I love gravy, but I’ve always sucked at making it. In the last couple of years, I have fallen on the crutch of letting my wife, or mother, or mother-in-law, or random encyclopedia salesmen make gravy for me. I had developed an irrational fear of making gravy.
Yesterday afternoon, I was making Sunday dinner, and everyone else in the entire world was running late. I think they were at their “Make that rat-bastard Maus make his own gravy for once” meeting. Anyhow, the bird came out of the oven, and no one was around to [del]bail my sorry ass out[/del] help out with the gravy, while I attended to the vegetables. I already had all the gravy-making ingredients out: Wondra, salt, pepper, and home-make chicken stock.
“Okay Maus, you’ve seen this doen hundres of times. You can do this,” I said to my self. I began my mantra: “Gravy is not a big, hair spider. Gravy will not put me in a sack and throw me in the basement.” I decided that while that mantra may work for clowns, a better mantra would be: “Only as much Wondra as fat, and add a little at a time. Keep working it with the spatula.”
In just a few minutes, I had a nice rue. I then change my mutterings to: “Add the stock just a little at a time, and keep stirring.” Before I knew it, I had attained Gravy!
I’ve already learned how to make pie crusts. Now gravy. Next step: World domination!!
I still have no idea how to make gravy, and neither does my mother, who is an otherwise fantastic cook. My dad, who is generally a horrible cook, can make gravy like a motherfuck. This makes no sense to me! Though to be fair to myself, I’ve never attempted to make gravy. I don’t really eat it, but aside from that, something about it intimidates me. Don’t ask me what.
It’s simple. If you mess up gravy, not only does God kill a kitten, and Baby Jesus cry, but Baby Jesus then shows up at your dinner table, just as the guest are sitting down and tosses said dead kitten on the table, and tells everyone that this was your fault.
On a related note, if you ever want a four-year-old and a two-year-old to stop fighting over the same toy, when there is an identical one Right There, just run a few victory laps around the kitchen chanting, “I made gravy! I made gravy!”
I made my first successful cream gravy* over Thanksgiving weekend, albeit without enough pepper, so I salute you, Maus, in your accomplishment! It’s quite a feeling.
My mother was the Epitome of Gravy Makers. We should all bow our heads in memory of her.
The first Thanksgiving after she died, we were all at my sister’s house. There was a pot of broth on the stove, and my sister handed me a whisk and said, “YOU make the gravy.”
Cream gravy I can do. My “broth gravy” is a hit or miss, usually miss. I glanced up at the ceiling, made a silent prayer, and put flour and water into a covered dish, and shook the Hell out of it. (I hedged my bets with Wondra). When the flour had all dissolved in the water, I took the plunge and poured the flour slurry into the simmering broth, then stirred like crazy with the whisk.
It turned out perfectly. My sister and I cried together, then danced in the kitchen.
Congrats to you, Maus! With gravy-making skills accomplished, you’ll never starve!
~VOW
Anyway, I’ve never found it difficult. You’ve got the juices from the meat, you put those in a pot, you toss in the giblets if you want, and you slowly add starch until it thickens up. Presto, gravy.
Wondra is an particular kind of low-protein flour that’s been pregelatinized. It’s good for gravies (as it doesn’t lump up as easily as regular flours) and many cooks use it for batters and baked goods for the light crumb it gives dishes.
But, yeah, I don’t understand the mystery behind making gravy.
Wondra is the brand name for a kind of flour designed specifically for gravy. It’s already partially cooked, and the granules are extra tiny to incorporate more easily.
My dad always makes the gravy at family dinners at my parents house, and his is fantastic. I’m speaking here of chicken or turkey gravy - they rarely cook a roast beef, since several extended family members don’t eat red meat.
My dad’s gravy has a secret ingredient - a little bit of curry powder. Well, it’s not really secret - pretty much everyone in the family knows. It’s just a bit of curry powder - not enough that you can really taste it, but just enough to give a little kick of flavor.
That’s called a “slurry.” In addition to the roux method (fat & starch), that’s the two most common ways to make a gravy. For me, it tastes better with a roux, but if my gravy for whatever reason ends up too thin, I’ll correct it with a slurry. As you note, cold water is key to doing the slurry correctly. It keeps it from lumping.
Me neither too, also. I mentioned elsewhere that we went out to the midwest for t-day, and taught my son and DIL how to make a turkey dinner. I did it the hard way, showing them how to make stock first, then separate drippings, then make a roux, etc. As with most people, they were surprised at how easy it is. But if you screw up the order of prep, it can be a disaster, of course. I also showed them how to make sausage (cream) gravy.
My daughter took over the gravy duties this Thanksgiving, after years of complaining about my gravy (I tend towards lumpiness, due to impatience). She used too much cornstarch, and made something very like Turkey Jello.
And so the traditional Mocking of the Gravy has been passed to a new generation.
And that sort of problem is fixable, if you have some canned stock or broth on hand. Or, hell, whatever other kind of liquid you think may work. A little bit of orange juice. Water with a bouillon cube. Maybe even just water with some salt, if it comes down to it. That’s the thing with gravy, if you overshoot or undershoot the thickness, you can easily fix it.
Gravy made with cornstarch has a glassy, glossy look to it. Tastes fine, though. And cornstarch dissolves like a dream, making it VERY DIFFICULT (but not impossible!) to make lumpy gravy.
If roux-based gravy tastes better, it’s probably because the “raw” taste from the flour has been completely cooked out of the roux before it is mixed with the milk/broth. When making gravy with a slurry, it MUST be cooked for a while before serving. Many people think, “Oh, it’s thickened up, TIME FOR DINNER!” Nuh-uhn. Simmer for five minutes or so, to completely cook the flour.
~VOW
I’ve never understood why people end up with lumpy gravy. That’s what a whisk is for. Hell, they even make a flat whisk specifically for gravy and sauces.
If you try adding flour to hot liquid (as opposed to hot fat or cold liquid), it’s pretty easy to get lumps which are near impossible to beat out. Barring that mistake, I don’t get it either.
