Some time ago my Sweetie was diagnosed with Meniere's which has necessitated some diet modifications, principally the reduction of sodium. While this means some additional work for me, I don't mind cooking as long as he doesn't mind cleaning up. So most of the time this arrangement works out really well. My Sweetie is a treasure and I wouldn't know what to do without him.
Today we were having dinner guests and rather than using the oh so convenient, boneless chicken breasts, I opted for the bone in chicken and boned it myself. While dinner was cooking the denuded bones simmered away quietly on the stove becoming a delicious and fragrant stock that was used to replace the high sodium content soup called for in the recipe.
As was our custom, my beloved sweetheart cleared away the dirty dishes and washed the grimy pots, pausing only momentarily to ask me what he should do with the contents of the stock pot still simmering on the stove. I told him to just put it all in a container and store it in the fridge, and thought nothing more of it.
After our company had gone and I was moving things around in the fridge to make room for more left overs I noticed something peculiar about the contents of the container that held the residue of the stock pot.
See anything strange about the stock in this container? You guessed it, he threw out the stock and saved the bones which is exactly what he thought I'd told him to do.
It could have been worse. Years ago, at the cottage, my Dad had gone out fishing and caught several nice size bass and pickerel. They were large enough that rather than clean and scale them, he filleted them, running a knife along side the bone and then just under the skin on both sides, leaving 2 nice big pieces of boneless fish. He wrapped up the fish portions and laid them aside in some paper towel, then he wrapped up the garbage in the newspaper he had been cutting them on for disposal in the wood stove which was used for heating and sometimes cooking.
To make sure that the fish guts were thoroughly burned he first went out to the woodpile to get some more wood to add to the fire. Mean while Mom got ready to cook the fish for supper and in order to clear things out of the way she grabbed the paper wrapped parcel and threw it in the fire. Dad came back, added wood to the stove, threw the fish guts in to burn and started looking for the carefully prepared fillets. Unfortunately, Mom in her zeal to clean up had thrown the fillets in the fire. I'm not sure what we had for supper that night, but there's one thing I know for sure, it wasn't fish.
Another thing I know for sure....we won't be having homemade chicken soup for lunch tomorrow and missing stock or not, I really appreciate a Honeybun who will clean up in the kitchen, because I hate washing dishes almost more than anything I can think of.