Now if THAT title didn't get your attention, take your pulse. Annalena is a Spice Girl over the next few days. In fact, as you go through the last month of so of entries, you will see more and more use of chilis, and non-Italian: indeed, Asian, spices in Annalena's cooking. This may just be a trend, it may be a result of the weather, who knows? In any event, the recipes I have been interested in cooking lately have gone this way, and why fight it, when they're good?
In connection with these recipes, I mention the concept of "fusion cooking," because Annalena seems to have gotten involved in it, big time, as this, and the entry to follow, will show. The recipe in question today, was "Malaysian Beef Curry." Annalena, however, had a 3 pound bag of frozen boar stew meat, and decided she'd substitute one for the other. It worked. But not everyone has access to wild boar meat, so go back to regular beef if that's what you got. Or try something else. Lamb, maybe? And I bet duck legs would be superb with this too.
One of the lessons of this recipe, too, is knowing when you MUST use an ingredient, when you can substitute, and when you can leave something out. I will concede, this comes with experience. There are some disasters in your future , there are some dishes that will just taste "so/so" and some where you won't miss the ingredients. Honestly, I like how this dish tastes, and I made a number of substitutions and omissions. But of course, now I don't know what the real deal would have tasted like. It is a trade off. As I go through this recipe, I will talk about the ingredients that I changed or left out , and why.
This is said to be a Malyasian dish. How would I know? I will take it on faith. It tasted like Thai food to me, which is not a bad thing. Annalena has never been to a Malaysian restaurant, so if there is anyone out there who knows, tell me, if you will.
We start by making a spice paste. THe first ingredient called for in the recipe was "8 large, dried New Mexico chilies." OK, now let's raise some eyebrows: it's a "Malaysian" dish, and it calls for New Mexico chilies. What's going on here?
I dunno. Annalena has about 24 different varieties of dried chili in her home. None of them are New Mexico. She DOES know what New Mexico chilies are, however. You will see them called "Hatch" chilies at times, or "Anaheims." And you have seen the dried ones in the long streams of them, looking almost like a big bunch of grapes, called "ristras." But if you don't have them?
Well, here's what I did. I always have canned green New Mexico chilies in the house. They come in little tiny cans and you can get them at your grocer. And I know that these are relatively mild chilies. I have lots of dried ancho chilies, and they are milder, with a bit of sting. So, I decided I would use a substitution of a can of the green chilies and the anchos. These are larger than New Mexico chilies, so I reduced the number to four. Cover them with hot water, and put them to the side.
The recipe continues by calling for a half cup of shallots, chopped. If you have the patience to chop a half cup of shallots, do not let me stop you. I gave up after three, and just added the rest in plain onion.
The ESSENTIAL ingredient here, was lemon grass . You need four large stalks of it. Let Annalena explain what to do with this, because it's not self evident. When you get a stalk of lemon grass, there's a solid, light base, and then the thing streams off, like, well, grass. You don't want the grass part for this portion of the recipe, so make a cut where the grass blades start coming out of the plant. Then, cut off the root base. You will have a 3-4 inch segment. Take the outer layer off. Now, starting at the end that was closer to the grass blades, start chopping. Keep chopping until you start getting resistance. There is a firm, hard, woody center to the plant, and it will destroy your knife. Toss the base of the lemon grass away, but keep the blades of grass. We'll come back to that.
Put the green chilies, the lemon grass, the onion/shallot together, and add 6 peeld cloves of garlic, 2 teaspoons of ground coriander, 1.5 teaspoons of ground cumin a half teaspoon of dried ginger, and (my addition here), a few slices of peeled, chopped, fresh ginger. YOu also add 3 tablespoons of fish sauce (you could use soy sauce if you had to), and a tablespoon of "golden brown sugar."
What the hell is golden brown sugar? Think I know? I had turbinado sugar in the house, and that's what I used. Use brown sugar, light or dark, if you don't have this. Put all of this stuff into a blender.
Now, go and get those chilies out of the hot water, tear them up and put them in with everything else. Put in half a cup of water and puree this for about two minutes. It will not be smooth, and that's just fine. Put it aside for a minute.
Now, in a big pot, put three pounds of stew meat. You don't have to brown this. Add a can of coconut milk, be it regular or low fat, 2 star anises and a cinnamon stick. I think these are all essential. Now, to the stuff I changed and left out.
The recipe called for 8 kaffir lime leaves. Citrus Bomb provides me with these from time to time. I didn't know I was going to need them for this recipe, so I didn't ask for them in my latest shipment. Now "CB" is fast, but even the combined powers of the Wicked Witch of the East (moi), and the Wicked Witch of the West (CB), could not get kaffir lime leaves to Annalena in a day.
So I used a lime instead. Cut in quarters. This went into the pot. The recipe called for a tablespoon of tamarind.
I SWEAR that this is true. I used to have a can of tamarind paste in the kitchen. I had it for five years and never opened it. So I tossed it. No tamarind paste.
One tablespoon? We'll do without.
Remember those lemon grass stalks? Get something heavy and POUND them to break the fibers. Now, bend them, tie them together with a string, and put them int the middle of the pot.
Ok, so everything goes into the pot, with the spice paste. Stir it up. Put it , either into a slow cooker, at low heat, for five hours, or bake it, at 325, for about 3 hours.
Your home will smell exotic as this cooks, and the sauce will take on a rich orange red color.
If you use a pork product, or even a beef or lamb product for that matter, I would suggest that you let this cool, refrigerate it, and pull the solidified fat out at the end, to make it a lighter dish.
There is nothing I can think of to serve with this other than plain, white rice.
It ain't that hard to do, and you will be considered amazing for your command of non-western food. And you can smile. And of course, say a prayer to the Wicked Witch of the East.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Taming the beast: cabbage soup
I was surprised to find that I had mentioned cabbage as often as I have in this never ending blog. When I looked closer, however, I saw that I mentioned it, for the most part, in conjunction with something else. There are almost no recipes or discussion in these entries, of cabbage as a main ingredient. I have shown you how to make my favorite cabbage cooked in wine (a dish that is on the table a LOT in the winter), how to put it in soups, and how to use it as a salad ingredient. But today, we're going to look at cabbage as "THE" ingreidient in the soup.
Don't go away. I know what you're thinking. No, it's not borscht, and no, it's not awful. Believe me, I know of awful cabbage soups. When Annalena was younger, her grandmother used to be friends with a woman that had a very odd name ; Cecilia Czyz. Cecilia (or "CEIL!!!!" as I heard her referred to, usually), was not a nice woman. If you think of those crazy ladies who have 90 cats in their homes, you imagine someone who looked like "Mrs Czyz" as I was required to call her.
