REMEMBER TO BOIL THE BONES OF THE CRITTERS YOU FUCKED UP FOR THE HOLIDAYS.
RESPECT THEIR BODIES BY CONSUMING EVERYTHING!
ALSO, ITS A DAMN SHAME TO THROW AWAY THAT TASTY TASTY MARROW AND FATTY SKIN.
SOUP SEASON DEMANDS BROTH!
ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS TAKE THE CARCASS OF YOUR MEAL, TEAR IT APART WITH YOUR MIGHTY CLAWS, AND DUMP IT IN A POT WITH ENOUGH WATER TO COVER THE REMAINS.
FAT, SKIN, CONNECTIVE TISSUE, BITS OF MEAT YOU MISSED? IT ALL GOES IN THE FUCKING POT!
BOIL FOR ABOUT AN HOUR, AND WATCH AS THE WATER BREAKS DOWN THAT CARCASS INTO THE MOST MOUTHWATERING BROTH YOU EVER DID LAY YOUR EYES ON.
IF YOU HAVE A TOOL TO BREAK OPEN THE BONES, TRIUMPH! THE MARROW TRULY IS A SCRUMPTIOUS TREAT, AND MEAT-EATING WARRIORS SHOULD ENJOY THE FLAVOR~
(Remember to use a lid, or to periodically add more water as it evaporates off. I use a fork to scrape the last meaty bits off before taking out large bones (like the sternum) and replacing it with other big bones, so I can boil down everything. This is unnecessary if you have a huge-ass pot and can throw the entire fucking thing in)
I hopped around my mother’s kitchen, blowing kisses to the sky, trying to hug the air with my arms. Cappelletti, meaning small hats in Italian, were special. They appeared but rarely on our table and news of their arrival caused in me a joyous delirium.
My mother didn’t make them. The cappelletti arrived at our house, without warning, in a re-used plastic shopping bag. They were frozen through, with crystals of ice clinging to them, made either by my grandfather or a friend of his, or a wife of a friend of his. It was never clear. They were mysterious.
Most nights we had a pasta course or soup to start our family meal. The cappelletti, small crescent-shaped ravioli, folded at the corners, were served in a simple dark broth made with chicken and beef bones. The pasta shell was so thin that a wrong move of the spoon would pierce it, spilling the slick, soft, perfectly salty meat inside.