It’s hard not to start cooking with Guinness around St. Patrick’s Day. It is a very versatile brew, lending itself to sweet and savory recipes. And as the old ads say, it makes you stronger! I love this simple glaze and think thick slices of Irish bacon are the perfect vehicle for it. Irish bacon is similar to Canadian bacon and more like ham than our “streaky” bacon, so a couple of slices makes for a nice change at dinner, or breakfast. I find it at natural food and upscale markets, but sliced Canadian bacon or thickly sliced ham will work as well.
Serve this sticky bacon with a large portion of Colcannon, which is traditionally served with a large pat of butter, but a drizzle of this glaze over the top is pretty good too. Or pair it with Champ, if cabbage is not your thing.
This recipe makes more glaze than you will need, but it will keep, cooled in an airtight jar, for a week or so and can be used to glaze grilled chicken, burgers or a meatloaf, so it’s nice to have around to extend the St. Patrick’s Day celebration.
Guinness Glazed Irish Bacon
1 (12-ounce) bottle Guinness stout
1 ¼ up light brown sugar
¼ cup honey
½ teaspoon English mustard powder
8 ounces sliced Irish bacon or Canadian bacon (about 8 slices)
Pour the Guinness into a high-sided saucepan and leave until the foam settles. Stir in the brown sugar, honey and mustard powder and bring to a boil over medium high heat. Watch carefully and stir frequently as this can easily boil over. Just when it hits the boil, reduce the heat to medium -low and cook, stirring often, until the glaze is reduced by half., about 20 – 25 minutes. Remove from the heat. It will thicken a little as it cools.
Cook the bacon slices in a non-stick skillet over medium-high heat until just beginning to brown, flip and brown the opposite side. Spoon about 1 Tablespoon of glaze over each slice and cook a few more minutes until the bacon is nicely glazed and syrupy. Serve immediately, with a little extra glaze spooned over if you like.
Guinness Glazed Irish Bacon and Colcannon
Colcannon is a traditional Irish dish that showcases the true brilliance of that culture’s rustic cuisine. Simple, staple ingredients transformed into something all together luscious and comforting. Mashed potatoes and cabbage are combined with a touch of leek and lots of rich dairy to create a dish that will fell like a welcome home, even if, like me, you’ve never been to Ireland.
I like to use napa cabbage because I find it slightly sweeter and milder, but classic green cabbage or savoy cabbage works just as well, and give a more traditional green speckle to the dish. Colcannon is a great side dish to lamb or beef, particularly corned beef for St. Patrick’s Day.
Colcannon (Irish Mashed Potatoes and Cabbage)
2 large russet potatoes (about 2 pounds)
½ head of napa cabbage (about 2 pounds)
2 large leeks, white and light green parts
½ cup (1 stick) butter, divided
1 cup buttermilk
salt to tast
Peel the potatoes, cut into chunks and place in a large pot. Cover with well-salted water by about 1 inch and bring to a boil. Cook the potatoes until very tender and a knife slides in easily, about 20 minutes. Drain the potatoes and place in a large bowl. Heat the buttermilk to just warm in a small pan or the microwave and add ½ cup to the potatoes. Mash the potatoes with a potato masher or sturdy wooden spoon until you have a nice, creamy mash. Stir in salt to taste
While the potatoes are cooking, slice the leeks into thin half-moons and rinse thoroughly in a colander. Wipe out the pot and melt ¼ cup ( ½ stick) of the butter in it. Add the leeks with some water clinging to them and cook until they begin to soften and become translucent. Stir frequently and do not le the leeks brown. Add ¼ cup of water, cover the pot and continue cooking, stirring occasionally until the leeks are completely soft and translucent. Cut out the tough core of the cabbage half and slice into thin shreds. Rinse the cabbage shreds in the colander, then add them to the pot with some water clinging. Stir to combine the leeks and cabbage and coat the cabbage with the cooking juices. Cover the pot and cook until the cabbage is completely soft and wilted, about 15 minutes. Stir a few times and add a few tablespoons more water if there is any worry of the cabbage scorching or sticking.
When the cabbage is cooked, add it to the potatoes in the bowl and fold through. Add buttermilk as needed to create a creamy, rich texture and salt as needed.
Scoop the colcannon into a large serving bowl and make a well in the center. Cut the butter into small pats and place in the well to melt. Serve scoops of colcannon with the melting butter.