"CC" used to make a cabbage soup. She would bring it for her son, Christopher, as his lunch. He loved it. The smell, and the look of it, used to make my not delicate young stomach (remember: I was eating sheep head and eel), just turn. And indeed, as I have written, many of you have that kind of reaction to the smell of cabbage, and with good reason. That smell does seem to carry over to the vegetable itself, and that's not good.
Well, in the soup I am about to give you, you will not have to worry. In fact, I will challenge you, to challenge your friends. Make this soup, don't tell them what it is, and then ask them to guess what the salient vegetable is. I bet they won't be able to.
Ok, here we go. First, the ingredients. You are going to need about six cups of shredded cabbage, and the plain green stuff is okay here. Six cups of shredded cabbage is about half of a 3-4 pound head. Now, when I say "shred" here, I mean cut the cabbage in half, and then turn it over on its cut side, and then slice thin slices off of that, using your knife in a straight, downward motion. Surgical precision is not required here. Put it aside, and peel and cube about 3 cups of potatoes, and then slice up the same amount of leeks. It's about a pound of potatoes, and 3 or so large leeks. Use the white part of the leeks, and the light green part.
Now, remember, this is soup. So if you don't have enough potatoes, or you don't have enough leeks, don't worry.
You also need 3 cloves of garlic. Just smash them to get the skin off. If yo uhappen to have a small piece of parmesan rind, you're going to use that too, but if you don't, no problem. Also, get a bay leaf or two, and finally, four cups of chicken stock, and 2 cups of water.
Put a tablespoon each of butter and olive oil (some would say use duck fat. If you have it, go for it) in a big soup pot, and when the solid fat melts, add the cabbage with a teaspoon of salt. Leave it alone, for about 2-3 minutes ,then turn it ,and do the same thing a couple more times. If the cabbage takes on a bit of a brown tint, that's fine. In fact, I encourage it. When it's nice and soft, add another tablespoon of butter, and then the leeks , garlic and potatoes. Cook this all for about 3 minutes, until the leeks just start to soften. Now, add the stock, the water, the cheese rind if you have it, and the bay leaf. Bring it to a boil, then reduce it to a simmer, cover the pot, and let it cok away for about 30 minutes.
After that half hour, the potatoes will be soft. You can pull out the cheese rind, and the bay leaves (in fact, you SHOULD pull them out). Let the mix cool and then puree it in batches in your blender.
Watch what happens. The cabbage disappears into a thick, luscious looking, ecru puree. It's almost as if you have made cabbage vichissoyse, and in fact, that's close to what you have here.
Now, you can have some fun, if you like. And I recommend it. Get a cup of creme fraiche, or sour cream if you can't find creme fraiche, and stir it into the soup. Taste it, and correct the salt if it needs it.
I SWEAR, when I looked at this, I thought I had made mushroom soup, it had that color about it. And it's good.
This is going to make a TON of soup: close to 2 quarts. When you taste it, you may want to eat it all yourself, but remember: sharing is good. Annalena is sharing hers tomorrow. I wonder who it's gonna be? Hmmmm.
Don't go away. I know what you're thinking. No, it's not borscht, and no, it's not awful. Believe me, I know of awful cabbage soups. When Annalena was younger, her grandmother used to be friends with a woman that had a very odd name ; Cecilia Czyz. Cecilia (or "CEIL!!!!" as I heard her referred to, usually), was not a nice woman. If you think of those crazy ladies who have 90 cats in their homes, you imagine someone who looked like "Mrs Czyz" as I was required to call her.
"CC" used to make a cabbage soup. She would bring it for her son, Christopher, as his lunch. He loved it. The smell, and the look of it, used to make my not delicate young stomach (remember: I was eating sheep head and eel), just turn. And indeed, as I have written, many of you have that kind of reaction to the smell of cabbage, and with good reason. That smell does seem to carry over to the vegetable itself, and that's not good.
Well, in the soup I am about to give you, you will not have to worry. In fact, I will challenge you, to challenge your friends. Make this soup, don't tell them what it is, and then ask them to guess what the salient vegetable is. I bet they won't be able to.
Ok, here we go. First, the ingredients. You are going to need about six cups of shredded cabbage, and the plain green stuff is okay here. Six cups of shredded cabbage is about half of a 3-4 pound head. Now, when I say "shred" here, I mean cut the cabbage in half, and then turn it over on its cut side, and then slice thin slices off of that, using your knife in a straight, downward motion. Surgical precision is not required here. Put it aside, and peel and cube about 3 cups of potatoes, and then slice up the same amount of leeks. It's about a pound of potatoes, and 3 or so large leeks. Use the white part of the leeks, and the light green part.
Now, remember, this is soup. So if you don't have enough potatoes, or you don't have enough leeks, don't worry.
You also need 3 cloves of garlic. Just smash them to get the skin off. If yo uhappen to have a small piece of parmesan rind, you're going to use that too, but if you don't, no problem. Also, get a bay leaf or two, and finally, four cups of chicken stock, and 2 cups of water.
Put a tablespoon each of butter and olive oil (some would say use duck fat. If you have it, go for it) in a big soup pot, and when the solid fat melts, add the cabbage with a teaspoon of salt. Leave it alone, for about 2-3 minutes ,then turn it ,and do the same thing a couple more times. If the cabbage takes on a bit of a brown tint, that's fine. In fact, I encourage it. When it's nice and soft, add another tablespoon of butter, and then the leeks , garlic and potatoes. Cook this all for about 3 minutes, until the leeks just start to soften. Now, add the stock, the water, the cheese rind if you have it, and the bay leaf. Bring it to a boil, then reduce it to a simmer, cover the pot, and let it cok away for about 30 minutes.
After that half hour, the potatoes will be soft. You can pull out the cheese rind, and the bay leaves (in fact, you SHOULD pull them out). Let the mix cool and then puree it in batches in your blender.
Watch what happens. The cabbage disappears into a thick, luscious looking, ecru puree. It's almost as if you have made cabbage vichissoyse, and in fact, that's close to what you have here.
Now, you can have some fun, if you like. And I recommend it. Get a cup of creme fraiche, or sour cream if you can't find creme fraiche, and stir it into the soup. Taste it, and correct the salt if it needs it.
I SWEAR, when I looked at this, I thought I had made mushroom soup, it had that color about it. And it's good.
