Cube Stock Quotes

One can try to evade the problem by adopting a ‘morality of intentions’. What’s important is what I intend, not what I actually do or the outcome of what I do. However, in a world in which everything is interconnected, the supreme moral imperative becomes the imperative to know. The greatest crimes in modern history resulted not just from hatred and greed, but even more so from ignorance and indifference. Charming English ladies financed the Atlantic slave trade by buying shares and bonds in the London stock exchange, without ever setting foot in either Africa or the Caribbean. They then sweetened their four o’clock tea with snow-white sugar cubes produced in hellish plantations – about which they knew nothing.

Demi-glace. There are a lot of ways to make demi-glace, but I recommend you simply take your already reduced meat stock, add some red wine, toss in some shallots and fresh thyme and a bay leaf and peppercorns, and slowly, slowly simmer it and reduce it again until it coats a spoon. Strain. Freeze this stuff in an ice-cube tray, pop out a cube or two as needed, and you are in business — you can rule the world. And remember, when making a sauce with demi-glace, don't forget to monter au beurre. Chervil,

The greatest crimes in modern history resulted not just from hatred and greed, but even more so from ignorance and indifference. Charming English ladies financed the Atlantic slave trade by buying shares and bonds in the London stock exchange, without ever setting foot in either Africa or the Caribbean. They then sweetened their four o'clock tea with snow-white sugar cubes produced in hellish plantations - about which they knew nothing.

In a world in which everything is interconnected, the supreme moral imperative becomes the imperative to know. The greatest crimes in modern history resulted not just from hatred and greed, but even more so from ignorance and indifference. Charming English ladies financed the Atlantic slave trade by buying shares and bonds in the London stock exchange, without ever setting foot in either Africa or the Caribbean. They then sweetened their four o'clock tea with snow-white sugar cubes produced in hellish plantations – about which they knew nothing.

Every dish I cooked exhumed a memory. Every scent and taste brought me back for a moment to an unravaged home. Knife-cut noodles in chicken broth took me back to lunch at Myeondong Gyoja after an afternoon of shopping, the line so long it filled a flight of stairs, extended out the door, and wrapped around the building. The kalguksu so dense from the rich beef stock and starchy noodles it was nearly gelatinous. My mother ordering more and more refills of their famously garlic-heavy kimchi. My aunt scolding her for blowing her nose in public. Crispy Korean fried chicken conjured bachelor nights with Eunmi. Licking oil from our fingers as we chewed on the crispy skin, cleansing our palates with draft beer and white radish cubes as she helped me with my Korean homework. Black-bean noodles summoned Halmoni slurping jjajangmyeon takeout, huddled around a low table in the living room with the rest of my Korean family. I drained an entire bottle of oil into my Dutch oven and deep-fried pork cutlets dredged in flour, egg, and panko for tonkatsu, a Japanese dish my mother used to pack in my lunch boxes. I spent hours squeezing the water from boiled bean sprouts and tofu and spooning filling into soft, thin dumpling skins, pinching the tops closed, each one slightly closer to one of Maangchi's perfectly uniform mandu.