Serves 4 – 6
January 25 is Burns Night, which celebrates the birthday of Scottish poet Robert Burns. Suppers are held across Scotland and by many Scottish societies and clubs around the world. I was challenged by a friend some years ago to host a Burns Night supper and so I did. I put plaid fabric down the table as a runner and had florist make up arrangements of thistle and heather. I tied place cards to miniature bottles of Scotch with plaid ribbon and wore my Scottish family motto kilt pin and pendant (I outgrow the hereditary kilt as a child). I printed out the Burns blessing and forced the challenging friend to read it aloud. I may have even had a recording of bagpipes.
The only difficulty was coming up with a menu, as about the only ting I knew of as Scottish food was haggis, and I wasn’t going there. I made a Scottish dessert of oats and cream and raspberries called Cranachan, and beef tenderloin doused in Drambuie and Neeps and Tatties (turnips and potatoes). But the real culinary discovery was Cock-a-Leekie Soup. I can’t remember where I dug up the original recipe, but I have since made it my own, because it is so simple and warming. It is a unique twist on chicken noodle, full of gentle leek flavor and homey barley. So now, Burns Night or nay, I make Cock-a-Leekie for pure comfort. And I recommend you do to, because a big, steaming bowl will warm you inside and out. I may be crossing too many cultural lines here, but it is very good with a hunk of buttered Simple Soda Bread.
For the Broth:
1 whole chicken, giblets removed
1 celery stalk
1 small white onion
2 bay leaves
1 Tablespoon black peppercorns
1 Tablespoons salt
For the Soup:
2 Tablespoons butter
½ cup pearled barley
Place all the broth ingredients into a large Dutch oven or stock pot and cover with 10 – 12 cups of water. Bring to a boil and skim off any scummy foam that rises. Turn the heat to low, cover the pot and simmer for 4 hours. Taste the stock; it should be nice and rich. Simmer a bit longer if you’d prefer.
Strain the stock into a big bowl through a colander lined with damp cheesecloth or a tea towel. Pull out all the chicken meat and discard the skin, bones, fat and vegetables. Leave the broth to cool and settle, then skim off as much fat as possible. I generally make the stock a day before and leave it in the fridge overnight. It is then easy to remove the fat from the top of the stock. Refrigerate the meat also if you are leaving the soup overnight.
When ready to cook, place the barley in a bowl and cover with 1 cup of water. Leave to soak for at least an hour or until much of the water is absorbed. Quarter the leeks then cut into thin slivers. Place in a colander and rinse very well. Shred and chop about 2 cups of chicken meat. Remember, you’ll be eating this with a spoon so you want spoon-sized pieces.
Melt the butter in a Dutch oven and add the leeks. Cook the leeks over medium heat until they are soft and wilted, then add 8 cups of chicken stock. Add the soaked barley and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat, then add the chopped chicken meat. Lower the heat, cover the pot and simmer for about 20 – 30 minutes until the barley is tender and toothsome.
Season with salt and serve nice and warm. You’ll have some extra broth and some extra chicken. Lucky you!
The Burns Blessing
Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it;
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
And sae let the Lord be thankit.
It is always nice to have a simple, quick party recipe in you back pocket during the holidays. Something you can whip up quickly and without too much pre-planning and take to the party of gathering you forgot about – you know, you volunteered a month ago to bring a snack, but completely let it slip your mind. And this is it.
Good ingredients make a good recipe, and by using a good bottled chutney and curry powder, you get a sprightly punch of flavor with little effort. I have always loved this spread and I promise it is a hit at parties. I always get recipe requests when I take this somewhere. The unusual and slightly exotic taste makes it seem much more complicated and labor intensive than it is. And it is easy to make it look elegant by molding it into a nice round dome. Put it on a pretty holiday platter with some crackers and you are ready to go. It needs a couple of hours in the frideg to firm up, but can be made days ahead. And any leftovers are pretty great as a sandwich.
Cheddar Chutney Spread
8 ounces sharp cheddar cheese
4 ounces cream cheese
1 (8-ounce) jar good mango chutney (Major Grey style)
4 green onions, chopped
1 Tablespoon mild curry powder
1 chopped green onion for garnish
1 handful of roasted peanuts for garnish
Use the grating blade on the food processor to grate the cheddar cheese. Switch to the metal blade, then add the cream cheese, chutney, green onions and curry powder. Blend until smooth.