This is going to make a TON of soup: close to 2 quarts. When you taste it, you may want to eat it all yourself, but remember: sharing is good. Annalena is sharing hers tomorrow. I wonder who it's gonna be? Hmmmm.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Poaching from others: pears poached in wine, red and white
I just wrote a blog about mussels and how I ignore them and don't use them. The same could be said about how I treat pears. And it's a shame. Pears, which have been called "the workhorse of the winter dessert kitchen" are really one of my favorite fruits. Why don't I eat them or cook with them more often? It's probably the same phenomenon which explains why native New Yorkers haven't been to the top of the Empire State building, or to the Statue of Liberty: familiarity. Since they're always there, well...
So, Annalena was thinking about a French dessert for tonight's cassoulet fest. Not too rich (since she's already serving prune armagnac ice cream), and something based on fruit. And she remembered the classic poached pear.
I have written about poaching fruit before, but mostly about quinces. These are much easier. You can do one, or the other, but if you want to do something spectacular, do both.
Let's start with the pears. You don't want the ripest ones you can find. You actually want something that is maybe a bit underripe, because you're going to be cooking in liquid for a substantial amount of time. For my taste, bosc pears are right for this. Underripe bartletts or anjous would be good too, but if you can, go with boscs. For 5-6 pears, get your poaching liquid ready. This is a bottle of wine (use something you'd drink but not the best stuff you have). I used a bottle of merlot, that is "eh," but not great, and in a separate pot, a bottle of muscat blanc that I just don't care for, but others like. Add a cup of water to each pot with the wine, together with 3/4 cup of sugar. If you have vanilla sugar, you might want to use this, especially with the red wine poach.
Adding some spices to these wines will make the dish better, but they're not essential. For my red wine pears, I added a cinnamon stick and half of a vanilla bean. For the white wine, the peel of a lemon and a substantial amount of sliced fresh ginger.
Peel the pears, but leave the stems on. Most traditional recipes now tell you to stand the pears up in a pot in which they fit firmly. You can go crazy with the logistics here. Truth to be told, all you need to do is make sure that the pears are covered with liquid. And you can insure this, by wetting a piece of parchment paper, crumbling it, and covering the fruit and wine with it. Turn the heat to medium high, until things come to a boil, and then lower it. Cook away and keep an eye on them. Check after twenty minutes. Do they pierce easily with a knife? They probably won't, but maybe they will. Check again after 30 minutes. At 45, the most recalcitrant of pears will be ready. The red ones will have a lovely purple hue about them, and the white ones will look like pears, but smell wonderful. Let these guys cool in the liquid, then remove them with a slotted spoon.
Now, let's have some real fun. Strain the liquids to remove the solid spices. Put the liquid back in the pots, and turn the heat to high. Keep cooking, for about half an hour, until you've got about 1/3 to 1/4 of a cup of thick, sweet, fragrant syrup. That's what you'll use to anoint your pears. While this is happening, by the way, your house is going to smell wonderful.
Leave the pears at room temperature in the reduction. They will taste better this way. Know that, while the flavors do permeat the pears, the color will not have gone deeply into the pear. The way to finesse this, is to cut the pears in half, and serve them, cooked side up. When you do that, you might want to cut the core out with a melon baller, but that's not necessary if you want to carry rustic themes forward.
With ice cream, or whipped cream, or just with the reduced syrup.
Our hero, the lowly pear. Workhorse of the winter dessert kitchen.
So, Annalena was thinking about a French dessert for tonight's cassoulet fest. Not too rich (since she's already serving prune armagnac ice cream), and something based on fruit. And she remembered the classic poached pear.
I have written about poaching fruit before, but mostly about quinces. These are much easier. You can do one, or the other, but if you want to do something spectacular, do both.
Let's start with the pears. You don't want the ripest ones you can find. You actually want something that is maybe a bit underripe, because you're going to be cooking in liquid for a substantial amount of time. For my taste, bosc pears are right for this. Underripe bartletts or anjous would be good too, but if you can, go with boscs. For 5-6 pears, get your poaching liquid ready. This is a bottle of wine (use something you'd drink but not the best stuff you have). I used a bottle of merlot, that is "eh," but not great, and in a separate pot, a bottle of muscat blanc that I just don't care for, but others like. Add a cup of water to each pot with the wine, together with 3/4 cup of sugar. If you have vanilla sugar, you might want to use this, especially with the red wine poach.
Adding some spices to these wines will make the dish better, but they're not essential. For my red wine pears, I added a cinnamon stick and half of a vanilla bean. For the white wine, the peel of a lemon and a substantial amount of sliced fresh ginger.
Peel the pears, but leave the stems on. Most traditional recipes now tell you to stand the pears up in a pot in which they fit firmly. You can go crazy with the logistics here. Truth to be told, all you need to do is make sure that the pears are covered with liquid. And you can insure this, by wetting a piece of parchment paper, crumbling it, and covering the fruit and wine with it. Turn the heat to medium high, until things come to a boil, and then lower it. Cook away and keep an eye on them. Check after twenty minutes. Do they pierce easily with a knife? They probably won't, but maybe they will. Check again after 30 minutes. At 45, the most recalcitrant of pears will be ready. The red ones will have a lovely purple hue about them, and the white ones will look like pears, but smell wonderful. Let these guys cool in the liquid, then remove them with a slotted spoon.
Now, let's have some real fun. Strain the liquids to remove the solid spices. Put the liquid back in the pots, and turn the heat to high. Keep cooking, for about half an hour, until you've got about 1/3 to 1/4 of a cup of thick, sweet, fragrant syrup. That's what you'll use to anoint your pears. While this is happening, by the way, your house is going to smell wonderful.
Leave the pears at room temperature in the reduction. They will taste better this way. Know that, while the flavors do permeat the pears, the color will not have gone deeply into the pear. The way to finesse this, is to cut the pears in half, and serve them, cooked side up. When you do that, you might want to cut the core out with a melon baller, but that's not necessary if you want to carry rustic themes forward.
With ice cream, or whipped cream, or just with the reduced syrup.
Our hero, the lowly pear. Workhorse of the winter dessert kitchen.
Flexing the mussels: with coconut milk, and lime
Well, here I am again, not just having survived, but THRIVED at my new job. There is a line in one of Annalena's favorite movies "The Tale of Innocent Erendira," based on the novella by Gabriel Garcia Marquez starring Irene Pappas (you MUST see it. You MUST read it). I'm leaving out much, but there is a moment when our hero , Erendira, after a horrible early life, looks down and says "I'm happy. I'm happy." Well, Annalena said this once, nearly 17 years ago, when she moved from job number one, to job number two. She did NOT say it at the last one, but she said it this time. She's happy. She's happy. And she has access to this blog from work so, perhaps there will be more frequent updates.