I go to one of my favorite Instagram profiles, the.korean.vegan, and I watch her last video, in which she makes peach-topped tteok. The Korean vegan, Joanne, cooks while talking about various things in her life. As she splits open a peach, she explains why she gave up meat. As she adds lemon juice, brown sugar, nutmeg, a pinch of salt, cinnamon, almond extract, maple syrup, then vegan butter and vegan milk and sifted almond and rice flour, she talks about how she worried about whitewashing her diet, about denying herself a fundamental part of her culture, and then about how others don't see her as authentically Korean since she is a vegan. I watch other videos by Joanne, soothed by her voice into feeling human myself, and into craving the experiences of love she talks of and the food she cooks as she does. I go to another profile, and watch a person's hands delicately handle little knots of shirataki noodles and wash them in cold water, before placing them in a clear oden soup that is already filled with stock-boiled eggs, daikon, and pure white triangles of hanpen. Next, they place a cube of rice cake in a little deep-fried tofu pouch, and seal the pouch with a toothpick so it looks like a tiny drawstring bag; they place the bag in with the other ingredients. "Every winter my mum made this dish for me," a voice says over the video, "just like how every winter my grandma made it for my mum when she was a child." The person in the video is half Japanese like me, and her name is Mei; she appears on the screen, rosy cheeked, chopsticks in her hand, and sits down with her dish and eats it, facing the camera. Food means so much in Japan. Soya beans thrown out of temples in February to tempt out demons before the coming of spring bring the eater prosperity and luck; sushi rolls eaten facing a specific direction decided each year bring luck and fortune to the eater; soba noodles consumed at New Year help time progress, connecting one year to the next; when the noodles snap, the eater can move on from bad events from the last year. In China too, long noodles consumed at New Year grant the eater a long life. In Korea, when rice-cake soup is eaten at New Year, every Korean ages a year, together, in unison. All these things feel crucial to East Asian identity, no matter which country you are from.

Sauté, stirring regularly, the butter, onions, garlic, baby leaves, thyme, a pinch of salt and few grinds of pepper, until the onions are translucent. Meanwhile, remove the cord, membranes, and any clots from the placenta. Rinse it under cold water. Quarter it, set three quarters aside for another use, and add the remaining quarter to the sauté. Remove placenta when it is cooked through. Slice thin and set aside. Continue cooking the onions, stirring regularly, until they become brown.Add wine and simmer until the liquid evaporates and the onions lose their form. Add flour. Mix well. With a low flame, cook, stirring regularly, for 5 minutes. Add water, beef, placenta or chicken stock, and sliced placenta. Simmer for 10 minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste. To serve: preheat broiler. In oven-friendly serving bowls or pot, cover the hot soup with cubed sourdough bread and the bread with grated cheese. Broil until the cheese melts

He carefully poured the juice into a bowl and rinsed the scallops to remove any sand caught between the tender white meat and the firmer coral-colored roe, wrapped around it like a socialite's fur stole. Mayur is the kind of cook (my kind), who thinks the chef should always have a drink in hand. He was making the scallops with champagne custard, so naturally the rest of the bottle would have to disappear before dinner. He poured a cup of champagne into a small pot and set it to reduce on the stove. Then he put a sugar cube in the bottom of a wide champagne coupe (Lalique, service for sixteen, direct from the attic on my mother's last visit). After a bit of a search, he found the crème de violette in one of his shopping bags and poured in just a dash. He topped it up with champagne and gave it a swift stir. "To dinner in Paris," he said, glass aloft. 'To the chef," I answered, dodging swiftly out of the way as he poured the reduced champagne over some egg yolks and began whisking like his life depended on it. "Do you have fish stock?" "Nope." "Chicken?" "Just cubes. Are you sure that will work?" "Sure. This is the Mr. Potato Head School of Cooking," he said. "Interchangeable parts. If you don't have something, think of what that ingredient does, and attach another one." I counted, in addition to the champagne, three other bottles of alcohol open in the kitchen. The boar, rubbed lovingly with a paste of cider vinegar, garlic, thyme, and rosemary, was marinating in olive oil and red wine. It was then to be seared, deglazed with hard cider, roasted with whole apples, and finished with Calvados and a bit of cream. Mayur had his nose in a small glass of the apple liqueur, inhaling like a fugitive breathing the air of the open road. As soon as we were all assembled at the table, Mayur put the raw scallops back in their shells, spooned over some custard, and put them ever so briefly under the broiler- no more than a minute or two. The custard formed a very thin skin with one or two peaks of caramel. It was, quite simply, heaven. The pork was presented neatly sliced, restaurant style, surrounded with the whole apples, baked to juicy, sagging perfection.

