Alana Newhouse reached into her freezer and grabbed an icy hunk of frozen chicken fat and skin. She shaved off about two cups, letting it fall into a greased pan. "It's supposed to cook slow and low for a long time," she explained. This is a story about schmaltz, in both senses of the word. It is a story about rendered chicken fat — a golden dream, a masterpiece of umami — and it is also a story about two Jewish women who were complete strangers, but got together to render said chicken fat.