And now, to the latest one, which is a very quick, lovely meal, using mussels. I last wrote about these nearly three years ago and said "I really should use them more often." I should follow my own advice. I see them at the fish monger every week, and every week, I pass them up. Why? Who knows. Well, this week was different. Again, it was the coming together of several factors. Tonight is a dinner party, where I am serving my annual cassoulet. Let's not even begin to talk about the calories and fat in that meal. "Small portions" isn't even going to work. The only way to control the calories in this dish is to NOT EAT IT. But you have to do have it once in a while. And this is our once in a while.
So I wanted a low calorie lunch. I was not quite sure what, but then, on one of those athletic magazine web sites, which sends the Guyman about seven different emails a day, there was a column on fish for health. Annalena read it. After passing over the recipes for fish she does not like, like sardines, and fish that is out of season , like tuna, she found these. And they are good. And know what? This is a very low calorie dish. Even if you eat every last scrap of your portion, you will have consumed, maybe, 400 calories. And you will be full. Now, if you add bread or pasta or something like that, you will have to up the calories, but that's your call.
And I must say, this is a very fast meal to prepare. Here we go. I'm giving you a recipe that made two, very large portions. Reduce the servings accordingly, depending on your appetite.
You need a can of low fat coconut milk. Also, two pounds of mushrooms and two limes. I happened to have rangpur limes around, courtesy of Citrus Bomb Kim (at this point my friend David is saying "of course you did"), but if you have regular limes, fine. You might also use a stalk of lemon grass. If you use that, don't do what I did, which was to try to steep the flavor into the coconut milk. The dish is ready too quckly for that. Rather, pound the base of the lemon grass until it breaks, then chop it fine, and use it for a garnish at the end.
Here's the prep and the dish. And you'll be done in less than ten minutes. Pour the contents of the can of coconut milk into a large pot. Add a scant teaspoon of salt. Turn the heat to medium, and when the coconut milk is heating, put the mussels into a colander, and wash them quickly. When the coconut milk comes to a simmer, squeeze one lime into it, and then add the mussels. Cover the pot, and cook for two minutes.
Yes, I said two minutes. The mussels will all have opened. Use a slotted spoon, and move them, shell and all, to two bowls. Squeeze the second lime over the coconut milk broth in the bowl, and pour it over the mussels.
Have some serious napkins ready as you eat this, and a "trash bowl" for the shells. You'll need it.
And if you don't believe me on the calories, go look them up. That's what I did. And I will try to remember that as I tuck into my duck confit tonight.
And now, to the latest one, which is a very quick, lovely meal, using mussels. I last wrote about these nearly three years ago and said "I really should use them more often." I should follow my own advice. I see them at the fish monger every week, and every week, I pass them up. Why? Who knows. Well, this week was different. Again, it was the coming together of several factors. Tonight is a dinner party, where I am serving my annual cassoulet. Let's not even begin to talk about the calories and fat in that meal. "Small portions" isn't even going to work. The only way to control the calories in this dish is to NOT EAT IT. But you have to do have it once in a while. And this is our once in a while.
So I wanted a low calorie lunch. I was not quite sure what, but then, on one of those athletic magazine web sites, which sends the Guyman about seven different emails a day, there was a column on fish for health. Annalena read it. After passing over the recipes for fish she does not like, like sardines, and fish that is out of season , like tuna, she found these. And they are good. And know what? This is a very low calorie dish. Even if you eat every last scrap of your portion, you will have consumed, maybe, 400 calories. And you will be full. Now, if you add bread or pasta or something like that, you will have to up the calories, but that's your call.
And I must say, this is a very fast meal to prepare. Here we go. I'm giving you a recipe that made two, very large portions. Reduce the servings accordingly, depending on your appetite.
You need a can of low fat coconut milk. Also, two pounds of mushrooms and two limes. I happened to have rangpur limes around, courtesy of Citrus Bomb Kim (at this point my friend David is saying "of course you did"), but if you have regular limes, fine. You might also use a stalk of lemon grass. If you use that, don't do what I did, which was to try to steep the flavor into the coconut milk. The dish is ready too quckly for that. Rather, pound the base of the lemon grass until it breaks, then chop it fine, and use it for a garnish at the end.
Here's the prep and the dish. And you'll be done in less than ten minutes. Pour the contents of the can of coconut milk into a large pot. Add a scant teaspoon of salt. Turn the heat to medium, and when the coconut milk is heating, put the mussels into a colander, and wash them quickly. When the coconut milk comes to a simmer, squeeze one lime into it, and then add the mussels. Cover the pot, and cook for two minutes.
Yes, I said two minutes. The mussels will all have opened. Use a slotted spoon, and move them, shell and all, to two bowls. Squeeze the second lime over the coconut milk broth in the bowl, and pour it over the mussels.
Have some serious napkins ready as you eat this, and a "trash bowl" for the shells. You'll need it.
And if you don't believe me on the calories, go look them up. That's what I did. And I will try to remember that as I tuck into my duck confit tonight.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
In a pickle: some easy winter pickles
Annalena has moved on. Yes, indeed she has. Now sort of ensconced in her new digs, as she brings bread crumbs to work every day and figures out where things like the facilities are, and that as a matter of principle, the firm does not have plastic spoons (how WILL the girl eat her yogurt?), etc, etc, she begins to settle in. THe word is to "give it three weeks." We shall see. Perhaps it will be less, and I hope so.
It is against this backdrop that this recipe was "born." See, when stressed, Annalena buys groceries and she cooks. Sometimes. Sometimes, the groceries just aren't used, and they tend to spoil in the fridge, as Annalena doesn't get to them.
Several weeks ago, I had bought a huge bag of shishito peppers from Nevia, the vegetable goddess. Now, I thought it was not possible to have these, during the winter. The miraculous Nevia, however, managed to find a way to grow them in her greenhouse.
Nothing comes without a price, however, and these peppers were up there at 10 dollars a pound, sitting there, waiting to spoil, because I wasn't cooking them. What to do?
Remember "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers?" Well, I wasn't picking them, and I just wonder how I could adapt a rhyme for Annalena, but the fact is, I had 'pickled peppers' on my mind. And, I remembered that in one of Alice Waters books, she provides guidelines for making easy, quick pickles. You do have to refrigerate these guys: they're not storage pickles, so make a small batch, and then when you're done, make it again.