Now you can go simply scrape the spread into a serving bowl, cover and refrigerate for several hours until firm and serve sprinkled with green onions and peanuts. Or do what I do to make it a little fancier. Line a nice round bowl with plastic wrap, smoothing it out as much as possible, then press the spread into the bowl, compacting it as much as possible. Pull the ends of the plastic wrap to cover the top and refrigerate for several house or overnight until firm. Unwrap the top of the spread and invert it onto a plate. Remove the plastic wrap and smooth the top with a knife. Sprinkle over chopped green onions and peanuts.
Serve with buttery crackers. Can be made several days ahead.
Tabbouleh is the perfect summer farmers market dish – fresh herbs and vegetables tossed with fine grains for a fresh, cool salad. But has always been underwhelming to me. Too bland, too dry, I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to love it, but never had.
Until a conversation at a party about family recipes. A lovely woman from Mississippi was telling me about some of her family’s traditional Lebanese dishes, filtered through generations in the Missisippi Delta. She mentioned in passing that her family always soak the bulgur in lemon juice. That idea stuck with me as a way to pep up the dish. And it does. This version of tabbouleh is bright with lemon juice, really tart and unique. I love lots of fresh herbs, but have added a few spices for a little flair. So now I like tabbouleh – my way. I make this for parties and cook outs, but also just to keep a bowl in the fridge for quick lunches and snacks.
But here’s the thing about tabbouleh. This is my blueprint, lifted from someone else’s recipe. You can do what you want. More tomatoes or cucumbers, no garlic, a little chopped hot pepper. What you find at your market or in the garden. I do offer some hints. I like to give my knife and board a workout and finely chop all the ingredients, so each bite has a good mix of flavors, rather than a big chunk of tomato or cucumber or a big parsley leaf. With all the lemony tang, I’ve never really thought this needed salt, but do as you will.
Summer Market Tabbouleh
½ cup fine bulgur wheat
¼ cup lemon juice
2 plum tomatoes
1 cucumber, seed scooped out
1 green onions, white and light green parts
1 small garlic clove
½ cup fresh flat leaf parsley leaves
½ cup fresh mint leaves
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
2 Tablespoons olive oil
¼ teaspoon sumac
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon coriander
Place the bulgur in a bowl. Then mix the lemon juice and ¾ cup water in a pan and bring to a boil. Pour the liquid over the bulgur and give it a good stir. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and set aside for 15 minutes.
While the bulgur is soaking, finely chop the tomato, cucumber, green onions and place in a large bowl. Pass the garlic clove through a press into the bowl, or chop it to a fine paste on a board and add it. Finely chop the herbs and add to the bowl. Add the olive oil, sumac, cinnamon and coriander to the bowl and stir well to blend everything. Set aside.
When the fifteen minutes have passed, uncover the bulgur and fluff with a fork. If there is any liquid in the bowl or the bulgur seems wet, place it on a fine sieve and press out any liquid. Return to the bowl and fluff with the fork. Leave the bulgur to cool for about 5 minutes.
Scrape the bulgur into the tomato cucumber mix and use a fork to mix everything together, breaking up any clumps in the bulgur and scraping the sides and the bottom of the bowl. Cover the bowl again and refrigerate for a few hours to let the flavors meld.
Serves 4 as a side dish, easily doubles.
I love squash blossoms, as I have said before. So imagine my delight on my recent trip to Tepotzlan in the central mountains of Mexico, to find squash blossoms used in a huge variety of dishes. I had freshly made quesadillas with Oaxaca cheese for breakfast each morning, and stalls in the market offered sautéed squash blossoms as an add-in for tacos. The restaurant at the hotel offered them in more nuanced dishes. But perhaps the best use of squash blossoms I have ever experienced was hand made incorporated into hand made tamales at Cocinar Mexicano cooking school. I could never duplicate that experience, so I guess I’ll have to go back someday.
But the quesadillas I could copy. I wanted to zazz them up a little, so I came up with a simple squash salsa. After all, where there are blossoms there are squash. For me, this is all about the blossoms, so I don’t want to mask their flavor too much. Many of the taco vendors in Tepotzlan, and many of the recipes I’ve read at home include poblano peppers, but I’ve left that out so the blossoms sing. I only use a small amount of jalapeno in the salsa for the same reason; the squash should really shine through. That’s also why I use mild flour or white corn tortillas.
