The Gravy Cure

Whenever vague melancholia sets in (or in my case, crippling depression), it's good to look for natural remedies. At times like this, I like to take The Gravy Cure. While it may not actually "cure" anything in the technical sense, I can prescribe it without reservation as a soothing unguent for life's downturns.

A dear friend of mine, CarmelCorn, coined the term many years ago, when we worked together in the book world. He is a kind and wise man, knowledgeable in all matters related to ethics, parenthood, American music, and The Simpsons. He also held the regional record for meal charges to his expense account, so he knows a thing or two about good grub as well.

The first time I recall hearing about it, we had just gone through some brutal layoffs (er, "restructuring" was the term they used, I believe), and our tight knit posse of hilarious geeky intelligentsia was feeling battered and broken. We were a smart bunch, with a tendency to be socially awkward and difficult to employ in the traditional sense. Multiple employees were over 30 and lived with their parents, and one had watched The Exorcist in its entirety every single day for well over a decade. Then there were the real weirdos.

It was a tough blow, as many of us had begun working for the company in its heyday, when times were booming for giant bookstore/cafes. The news was shocking, and we were all pretty upset. Since we were already drinkers - we put the fun in functional alcoholism! - something more than a good bender was called for. CarmelCorn suggested that we indulge in some good, hearty Midwestern fare, and that it should be covered in gravy, because one's mood is always improved after ingesting gratuitous amounts of gravy.

I'll be damned if he wasn't right. We ate huge amounts. Enough to feel padded against the shock. And it worked.

As a result of the upheaval, my job changed from managing the events and outreach for a single store to managing many locations in a large area. This meant I had to travel a lot, often with my boss, the Zen Master. I turned him on to The Gravy Cure, and we began spreading the news throughout the land. All were converted, and still stand by the potent remedy even now. CarmelCorn's simple idea has reached far and helped many an ailing English major, and it is my belief that we should erect a monument in his honor.

I've been given plenty of mood elevators and antidepressants by doctors, and all they did was make me numb. But good gravy has mysterious properties that can, for a short time, loft one out of the darkness. It's like a warm hug, from the inside out. It may not have kept Sylvia Plath's noggin' out of the oven, but it can definitely make the day go better.

If you live in the Midwest - or the South, or any rural area with good diners or cafeterias, you'll be fine. In the morning you can go for biscuits & gravy, and later meals can vary: chicken fried steak, roast beef manhattan, fried chicken w/potatoes & gravy. Just think of the waitress as a gentle nurse who will help heal your suffering.

If you live in a place that does not have ready access to home-style cooking, you're going to need to make your own. DO NOT open a jar, or use a packet, or do anything that that demon harpie Sandra Lee would approve of. You're gonna need to do it, and you'll need to do it right if it's going to work.

For everything you could possibly need to know, please consult the bible, McGee's On Food and Cooking (if you don't own this, you should. you really, really should.). Simply open to Sauces: Sauces Thickened with Flour and Starch: Gravy on page 619, where the perfect method is outlined in detail. Do what he says. You'll be fine.

Sadly, not every kitchen is equipped with this indispensable tome (seriously, you should get this one), therefore I offer you this tutorial from Alton Brown. Learn how to do it, and enjoy the cure - it's good for what ails you.

The Gravy Cure

Sometimes, when you're feeling vaguely anxious and life seems to be chaotic, the best cure is comfort food. Soft, beige foods that Jane Stern refers to as "nursery food" - food that subtly transports one back to the content safety of childhood.

I have long referred to this as "The Gravy Cure". Feeling down? Treat yourself to a big breakfast of biscuits and sausage gravy. Or maybe a nice chicken fried steak, slathered in the good stuff. Personally, I find that either beef or turkey Manhattans do the trick nicely.**

**For my non-Midwestern readers: A "Manhattan: is a sturdy, delicious staple consisting of slices of white bread, covered with creamy mashed potatoes, thinly sliced layers of either roasted beef or turkey, drenched generously with gravy.


With that in mind, Michael kindly made me a lovely and delicious dinner of chicken and biscuits.

Drop biscuits are my favorite, because they get lovely craggy brown peaks on top:




Homemade stock, with leftovers from the past few days:



Sweating some shallots:



A roux, to thicken the stock and transform it into golden gravy:




Finally - dinner - -



When the cure is this good, I don't mind taking my medicine.