You need about a pound of small vegetables. Now, when I say small, I mean you can take a larage one, like a cauliflower, and break it up into florets. So, too with broccoli, or take carrots and slice them, and so forth. For the shishito peppers I used, I just left them whole.
make your bring by combining 1.5 cups each of vinegar and water. The vinegar can vary, but I suggest you choose one that is light colored, so your vegetables don't discolor. Most suggest white wine vinegar, but I prefer apple cider. Then mix 2.5 tablespoons of sugar with this, and a bay leaf. Also, add a few, say 4-6 sprigs of thyme and a bit of hot pepper. As it happened, one of our Green Market guys, Dave, had just given me a bag of home dried cayenne peppers, so I used on of them. You can use red pepper flakes, or powder, and you can change this quantity if you like a spicier vegetable. Also, about half a teaspoon of coriander seeds. This is kind of essential, and you will be surprised how "flat" your pickles will taste without them. Also, put in salt. Here, you be the judge. There's a lot of liquid here, and you may want more salt than your neighbor, and so forth.
Bring all of this to a boil. When it's at a boil, pour it over your vegetables. Leave them alone, until they cool down, and then put them in a container.
I let mine sit at room temperature for a day or so, in order to get the pickle flavor into the flesh a bit. You don't have to. I will tell you that the hot liquid will cause the chlorophyll in green vegetables to deteriorate, so you won't have a bright green color. What you WILL have is something you can put on your plate to spice things up a bit. Something with hot dogs, for example, or a hamburger, or just to "tide you over" as it were.
Make them. And then make them again, using a different vegetable. They will all be good. And then, change the seasoning. And tell Annalena how you changed them, because she wants to know.
It is against this backdrop that this recipe was "born." See, when stressed, Annalena buys groceries and she cooks. Sometimes. Sometimes, the groceries just aren't used, and they tend to spoil in the fridge, as Annalena doesn't get to them.
Several weeks ago, I had bought a huge bag of shishito peppers from Nevia, the vegetable goddess. Now, I thought it was not possible to have these, during the winter. The miraculous Nevia, however, managed to find a way to grow them in her greenhouse.
Nothing comes without a price, however, and these peppers were up there at 10 dollars a pound, sitting there, waiting to spoil, because I wasn't cooking them. What to do?
Remember "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers?" Well, I wasn't picking them, and I just wonder how I could adapt a rhyme for Annalena, but the fact is, I had 'pickled peppers' on my mind. And, I remembered that in one of Alice Waters books, she provides guidelines for making easy, quick pickles. You do have to refrigerate these guys: they're not storage pickles, so make a small batch, and then when you're done, make it again.
You need about a pound of small vegetables. Now, when I say small, I mean you can take a larage one, like a cauliflower, and break it up into florets. So, too with broccoli, or take carrots and slice them, and so forth. For the shishito peppers I used, I just left them whole.
make your bring by combining 1.5 cups each of vinegar and water. The vinegar can vary, but I suggest you choose one that is light colored, so your vegetables don't discolor. Most suggest white wine vinegar, but I prefer apple cider. Then mix 2.5 tablespoons of sugar with this, and a bay leaf. Also, add a few, say 4-6 sprigs of thyme and a bit of hot pepper. As it happened, one of our Green Market guys, Dave, had just given me a bag of home dried cayenne peppers, so I used on of them. You can use red pepper flakes, or powder, and you can change this quantity if you like a spicier vegetable. Also, about half a teaspoon of coriander seeds. This is kind of essential, and you will be surprised how "flat" your pickles will taste without them. Also, put in salt. Here, you be the judge. There's a lot of liquid here, and you may want more salt than your neighbor, and so forth.
Bring all of this to a boil. When it's at a boil, pour it over your vegetables. Leave them alone, until they cool down, and then put them in a container.
I let mine sit at room temperature for a day or so, in order to get the pickle flavor into the flesh a bit. You don't have to. I will tell you that the hot liquid will cause the chlorophyll in green vegetables to deteriorate, so you won't have a bright green color. What you WILL have is something you can put on your plate to spice things up a bit. Something with hot dogs, for example, or a hamburger, or just to "tide you over" as it were.
Make them. And then make them again, using a different vegetable. They will all be good. And then, change the seasoning. And tell Annalena how you changed them, because she wants to know.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Oh captain, my captain: Country Captain
Ciao ragazzi, and a great big "mi dispiace" from Annalena for abandoning you for so long. This has been a revolutionary week in Annalena's life, as she ended a relationship of 12, or 26 years, depending on your point of view and moved on.
No, fear not. She did not move out on the Guy man, nor did the Guy man move out on her. Rather, Annalena made either the second, or third job change of her long working career this week. I began my first professional job in 1981, and then moved on in 1984. Then, depending on how you look at it, I either moved to a new job in 1998, or continued with my old one, as my company was absorbed into a larger one. Now, in 2011, I move on again, going back to my routes. A change from a firm of over 900 lawyers and many offices, to one of 45 and one. Culture shock? No. But culture change. For the better. Annalena is happy.
But the week being what it was, I was unable to bring you this recipe, which I have been meaning to. Background and digressions, first.
Many of you know how Annalena is absolutely fascinated with American "culturalisms" when it comes to food. Sourdough in San Francisco, bagels in New York, chili everywhere, apple pie everywhere, and so on and so forth. And there is always something new to learn.
Some months ago, on a menu inspired by James Beard, "country captain" appeared. Now, James Beard is one of Annalena's culinary idols. Arguably, he is the founder of American food. So if he inspired the menu and the dish is linked to him, Annalena wanted to know. Even moreso, since I have never heard of it.
What followed was some research and a great deal of learning about what may be an American equivalent of cassoulet. To summarize, you can go from town to town, city to city, in France, and you will never get the same recipe twice. As I moved from website to website, I found the same thing of this recipe, which is essentially a chicken stew, associated with "low country" cooking from the Southeast. I learned that this was one of FDR's favorite foods. I learned that there are competitions to make this dish. And so it goes.
As I got deeper into the research, I was also sorting through recipes which needed to be filed. And I found this one. Interestingly, it varies from most of the standard recipes, which almost all call for green peppers, and slivered almonds at the end.
It is a good recipe, with a somewhat involved list of ingredients, but there are short cuts one can take, as Annalena shall explain, and ultimately, it is a very easy dish to make.
So , let's go. You start with a tablespoon of curry powder, or make a spice mix. Here is the one I used: 1.5 teaspoon of coriander seeds, 1 teaspoon of fennel seeds, 1 teaspoon of cumin seeds, .5 teaspoon of whole black peppercorns, 3 cloves (whole), a half inch piece of cinnamon stick. You put all of this in that burr grinder I told you about, some recipes back, and grind it to a powder. Then you mix the powder with half a teaspoon of tumeric and , if you like, quarter teaspoon of cayenne pepper. You might also use paprika instead.