Mark came home late one frozen Sunday carrying a bag of small, silver fish. They were smelts, locally known as icefish. He’d brought them at the store in the next town south, across from which a little village had sprung up on the ice of the lake, a collection of shacks with holes drilled in and around them. I’d seen the men going from the shore to the shacks on snowmobiles, six-packs of beer strapped on behind them like a half dozen miniature passengers. “Sit and rest,” Mark said. “I’m cooking.” He sautéed minced onion in our homemade butter, added a little handful of crushed, dried sage, and when the onion was translucent, he sprinkled n flour to make a roux, which he loosened with beer, in honor of the fishermen. He added cubed carrot, celery root, potato, and some stock, and then the fish, cut into pieces, and when they were all cooked through he poured in a whole morning milking’s worth of Delia’s yellow cream. Icefish chowder, rich and warm, eaten while sitting in Mark’s lap, my feet so close to the woodstove that steam came off my damp socks.

Buttered cabbage You have to like the taste of butter to enjoy this. Make sure to use a salted butter that you like on your toast. If it’s right for breakfast, it’s right for this. It takes about twenty-five minutes from start to finish. Serves four as a side dish INGREDIENTS Half a white cabbage 300ml stock (from cube, either vegetable or chicken, depending on whether you wish to keep it meat-free or not) 50g salted butter (double it if you fancy) Olive oil One clove of garlic (optional) Salt and pepper Remove the core of the cabbage and slice the rest up. You need to have reasonable-sized leaves a few centimetres across. Gently heat a tablespoon of the olive oil in a high-sided frying pan. After a minute or so, add the cabbage and move around to coat with the oil. Add the butter in two or three pieces. When it’s melted, stir the cabbage around to coat. Pour in 150ml of the stock, mix it all together, then turn the heat down so the liquid is on a gentle bubble. Don’t move the cabbage around. The liquid will thicken. When it has reduced down to a thick syrup, add another 150ml of the stock, stir and leave it to bubble away again. You want the leaves at the bottom to caramelise slightly in the reducing buttery liquor. At this point you can add slices of garlic to the broth, if you want to. When the liquor has thickened again, the cabbage will be done. Add a grind of black pepper. (Tip: a generous teaspoon of sesame oil will shift it a few thousand miles to the east.)

Powdered or cubed bouillon can give your cooking the same thin, repetitive backbeat that the Linn 9000 sequencer gave to Stock, Aitken and Waterman records.

Beef & Butternut Squash Stew 6 Servings   Ingredients: 2 tablespoons olive or vegetable oil 1 pound beef stew meat, cut into 1-inch cubes 1/4 cup of flour 3 carrots, chopped 1 onion, coarsely chopped 2 cloves garlic, minced 4 cups beef stock 1 (14.5-ounce) can whole tomatoes, crushed with your hands or a potato masher 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce (optional) 2 bay leaves 1 teaspoon dried thyme 1 small butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes 1 cup frozen or canned peas 1 teaspoon salt and, plus extra 1/2 teaspoon pepper, plus extra   Directions: 1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. 2. Heat oil over medium-high heat in a Dutch oven, or large skillet. While the oil is heating, blot the beef cubes with a paper towel to remove the moisture (this will allow them to get nice and brown in the pan). Next, season the beef cubes with 1 teaspoon of salt, and 1/2 teaspoon of pepper. Toss the seasoned beef cubes with the flour, and then brown the beef in the hot oil. 3. Remove the browned beef from the pot with a slotted spoon, and set aside on a plate. In the same pot, cook the carrots, onion and garlic over medium heat until they have a little color (about 10 minutes,) 4. If you used a Dutch oven to brown the meat and vegetables, go ahead and return the beef to the Dutch oven and toss with the vegetables. If you browned the meat and vegetables skillet, transfer everything to an oven-proof pot or casserole dish. 5. Add the beef stock, crushed tomatoes, Worcestershire sauce, bay leaves and thyme to the pot. Cover tightly and put into the oven for 90 minutes. 6. Remove from the oven and add the butternut squash. You will want the meat and vegetables to be submerged in liquid, so add a little more water or stock to the pot if needed. Give everything a stir, and cover, this time leaving the lid slightly ajar so that the steam can escape. Return to the oven for another 60 minutes, or until beef and squash are tender. 7. Remove from the oven and stir the peas into the hot stew. Allow the stew to cool for about 15 minutes before serving. Add salt and pepper, to taste.