Oaxaca cheese is a mild, stringy melting cheese that I find easily at an ethnic market and frequently at my regular grocery. If you can’t find it, shredded mozzarella is a decent substitute. This recipe makes 5 quesadillas and enough salsa to accompany them. It’s an odd number, I know, but it is hard around these parts to get squash blossoms in bulk, and 2 dozen is about all I can wrangle from my grower at a time (he doesn’t want me to corner the market). If you can get your hands on more, please feel free to double the recipe. Cut in half, these quesadillas make ten lovely little nibbles with a cold Mexican beer. The squash salsa is also good with corn chips, or over a grilled fish.
Squash Blossom Quesadillas with Summer Squash Salsa
For the salsa:
½ cup diced onion
1 cup finely diced summer squash, divided (about 1 large squash)
1 plum tomato
1-inch piece of jalapeno pepper, seeds removed
2 Tablespoons cilantro leaves
1 clove garlic
2 squash blossoms
Juice of half a lime
For the quesadillas:
20 squash blossoms
1 Tablespoon olive oil
½ cup diced onion
4 ounces Oaxaca cheese, shredded into strings, or mozzarella
5 small flour or white corn tortillas
For the salsa:
Place the onion, ½ cup of the squash, the tomato, pepper, cilantro, lime juice, garlic and squash blossoms in a blender and blend until you have a chunky puree.
Pour the oil into a large skillet and add the remaining diced squash. Sauté over medium high heat for about 3 minutes, until the squash is slightly softened. Add the puree from the blender and cook for a further 3 -5 minutes, until the salsa is thickened and any excess liquid has evaporated. Salt to taste Set aside to cool.
For the quesadillas:
Pull any hard stems and spike leaves off the blossoms and pull the stamen out of the center. Shred the blossoms into narrow strands, using your fingers or scissors. Pour the olive oil into a skillet and ad the onions. Sauté over medium heat until the onions are soft and translucent, but do not brown, about 8 minutes. Reserve a handful of the shredded squash blossoms, and then add the rest to the onions in the pan. Cook, stirring constantly, until the blossoms are soft and wilted. Take the filling off the heat.
Lay the tortillas on the counter (if you use white corn tortillas, wrap them in a wet paper towel and zap them in the microwave for 15 seconds to soften). Layer about an ounce of cheese and a good dollop of the squash blossom filling over on each. Sprinkle a few of the remaining strands of squash blossom over each, then fold in half.
Heat a skillet to high heat and cook the quesadillas two at a time until the cheese is melted and each side is golden brown.
Serve immediately with the squash salsa.
Makes 5 quesadillas
Panzanella a genius example of creative leftover usage. It’s a classic Tuscan salad of stale bread and over-ripe tomatoes, tossed with basil and moistened with olive oil and vinegar. But the beautiful colors and bright fresh flavors make it elegantly simple, the kind of food you imagine yourself throwing together if you lived in a stone house in the Italian hills.
This is my riff on a panzanella, perfect for a quick summer supper. It was born of leftovers too. Bits of the delicious bread bought at the farmers that I didn’t eat immediately, those last few baby tomatoes, a handful of basil from my patch. The creamy mozzarella takes it close to a classic caprese salad, and adds that nice gooey richness that makes it a meal. It takes minutes to prepare but makes a delicious, elegant dish. A nice drizzle of quality olive oil is the perfect finishing touch – you could even drizzle a little extra balsamic on if you fancy. I think the simple version highlights the bursting tomatoes and fresh herbs, but feel free to add some garlic or diced onion.
8 ounces soft Italian bread
6 ounces cherry or grape tomatoes
1 8-ounce ball mozzarella cheese
7 – 8 large basil leaves
1 cup milk
1 Tablespoon balsamic vinegar
salt and pepper to taste
extra virgin olive oil
Preheat the oven to 350°. Grease and 8 by 8 inch square baking dish. Cut or tear the bread into bite size chinks and scatter in the baking dish. Nestle the tomatoes between the cubes, spreading them out as much as possible. Cut the mozzarella into pieces, roughly the size of the tomatoes, and nestle them around the dish too. Tear the basil into pieces, or nicely cut it into ribbons and tuck them around the whole affair as well.
Measure the milk in a 2 cup jug, then add the eggs. Beat well, add the balsamic vinegar, salt and generous grinds of black pepper. Beat until it is all thoroughly combined. Pour the milk mixture over the bread, doing your best to distribute it evenly. Press down on the bread cubes with a knife or a spatula just to get them moist.