Now, to the vegetables. Get a small head of cauliflower, and break it into florets. You also need 3 pounds of boned, skinless, chicken thighs . You could use thighs with the skin, or the bone, or both if you like. If you get chicken with bones in it, though, you will need a cleaver, because you need to cut these into small pieces - say an inch to 2 inches. Pat them dry. This is very important. You also need a large bunch of scallions, that you slice up. Don't bother separating them. Also, a few cloves of chopped garlic, a big (28/35 ounce), can of tomatoes, that you crush with your hands, a cup and a half of chicken stock, and finally, these really interesting ingredients: half a cup of chopped, dried cherries, and a big tablespoon of peanut butter. Annalena did not have peanut butter, and used tahini. Your choice.
Let's cook. Put three tablespoons of vegetable oil into a big pan, and when it's hot, start adding the cauliflower. Let it cook, undisturbed for about three minutes, then start stirring it up. You want to brown it a bit, but you also want it to keep firm. When you're done, put that to the side, and add 3 more tablespoons of oil. When that's hot, start adding your chicken. Brown it well. You have to be patient here, especially if you use skinless chicken, because the browning is much slower with that. It will probably take you about ten minutes. Put the cooked chicken in a separate bowl.
You will probably need to add a bit more oil at this point - maybe 1-2 tablespoons, but if you have plenty in the pan, terrific. Add the scallions, the garlic and your spice mix. Stir this for a minute and take in the aroma. It is a bit intoxicating, especially that coriander. . Now add the broth, and bring it to the boil. Stir while this happens, to pick up brown bits. Now add the tomatoes, cover the pot, lower the heat, and leave it alone for 15 minutes. After that, add the cherries and the nut paste, stir it together, and then add the chicken. Again, cover the pot, and cook this at low heat, for ten minutes. Now, add the cauliflower, and cook for another ten minutes. Keep a look at the liquid level. If it seems to be drying out, add more stock.
Taste this. You may find yourself wanting more salt, or some pepper, or both. That's fine. If you like, add some chopped parsley, or some green pepper, or toasted coconut, or sliced almonds, but don't add them all. You will want some boiled rice with this, I think.
And there it is. I bet you can even get finicky eaters to eat this. It's really good. Comforting in the way only chicken stew is. You can leave things out. So, if you're nut allergic, don't use the tahini or peanut butter. Don't have dried cherries? Maybe you have some cranberries, or maybe even sun dried tomatoes? At the end, just before you serve it, you may want to add a cup of frozen peas, as I did. And it gets better as it sits.
Do you know this dish in some other variation? Please share it with Annalena, and wish her luck as she moves to a new chapter of her life.
No, fear not. She did not move out on the Guy man, nor did the Guy man move out on her. Rather, Annalena made either the second, or third job change of her long working career this week. I began my first professional job in 1981, and then moved on in 1984. Then, depending on how you look at it, I either moved to a new job in 1998, or continued with my old one, as my company was absorbed into a larger one. Now, in 2011, I move on again, going back to my routes. A change from a firm of over 900 lawyers and many offices, to one of 45 and one. Culture shock? No. But culture change. For the better. Annalena is happy.
But the week being what it was, I was unable to bring you this recipe, which I have been meaning to. Background and digressions, first.
Many of you know how Annalena is absolutely fascinated with American "culturalisms" when it comes to food. Sourdough in San Francisco, bagels in New York, chili everywhere, apple pie everywhere, and so on and so forth. And there is always something new to learn.
Some months ago, on a menu inspired by James Beard, "country captain" appeared. Now, James Beard is one of Annalena's culinary idols. Arguably, he is the founder of American food. So if he inspired the menu and the dish is linked to him, Annalena wanted to know. Even moreso, since I have never heard of it.
What followed was some research and a great deal of learning about what may be an American equivalent of cassoulet. To summarize, you can go from town to town, city to city, in France, and you will never get the same recipe twice. As I moved from website to website, I found the same thing of this recipe, which is essentially a chicken stew, associated with "low country" cooking from the Southeast. I learned that this was one of FDR's favorite foods. I learned that there are competitions to make this dish. And so it goes.
As I got deeper into the research, I was also sorting through recipes which needed to be filed. And I found this one. Interestingly, it varies from most of the standard recipes, which almost all call for green peppers, and slivered almonds at the end.
It is a good recipe, with a somewhat involved list of ingredients, but there are short cuts one can take, as Annalena shall explain, and ultimately, it is a very easy dish to make.
So , let's go. You start with a tablespoon of curry powder, or make a spice mix. Here is the one I used: 1.5 teaspoon of coriander seeds, 1 teaspoon of fennel seeds, 1 teaspoon of cumin seeds, .5 teaspoon of whole black peppercorns, 3 cloves (whole), a half inch piece of cinnamon stick. You put all of this in that burr grinder I told you about, some recipes back, and grind it to a powder. Then you mix the powder with half a teaspoon of tumeric and , if you like, quarter teaspoon of cayenne pepper. You might also use paprika instead.
Now, to the vegetables. Get a small head of cauliflower, and break it into florets. You also need 3 pounds of boned, skinless, chicken thighs . You could use thighs with the skin, or the bone, or both if you like. If you get chicken with bones in it, though, you will need a cleaver, because you need to cut these into small pieces - say an inch to 2 inches. Pat them dry. This is very important. You also need a large bunch of scallions, that you slice up. Don't bother separating them. Also, a few cloves of chopped garlic, a big (28/35 ounce), can of tomatoes, that you crush with your hands, a cup and a half of chicken stock, and finally, these really interesting ingredients: half a cup of chopped, dried cherries, and a big tablespoon of peanut butter. Annalena did not have peanut butter, and used tahini. Your choice.
Let's cook. Put three tablespoons of vegetable oil into a big pan, and when it's hot, start adding the cauliflower. Let it cook, undisturbed for about three minutes, then start stirring it up. You want to brown it a bit, but you also want it to keep firm. When you're done, put that to the side, and add 3 more tablespoons of oil. When that's hot, start adding your chicken. Brown it well. You have to be patient here, especially if you use skinless chicken, because the browning is much slower with that. It will probably take you about ten minutes. Put the cooked chicken in a separate bowl.
You will probably need to add a bit more oil at this point - maybe 1-2 tablespoons, but if you have plenty in the pan, terrific. Add the scallions, the garlic and your spice mix. Stir this for a minute and take in the aroma. It is a bit intoxicating, especially that coriander. . Now add the broth, and bring it to the boil. Stir while this happens, to pick up brown bits. Now add the tomatoes, cover the pot, lower the heat, and leave it alone for 15 minutes. After that, add the cherries and the nut paste, stir it together, and then add the chicken. Again, cover the pot, and cook this at low heat, for ten minutes. Now, add the cauliflower, and cook for another ten minutes. Keep a look at the liquid level. If it seems to be drying out, add more stock.
