Have you ever eaten a bison burger? I practically lived on them at the Handcrafted Soap Makers Conference in Denver this year. They're lean and mean and oh so tasty. And as long as I'm going to eat meat, I like the idea of using the whole animal, don't you? Here's what we came up with to help do just that.
Introducing our bison bar....of soap I mean. It's made from, you guessed it, buffalo fat. Rendering tallow is not something I'm particularly fond of, so I recommend cooking this stuff up outdoors because the distinct aroma of simmering bison fat isn't all that great. Luckily, it pretty much disappears by the time it turns into soap. (whew)
They're finding now that animal fats are actually good for you too by the way, but that's not the focus of this blog post.
Introducing our bison bar....of soap I mean. It's made from, you guessed it, buffalo fat. Rendering tallow is not something I'm particularly fond of, so I recommend cooking this stuff up outdoors because the distinct aroma of simmering bison fat isn't all that great. Luckily, it pretty much disappears by the time it turns into soap. (whew)
They're finding now that animal fats are actually good for you too by the way, but that's not the focus of this blog post.
Thanks to my friend David Fisher at about.com for the expert advice on rendering tallow and a very special thanks to Hugh Fitzsimons, the owner of humanely raised grass-fed Thunder Heart Bison for providing us with the main ingredient. We dedicated this whole process to Hugh because he's the one that first put this bug in our ear. Now here's how we turned 44 lbs. of bison fat into 11 lbs. of pure bison tallow.
After trimming off all the meat we could, we cut up the fat into small chunks. We'd planned on using a grinder but of course ours decided to go on the blink that day. Of course. Much of this appeared to be kidney fat, which is the cream of the crop. How did I know that? My husband was a butcher long ago. We covered the chunks with water and brought them to a boil over a low flame. What you want is a nice slow simmering boil. We kept ours gently bubbling for about 3 hours, stirring and mashing it all up from time to time.
Finally it was time to scoop out the big chunks of cooked meat & gristle. Then we strained out the smaller pieces. And then we strained the whole thing one more time, this time covering the strainer with panty hose (which by the way, is about ALL that panty hose are good for). As you can see, we could have used a bigger strainer throughout this whole process. *note to self for next time*
Be careful now, it's hot! Real hot!!!
Be careful now, it's hot! Real hot!!!
I guess these are called cracklins, although they weren't crispy. I wont show you the picture of my husband actually sampling them. Ewwww! How could he? We probably should have cooked them longer, but it was 95 degrees in the shade and we were tired. Sometimes enough is enough. Jory said it looked good.
The last step was to pour the golden hot liquid into smaller containers and let them cool in the fridge overnight. The clean tallow rises to the top and congeals into a solid mass and the watery stuff is left below. After prying a knife under the slippery blocks to pick them up, we ran them under cool water to wash them off, patted them dry, chunked them up, and voila...pristine rendered bison tallow baby!
And that's how this unscented 100% Bison Bar was born.
Simple. Pioneer. Spirit.
Simple. Pioneer. Spirit.










