought. Just. A. Thought…
Thanks for the inspiration. I will make this one day, guaranteed. I don’t know when this will happen, but happen it will. Maybe tomorrow.
Well, as you know, my local butcher had neither capon nor beef shins. (He had the good grace to be embarrassed about having to say no to me twice.) So I had to make do with a couple of 3.5-lb. fryers and 3/4 lb. of short ribs.
The resulting stock was delicious, and quite strong. So strong, in fact, that I added a little water after removing all of the chicken.
BTW, Did you really get a 12-lb capon and a gallon of water into a 20-CUP pot? My 6-quart stockpot was almost full with the smaller birds and less water. I set the prunes in one at a time to make sure I didn’t overfill the pot.
Anyway, a photo’s up at my place. The smaller birds made smaller shreds of chicken, so it’s less elegant than yours. Still, mmm mmm good.
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Mmmm… that sounds soooo good. If I ask the local butcher for beef shins, will he know what I want? I’ve never bought shins before… or a whole capon either. This should be fun!