Taste this. You may find yourself wanting more salt, or some pepper, or both. That's fine. If you like, add some chopped parsley, or some green pepper, or toasted coconut, or sliced almonds, but don't add them all. You will want some boiled rice with this, I think.
And there it is. I bet you can even get finicky eaters to eat this. It's really good. Comforting in the way only chicken stew is. You can leave things out. So, if you're nut allergic, don't use the tahini or peanut butter. Don't have dried cherries? Maybe you have some cranberries, or maybe even sun dried tomatoes? At the end, just before you serve it, you may want to add a cup of frozen peas, as I did. And it gets better as it sits.
Do you know this dish in some other variation? Please share it with Annalena, and wish her luck as she moves to a new chapter of her life.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Now THERE hangs a tale: oxtail bourguignonne
And don't think I didn't have trouble SPELLING that.
One of the more recent "trends" in cooking is what is being called, after Fergus Henderson's book "tip to tail" cooking. The thing is, you're supposed to use ALL of the animal, including what some would call "the nasty bits" or "the gnarly bits" and so forth.
Annalena sits back and shakes her head. This is NEW? She thinks not. Back in her childhood days (as compared to her youth, her middle age, and her dotage), one of the dishes Nana would serve forth ocassionally (when we were truly evil children), was "gabezelle." The older southern Italians amongst us will recognize it: sheep's head. The WHOLE head, brought to the table, steamed or boiled, with a tongue hanging out, eyes that were opaque from cooking, etc. It was, in a word, GROSS. I still shudder at the thought of my Nana, invoking some of her evilness saying "Here, darling. Let me serve you some of the eye. It's very good for seeing WHAT YOU DID WRONG."
And they wonder why I find "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane" a comedy.
But beyond that, we all have experienced, at least the choice, of eating "the nasty bits." I have had brain (not real fond of it: the texture skeeves me), tongue (LOVE IT!!!), liver (thank you, I'll pass unless it's foie gras), kidney (rabbit and lamb: absolutely), lung (in my student days: stuffed with oatmeal and steamed. Once was enough); my favorite tripe (stewed with tomatoes, Tuscan style, or pickled), pigs feet or trotters , or Italian sausages stuffed into the skin of the foot (wanna gross out your WASP friends? Hmmmm). So someone tell me: what is really new about all of this?
Which brings us to the dish of the moment, using ox tail. If you're going to go tip to tail, you do have to deal with the tail. Many people, I think, have the notion that the tails of animals are not edible, that they're all bone and skin or something like that. Not so. Unquestionably, they are bony, but the meat is delicious, in the same way that the neck of a duck is terrific (tonight, I am having MY version of Buffalo chicken wings, which is roasted duck neck with the same blue cheese sauce. YUM).
Fact is, the tail of beef type animals, is eaten everywhere. Just today, in the NY Times, there is a recipe for Jamaican style oxtail. Italians have "coda vaccinaria," and as I learned from my Korean vegetable lady Nevia, Koreans eat it all the time. I have had it as a stuffing for ravioli. And I believe I cooked it, once, about 20 years ago, but since I sometimes have trouble remembering 20 hours, let alone 20 days, this may not be so.
At some point, the meat must have come from oxen. As far as I know, oxen are not used as food animals anymore. So we keep the word "oxtail," but it comes from cows.
I saw this recipe, and immediately sent off a note to my meat man, Chip, for oxtail. And I was in luck: he put them aside for me.
OK, first disclosure: when you buy meat like this from a small supplier, it LOOKS like what it is. Even Annalena was a bit put off when she saw her oxtails, cut up and looking - yup - just like a tail - with a thick end, tapering to the tiny end. OK, buck up Annalena, you've cooked tripe, you can do this. And I brought em home and made this dish. It's GOOD.
Now, as we go through this, I am going to tell you where I changed things. The base recipe is a classic bourguignonne, which is rather involved. I simplified it.
I am going to run down the ingredients list here first. You will need about 5 pounds of oxtails. As with all meat, get grass fed if you can. You will also need a few sprigs of thyme, and a couple of bay leaves (the recipe called for fresh bay leaves. Good luck). You also need a cup and a half of flour, mixed with a couple of teaspoons of salt. Put that on a flat surface, like a baking sheet. You will want to chop up enough onions to measure two cups, and don't worry about fine surgery. Also, a cup of chopped up carrots, and then about 2 cups of them, cut into small cubes. About six cloves of garlic, smashed, but not chopped. 2 cups of beef stock, and 2 cups of red wine. REMEMBER: cook with stuff you'd drink, but don't use the 90 dollar Kistler to make this stew. A pound of mushrooms of some kind (the recipe called for sliced creminis, which I used. Next time, I will quarter them, but you could use whatever you like). Finally, about a cup of chopped leeks. (The recipe called for 12 peeled shallots. Annalena has resolved that she is never going to peel shallots again in her life).
Now, we cook. Put six tablespoons of olive oil in a big pan or pot (the recipe called for cooking bacon to get the drippings, and then putting aside the bacon "for another use. " Bite me. Olive oil is fine. ). Get the oxtail pieces, pat them dry, and then turn them in the flour to coat them. You'll be much happier doing this on the flat surface than in a bowl. Trust me. Heat up the olive oil and when it's really hot, brown that oxtail and brown it GOOD. There is something about the meat quality of oxtails, such that they don't brown as richly as other cuts, but they DO brown. You just have to be patient. Brown them all over. It will probably take you 6-10 minutes a panful, and you'll probably do two pans ful.
Now, at the end of this, you'll have the browned oxtails, saved in a bowl or something, and a very ucky pan. The flour will have come off and blackened. Don't do what the recipe said, which is to continue with this fat. Drain it off, clean your pan and add 3 more tablespoons of olive oil, as you add the onions, the chopped carrots, and half of the garlic to the new oil. Put in a teaspoon of salt, and saute' until the onion begins to soften. Probably another six minutes or so. Now add the thyme, the bay leaf, the broth the wine and of course, the oxtail (so you better have a nice big pot). Bring this all to a boil, and when it comes to a boil, do one of two things. Either cover the pot and lower the heat REAL low (a flame disperser is a good thing here), or cover the pot and move it to a 350 oven. Leave this alone for a good, solid three hours. The meat will have begun to tenderize at that point, and your house is going to smell wonderful. At the end of the three hours, add your mushrooms , leeks, the remaining garlic, and your cubed carrots. Cover the pot, and continue to cook for another 45 minutes to an hour (I think, by the way, squash is wonderful here as substitute).
