Media Platforms Design Team
Fat, as we all know, is not only the fundament of flavor; it is, at least in the case of meat, flavor itself. Fat is behind mouthfeel, gratification, the ability to take flavor, and pretty much everything else good about meat. The open secret of meat is that the muscle tissue is pretty much just along for the ride; as one philosophically-minded meathead once put it, "the fat is the meat, and the meat is the vegetable."
This fact of life was underscored by the publication, a few weeks ago, of Michael Ruhlman's new cookbook, The Book of Schmaltz. Schmaltz, of course, is chicken fat, and Jews like myself have a mixed feelings about the stuff. It's ghetto and greasy, and its univeral application in Jewish homes something a dirty secret for the second generation. But man, is it good! Better than duck fat, better than lard, better than tallow or suet or lard. It took a genteel goy like Ruhlman to reintroduce it in the conversation, but I'm glad he did. "The old attitude," he told me, "was exactly why it took a gentile to elevate this humble fat which has been maligned and denigrated." I will second that. My grandmother's soup was always armed with "gold coins," the little circlets of fat that floated at its surface; no latke can ever be called authentic that isn't cooked in any medium that isn't at least 50% chicken fat.
The Book of Shmaltz is filled with such recipes, many of which were lost to history, like Egg Salad with Gribenes (chicken cracklings), Derma Kishke (stuffing sausages), and Potato Kugel (basically a giant potato latke.) There are also a bunch of Frenchified recipes, like chicken confit, rillettes, and pate de "foie gras," which are actually more Jewish than Ruhlman could be expected to realize.
Here is Ruhlman's schmaltz recipe, which I recommend highly.
Ingredients
• Skin and fat from 8 chicken thighs (or 2 cups/450 grams miscellaneous reserved chicken skin and fat)
• ¼ cup/60 milliliters water
• 1 Spanish onion, cut into medium dice
Method
1. Cook the chopped chicken fat and skin in a small amount of water to begin the rendering at a gentle temperature.
2. Once the water and the moisture in the fat and skin have cooked off, the fat can rise above 212°F/100°C and the browning can begin.
3. When the skin is lightly browned and plenty of fat has been rendered, add the chopped onion.
4. Be careful not to overcook the fat. It should remain clear and yellow, not brown with an overly roasted flavor.
5. The browned skin and onion, called gribenes, are a delicious by-product of making schmaltz.
6. Strain the fat and reserve the gribenes. The schmaltz is ready to use, to refrigerate for up to a week or, to freeze. The gribenes should also be refrigerated or frozen.
Yield: ½ cup/120 grams schmaltz and ½ cup/60 grams gribenes
The only thing to bear in mind is that you need to use a good chicken for this. I use Bell & Evans for this as for all my chicken needs. It's the best. (Disclosure: They were a sponsor of Meatopia.) Also, your kitchen will smell like chicken fat. So will you. And the stuff with be viscous and opaque at room temperature — though still pourable. I keep mine in a pancake syrup dispenser.
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