Cover the dish with foil and bake for 15 minutes, then remove the foil and bake 15 minutes more, until the top is golden brown, the cheese is melted and the tomatoes are beginning to burst.
Serve hot, drizzled with olive oil.
As the weather really starts to heat up, a cool summer supper salad is a great thing to have in the fridge. Chicken salad is perfect picnic or party food, great for a weekend at the lake or lunch by the pool. I love a good chicken salad and make many different versions depending on the occasion and the mood. I like chunky chicken, crunch, texture and color – something interesting and intriguing, so this recipe has become a favorite.
This savory – sweet recipe is unique and distinctive and will spice up your regular summer menu. It’s lighter and healthier with Greek yogurt, which still adds richness and tang and the fresh herbs give it zing and brightness. Traditional Moroccan spices are what set this iteration apart, and the herbs, apricots and carrots make this a colorful addition to any summer table.
Moroccan Chicken Salad
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 cup Greek yogurt
1 teaspoon sweet paprika
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon coriander
1/8 teaspoon cayenne
1 Tablespoon finely chopped fresh mint
2 Tablespoons finely chopped fresh parsley
½ cup slivered almonds, toasted
6 dried apricots, finely chopped
¼ cup shredded carrots
Preheat the oven to 350°. Squeeze half of one lemon into a baking dish that just fits the chicken. Lay the chicken on top, and squeeze the other half of the juice over it. Tuck the spent lemon halves in between the chicken. Slice the other lemon into thin slices and lay over the chicken breasts. Cover the dish tightly with foil and bake until the chicken is cooked through, with an internal temperature of 165°, about 30 minutes. Uncover the dish and leave the chicken in the liquid until cool. Chop the chicken into small, bite size cubes.
Mix the yogurt and spices together in a large bowl. Stir in the mint and parsley until thoroughly combined. Add the chicken, almonds, apricots and carrots and gently fold everything together until the yogurt evenly coats all the chicken and the ingredients are evenly distributed. Refrigerate for several hours to allow the flavors to meld. The chicken salad will keep covered in the fridge for two days.
A few years ago, a group of girls and I decided we needed to celebrate a landmark birthday with landmark trip. None of us were particularly concerned about the number, but it seemed like an excuse people accept for special activities. Between the four of use, we are pretty well traveled and we thought we should find some place none of us had ever been. So we landed in Lisbon.
I, of course, researched Portuguese food before we left, made restaurant reservations and marked on maps the important food destinations we had to hit. And Lisbon, and Portugal as a whole, is known for is lovely pastries. We made a pilgrimage to sample the famous pasteis de Belem, eggy custard tarts, and ate our fill, taking little paper cylinders back to the hotel for late night consumption. And on our day drip to the lovely town of Sintra, we made a stop at a pastry shop to sample the town’s signature pastry, quiejadas, a light, cheesy version of a custard tart.
When I came home, I set out to recreate the many specialties we sampled, including the pastries. My success rate has not been great. I am not much of a pastry chef, and making the delicate, flaky pastry that encases the pasteis is above my skill level. I experimented with some queijadas recipes, but got caught up by the pastry again, and could never duplicate the light, cheese taste of the originals. But in my research, I came across two kinds of recipes for queijadas – some with cheese and some without. I think the non-cheese variety may originate in a part of Portugal we did not visit, or even Brazil.
So this is my synthesis of the recipes I found. I have not called them quiejadas so as not to offend any traditionalists, though they taste remarkably like the little tarts we ate on the train from Sintra back to Lisbon. Chewy on the outside, custardy in the middle, these could not be a simpler dessert to make. I love them plain, but they do lend themselves to a little spoonful of sugared berries or a drizzle of dulce de leche, or a nice dose of Strawberry Caramel Sauce.
Portuguese Custard Tarts
3 Tablespoons butter, melted and cooled
2 cups granulated sugar
2 cups whole milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
¾ cups flour
Preheat the oven to 325°.
Put the butter, eggs and sugar in the carafe of a blender and blend until smooth. Add 1 cup of the milk and blend, then add the flour and the remaining milk and vanilla. Blend until smooth.
Spray 18 muffin cups with cooking spray. Spray them really thoroughly right before you pour the batter in. Pour the batter into the cups, filling them ¾ full. Bake the tarts for 40 – 45 minutes until firm and golden in the center. Do not bake less than 40 minutes. If using two muffin trays, swap them from the top shelf to the bottom after 30 minutes of cooking.
