I hate waste. I just hate waste. It makes me cringe when I’m in my most energetically enironmental and fills me with guilt when I’m lazy and can’t be bothered.
Whether it’s a lonely last bite of food on a plate (or even the gravy) or the bones of a bird thrown out without boiling, I can’t. Bear. Waste.
So here we have a chicken. Yesterday it did us roasted with potatoes, carrots and a whole onion, all in the same tin; today it was chicken and leek pie, with brocolli and peas and now its dull carcase is stuffed in my stock pot, boiling with a large onion cut in half (no need to remove the skin), 4 bay leaves, a handful of fennel seeds, a carrot and a celery stalk. It’s not pretty but tomorrow I can either make some kind of winter veg soup or even risotto.