Vigorously brown cubed chunks of lamb with diced bacon and onions; moisten with white wine and stock, season with salt, pepper, and nutmeg, and simmer for one hour. Remove lamb chunks. Beat lemon juice, egg yolks, and minced garlic, and whisk vigorously into stock without boiling. Season egg-lemon sauce again with salt, pepper, and nutmeg, and pour over lamb garnished with finely julienned lemon zest.

French Onion Soup Ingredients: 3 lbs onions, sliced into thin rings 2 bay leaves 1 tsp dried thyme 1/4 tsp salt 1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter, cut in half 1/4 cup all purpose flour 1/4 cup dry white wine 6 cups beef stock 1/2 day-old baguette 3 tsp butter Onion salt or powder 1 cup grated Gruyere cheese Directions: Cook onions, bay leaves, thyme, salt, and half the butter in a large, heavy pot over moderate heat, uncovered, stirring frequently until onions are very soft and deep golden brown, about 45 minutes. It’s okay if the bottom of the pan browns, as long as it doesn’t burn. The brown “stuff” on the bottom of the pan is the fond, and having lots of it will make your soup taste richer. If it seems as though it may start to brown, turn down the heat. Once the onions are browned and you have lots of fond, add flour and cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly. Add wine and cook 2 minutes, stirring constantly. Add stock and simmer, uncovered and stirring occasionally, for 30 minutes. While soup simmers, put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 350º F. Cut the baguette into large cubes and toss with the remaining butter and onion salt to taste. Arrange bread in a single layer on a large baking sheet and toast, turning once, until golden brown, about 15 minutes. They’ll be like large, slightly soft croutons. Remove from oven. Preheat broiler. Put 4 ovenproof soup crocks on a cookie sheet. Discard bay leaves from soup and divide soup among crocks, then top each crock with croutons. Sprinkle Gruyere to cover tops of crocks. Broil 4-5 inches from heat until cheese is melted and bubbly, 1-2 minutes.

The Connecticut River March 2, 1704 Temperature 10 degrees The Indians, it seemed, had paused here on their journey south from Canada to go hunting before the battle. Under the snow were stored the carcasses of twenty moose. Twenty! Eben had to count them himself before he could believe it, and even then, he could not believe it. Eben was no hunter. If he’d gotten one moose, it would have been pure luck. But for this war party to have killed twenty, dragged every huge carcass here so there would be feasting on the journey home--Eben was filled with respect as much as hunger. The Indians made several bonfires and built spits to cook entire haunches. They chopped the frozen moose meat, and Thorakwaneken and Tannhahorens sharpened dozens of thin sticks and shoved small cubes of moose meat onto these skewers. The women and children were each handed a stick to cook. The men were kept under watch, but at last their hands were freed and they too were allowed to eat. The prisoners were too hungry to wait for the meat to cook through and wolfed it down half raw. They ripped off strips for the littlest ones, who ate like baby birds: open mouths turned up, bolting one morsel, calling loudly for the next. When the captives had eaten until their stomachs ached, they dried stockings and moccasins and turned themselves in front of the flames, warming each side, while the Indians not on watch gathered around the largest bonfire, squatting to smoke their pipes and talk. The smell of their tobacco was rich and comforting. The wounded were put closest to the warmth, and hurt English found themselves sharing flames with hurt Mohawk and Abenaki and Huron. One of the Sheldon boys had frozen his toes. His Indian came over to look but shook his head. There was nothing to be done. Ebenezer Sheldon could limp to Canada or give up. “Guess I’ll limp,” said Ebenezer, grinning.