Cool the tarts in the tins, then use a plastic knife to loosen the tarts and remove them carefully from the muffin cups. (A plastic knife won’t scratch the surface of the tin). These want to stick, but be patient and gentle and ease them out.
The tarts keep remarkably well for several days in an airtight container.
I used a nifty little fluted muffin tin I happen to have which adds a pretty touch, but plain tins work beautifully.
One of the great joys of my life in food is meeting other food writers in amazing places. This winter, I had the great pleasure of spending an amazing week at a writing workshop in Tepotzlan, Mexico at Cocinar Mexicano. Iconic food writer Betty Fussell lead a spectacular group of women through the birth of some great writing projects. Tepotzlan is nestled in the mountains of central Mexico and the stunning scenery lends a magical air. And it is the loudest place I have ever visited. I was there for the festival of the Three Kings, which went on for days, but there were several other festivals that week as well. Locals assured us that with the different barrio festivals, saints’ days and general holidays, there is pretty much a festival every week of the year. The sounds of bands playing in processions, cars honking in celebration, dogs barking with excitement, church bells pealing and intermittent bursts of fireworks makes the town a cacophonous but joyous place. The experience inspired me and opened my mind and really got my creative juices flowing.
Adding to the wall-to-wall inspiration was some of the best food I’ve had the pleasure to eat. The central market is bursting with chilies of every type, fresh and dried, and more varieties of corn than I can begin to list. Stallholders make and sell fresh tortillas made to order from that corn, filled with all manner of delicious things. I ate squash blossoms every day, sampled several delicious mole sauces, experienced huitlachoce, a rich, mushroomy corn fungus, in all manner of dishes and even crunched on some fried crickets. I learned to make tamales and tortillas myself, and reveled in devouring the results.
But I knew pozole was the dish I would try to re-create at home. I had a number of versions of this classic Mexican hominy soup, at the cooking school, the lovely hotel and in the market. Some were red with chiles, others were so rustic, the bones were still in the bowl. I had it with pork, chicken and a combination of the two. The prettiest and freshest version was served by the wonderful cooks at Cocinar Mexicano, a simple, rich, flavorful broth with tender meat and hominy , served with a beautiful array of toppings. And this dish is all about the toppings. Bright and colorful with different textures, they elevate this soup. This is interactive eating at its best. I had never had radishes as a soup garnish, but I am a convert and I promise the slight peppery crunch adds a wonderful touch.
Posole (Mexican Chicken and Hominy Soup)
When I make stock and want to include the meat in the finished dish, I use chicken pieces instead of a whole bird because you end up with more meat. You’ll have some leftover, which is never a bad thing.
3 bone-in, skin on chicken breasts
4 bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs
3 ounces salt pork
1 large white onion, cut in half
3 celery sticks, cut in half
2 carrots, cut in half
1 jalapeno pepper
1 red pepper, like Fresno
1 head garlic, cloves separated
7 – 8 stems cilantro
2 limes, cut in half
1 (30-ounce) can white hominy
Finely diced radishes
Finely diced red onion (I soak the diced onions in water about 30 minutes to take away the bite)
Crumbled queso fresco cheese
Crispy fried tortilla strips or crushed chips
Place the chicken pieces, pork and vegetables, cilantro and lime in a large (at least 7-quart) Dutch oven or stock pot. Add 12 cups of water. Bring almost to a boil over high heat, turn down to low, cover the pot and simmer for 4 – 6 hours, until you have a nice, rich stock.
Line a large colander with cheesecloth and set it over a large bowl. Remove the chicken pieces to another bowl or plate, then carefully strain the stock through the colander. Let the stock cool, then skim the fat from the top. I always refrigerate the stock, then simply remove the solidified fat from the top of the liquid.
When the chicken is cool enough to handle, pull the meat from the bones, removing any fat or gristle as you go. Shred the chicken into thick strands.
You can make the stock up to two days ahead. Place the chicken meat in a ziptop bag, cover the stock and keep in the fridge.
When ready to serve, transfer the stock to a large pot and bring to a simmer. Rinse the hominy thoroughly and drain. Add to the simmering stock, cover and cook for 30 minutes until the hominy is tender. Add about 4 cups of shredded chicken and simmer until heated through.
Spoon the soup into large bowls, making sure there is plenty of hominy and chicken in each bowl.
Serve with the beautiful array of toppings for everyone to add as they please.