Carlita’s Homemade Minestrone Soup Recipe Ingredients: 1 tablespoon olive oil 1 lb. Italian sausage, sliced thin (we used turkey sausage) 1 cup diced yellow onion 3 cloves garlic, minced 2 cups finely shredded carrots 1 tsp. Italian seasoning 2 small zucchini, cubed 16-oz can diced tomatoes, undrained 16-oz can cut green beans (optional) 2 – 16 oz. containers of beef OR chicken stock 3 cups finely chopped cabbage 1/2 tablespoon salt 1/2 tsp. pepper 16-oz can Great Northern Beans, undrained Directions: Brown sausage, onion and garlic in oil. Stir in carrots and Italian spice blend. Cook for 5 minutes. Add zucchini, tomatoes, beef stock, cabbage, salt and pepper.  Bring soup to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer covered for 30 minutes. Add Great Northern beans and green beans, and cook another 20 minutes. Sprinkle parsley and Parmesan cheese over soup in serving bowls.

Interest comes before ability, so if you see stock-picking as a great game of skill and the stock market as a fascinating puzzle with more angles than a Rubik’s Cube, I’m with you. Conversely, if investment research seems like a chore and the stock market a game of chance—then an index fund is best for you. Index investors believe they are rewarded for taking overall market risk, while value investors think they are also paid for doing the opposite when others behave badly. If you aren’t interested in the question of what good and bad behavior might be, you won’t see it as a source of profit. It isn’t always either/or; some people find that owning an index fund and an actively managed fund and individual securities works for them.

HOUSEHOLD MAINTENANCE I’ve written the following list to help you with the maintenance tasks that will have the most impact on the longevity of your belongings. Every day Act fast to clean up spills on furniture or clothing. Update software as needed to avoid getting hacked. Every week Vacuum, dust, and clean the house and furniture. Condition regularly worn shoes. Clean clothes as necessary. Clean out the dishwasher filter. Every month Descale the coffee maker (see this page). Condition regularly used leather bags and shoes worn less often. Fix any garments in the mending pile. Every three months Oil wood cutting boards and spoons. Put frozen vinegar cubes in the garbage disposal. Check the smoke alarms. Check the water softener (if you have one). Every six months Deep clean the house. Turn and vacuum the mattress. Launder the pillows and duvet. Polish wood furniture. Deep clean the fridge. Clean the refrigerator coils. Put petroleum jelly on the fridge seals. Run the cleaning cycle of the dishwasher and washing machine. Inspect the gutters. Every year Take stock of the items in your life (see Chapter 8). Have any leather jackets professionally cleaned. Get the knives sharpened. Clean the filter in the kitchen hood fan. Check the grouting around the tiles in the kitchen and bathroom. Flush the hot-water system and have the boiler serviced. Inspect the roof and exterior of your home (best done in spring/summer). Fix any loose fixings or screws. Clean and consider repainting/resealing the exterior woodwork. Every two years Have a professional deep clean of your upholstery and carpets.

Cut the brisket into bite-size cubes. 2. Peel and chop the onions. 3. Melt the butter in a thick-bottomed pot or Dutch oven and sauté the onions until they are translucent (they should not brown). 4. Add the meat, bay leaves, and peppercorns, then pour the boiling chicken stock into the pot. It should just cover the meat and onions. 5. Cover and leave to simmer for about forty-five minutes. Peel the potatoes and cut them into bite-size pieces. 6. Put half of the potatoes on top of the meat and put the lid back on. 7. After fifteen minutes, stir the contents of the pot and add the rest of the potatoes—and a bit of extra chicken stock if needed. Simmer for another fifteen to twenty minutes on low heat, remembering to stir frequently so the stew doesn’t burn on the bottom. The aim is for the meat to be sitting in a potato mash but for there still to be whole pieces of tender potato. 8. Season with salt and pepper, and serve hot with a pat of butter, a generous amount of chives, one pickled beet per person, and rye bread. BRAISED PORK CHEEKS IN DARK BEER WITH POTATO-CELERIAC MASH This is one of my favorite winter dishes.

4 cups (940 ml) homemade Chicken Stock (see page 198) or ready-to-eat chicken broth with 1 envelope (1 tablespoon, or 7 g) plain gelatin added ½ cup (80 g) yellow onion, chopped ½ cup (65 g) carrot, chopped 1 tablespoon (4 g) minced fresh parsley ½ teaspoon minced fresh thyme 1 bay leaf ½ teaspoon black pepper 4 ounces (115 g) uncooked GF macaroni or small pasta shells 2 cups (about ¾ pound, or 340 g) cubed cooked turkey 1 cup (180 g) chopped tomatoes In a large sauce pot over medium heat, combine broth, onion, carrot, parsley, thyme, bay leaf, and pepper. Bring to a boil. Stir in macaroni, cover, and reduce heat. Simmer for about 6 minutes. Stir in turkey and tomatoes. Cook until heated through and macaroni is tender. Discard bay leaf before serving.

pappardelle with meat ragù pappardelle con rag`u di carne ragù 1 ounce dried porcini mushrooms (about 1 cup) ¾ cup dry white wine 1 pound pork butt 1 pound beef chuck 3 tablespoons olive oil 1 pound ground hot Italian sausage 2 cups diced Spanish onions (about 3 onions) 3 to 4 garlic cloves, minced Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 2 cups drained canned plum tomatoes, crushed About 8 cups Pomodoro Sauce (Chapter 1) 1 quart veal stock or chicken stock 1 quart chicken stock 1 teaspoon finely ground fennel seeds 1 bay leaf Pinch of dried oregano ¾ cup chopped fresh basil pappardelle 1 pound dried pappardelle assembly 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 2 tablespoons olive oil Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper ¼ cup chopped fresh basil 1 ounce Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, shaved 1 To prepare the ragù, soak the porcini mushrooms in the white wine in a nonreactive glass or ceramic bowl for 30 minutes. Lift the mushrooms from the wine and then strain the wine through a fine-mesh sieve or chinois. Roughly chop the hydrated mushrooms. 2 Trim the excess fat from the pork and beef and cut the meat into ½-inch cubes. 3 In a large saucepan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. When the olive oil is hot, cook the sausage, breaking it into chunks as you do, for 6 to 8 minutes, or until nicely browned. Using a slotted spoon, lift the sausage from the pan and set aside. Leave the fat in the pan. Add the beef and pork to the pan and cook, turning, for about 5 minutes, or until well browned. Lift the beef and pork from the pan and add to the sausage. 4 Add the onions to the pan and cook for about 5 minutes, or until lightly browned. Add the garlic and strained wine. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and cook for about 4 minutes, or until reduced by half. 5 Return the meat to the pan and season to taste with salt and pepper. Stir in the mushrooms, tomatoes, Pomodoro Sauce, stocks, fennel seeds, bay leaf, and oregano. Bring to a simmer over medium heat and then reduce the heat so that the mixture simmers gently, uncovered. 6 Cook at a gentle simmer, frequently skimming off any fat that rises to the top, for 3 hours, until the meat is very tender. Stir in

I learned to baby the rabbit in sour cream, tenderer than chicken and less forgiving of distraction, as well as the banosh the way the Italians did polenta. You had to mix in the cornmeal little by little while the dairy simmered - Oksana boiled the cornmeal in milk and sour cream, never water or stock - as it clumped otherwise, which I learned the hard way. I learned to curdle and heat milk until it became a bladder of farmer cheese dripping out its whey through a cheesecloth tied over the knob of a cabinet door; how to use the whey to make a more protein-rich bread; how to sear pucks of farmer cheese spiked with raisins and vanilla until you had breakfast. I learned patience for the pumpkin preserves - stir gently to avoid turning the cubes into puree, let cool for the runoff to thicken, repeat for two days. How to pleat dumplings and fry cauliflower florets so that half the batter did not remain stuck to the pan. To marinate the peppers Oksana made for my grandfather on their first day together. To pickle watermelon, brine tomatoes, and even make potato latkes the way my grandmother made them.