The recipe instructs you to now "tilt the pot and spoon off the fat." Again, good luck. But while the second cook is going on, mix a couple of tablespoons of butter with an equal amount of flour, to make a paste. Rather than tilting the pot, which will only frustrate you, get that bowl back and take the meat and as much of the vegetable matter out, as you can. You'll be surprised how little liquid is left. Stir in that paste you just made, and cook at low heat for about 8 minutes. This is going to thicken the sauce (there is a technical term for this which Annalena's spongy brain cannot remember). Add everything back in.
You can continue to cook this for a couple of hours. It won't hurt it. Or you can let it cool, and then refrigerate it. After refrigeration, the fat will come to the surface and harden. Scoop it off when you rewarm the dish. Have your salt shaker ready. It will need it.
This is positively yummy. It's a great dish. It really is. The oxtails give a thick silky richness that is very hard to explain. So, buck up your courage, get those oxtails, and make a braise. You'll come back to this one again. Promise.
One of the more recent "trends" in cooking is what is being called, after Fergus Henderson's book "tip to tail" cooking. The thing is, you're supposed to use ALL of the animal, including what some would call "the nasty bits" or "the gnarly bits" and so forth.
Annalena sits back and shakes her head. This is NEW? She thinks not. Back in her childhood days (as compared to her youth, her middle age, and her dotage), one of the dishes Nana would serve forth ocassionally (when we were truly evil children), was "gabezelle." The older southern Italians amongst us will recognize it: sheep's head. The WHOLE head, brought to the table, steamed or boiled, with a tongue hanging out, eyes that were opaque from cooking, etc. It was, in a word, GROSS. I still shudder at the thought of my Nana, invoking some of her evilness saying "Here, darling. Let me serve you some of the eye. It's very good for seeing WHAT YOU DID WRONG."
And they wonder why I find "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane" a comedy.
But beyond that, we all have experienced, at least the choice, of eating "the nasty bits." I have had brain (not real fond of it: the texture skeeves me), tongue (LOVE IT!!!), liver (thank you, I'll pass unless it's foie gras), kidney (rabbit and lamb: absolutely), lung (in my student days: stuffed with oatmeal and steamed. Once was enough); my favorite tripe (stewed with tomatoes, Tuscan style, or pickled), pigs feet or trotters , or Italian sausages stuffed into the skin of the foot (wanna gross out your WASP friends? Hmmmm). So someone tell me: what is really new about all of this?
Which brings us to the dish of the moment, using ox tail. If you're going to go tip to tail, you do have to deal with the tail. Many people, I think, have the notion that the tails of animals are not edible, that they're all bone and skin or something like that. Not so. Unquestionably, they are bony, but the meat is delicious, in the same way that the neck of a duck is terrific (tonight, I am having MY version of Buffalo chicken wings, which is roasted duck neck with the same blue cheese sauce. YUM).
Fact is, the tail of beef type animals, is eaten everywhere. Just today, in the NY Times, there is a recipe for Jamaican style oxtail. Italians have "coda vaccinaria," and as I learned from my Korean vegetable lady Nevia, Koreans eat it all the time. I have had it as a stuffing for ravioli. And I believe I cooked it, once, about 20 years ago, but since I sometimes have trouble remembering 20 hours, let alone 20 days, this may not be so.
At some point, the meat must have come from oxen. As far as I know, oxen are not used as food animals anymore. So we keep the word "oxtail," but it comes from cows.
I saw this recipe, and immediately sent off a note to my meat man, Chip, for oxtail. And I was in luck: he put them aside for me.
OK, first disclosure: when you buy meat like this from a small supplier, it LOOKS like what it is. Even Annalena was a bit put off when she saw her oxtails, cut up and looking - yup - just like a tail - with a thick end, tapering to the tiny end. OK, buck up Annalena, you've cooked tripe, you can do this. And I brought em home and made this dish. It's GOOD.
Now, as we go through this, I am going to tell you where I changed things. The base recipe is a classic bourguignonne, which is rather involved. I simplified it.
I am going to run down the ingredients list here first. You will need about 5 pounds of oxtails. As with all meat, get grass fed if you can. You will also need a few sprigs of thyme, and a couple of bay leaves (the recipe called for fresh bay leaves. Good luck). You also need a cup and a half of flour, mixed with a couple of teaspoons of salt. Put that on a flat surface, like a baking sheet. You will want to chop up enough onions to measure two cups, and don't worry about fine surgery. Also, a cup of chopped up carrots, and then about 2 cups of them, cut into small cubes. About six cloves of garlic, smashed, but not chopped. 2 cups of beef stock, and 2 cups of red wine. REMEMBER: cook with stuff you'd drink, but don't use the 90 dollar Kistler to make this stew. A pound of mushrooms of some kind (the recipe called for sliced creminis, which I used. Next time, I will quarter them, but you could use whatever you like). Finally, about a cup of chopped leeks. (The recipe called for 12 peeled shallots. Annalena has resolved that she is never going to peel shallots again in her life).
Now, we cook. Put six tablespoons of olive oil in a big pan or pot (the recipe called for cooking bacon to get the drippings, and then putting aside the bacon "for another use. " Bite me. Olive oil is fine. ). Get the oxtail pieces, pat them dry, and then turn them in the flour to coat them. You'll be much happier doing this on the flat surface than in a bowl. Trust me. Heat up the olive oil and when it's really hot, brown that oxtail and brown it GOOD. There is something about the meat quality of oxtails, such that they don't brown as richly as other cuts, but they DO brown. You just have to be patient. Brown them all over. It will probably take you 6-10 minutes a panful, and you'll probably do two pans ful.
Now, at the end of this, you'll have the browned oxtails, saved in a bowl or something, and a very ucky pan. The flour will have come off and blackened. Don't do what the recipe said, which is to continue with this fat. Drain it off, clean your pan and add 3 more tablespoons of olive oil, as you add the onions, the chopped carrots, and half of the garlic to the new oil. Put in a teaspoon of salt, and saute' until the onion begins to soften. Probably another six minutes or so. Now add the thyme, the bay leaf, the broth the wine and of course, the oxtail (so you better have a nice big pot). Bring this all to a boil, and when it comes to a boil, do one of two things. Either cover the pot and lower the heat REAL low (a flame disperser is a good thing here), or cover the pot and move it to a 350 oven. Leave this alone for a good, solid three hours. The meat will have begun to tenderize at that point, and your house is going to smell wonderful. At the end of the three hours, add your mushrooms , leeks, the remaining garlic, and your cubed carrots. Cover the pot, and continue to cook for another 45 minutes to an hour (I think, by the way, squash is wonderful here as substitute).
The recipe instructs you to now "tilt the pot and spoon off the fat." Again, good luck. But while the second cook is going on, mix a couple of tablespoons of butter with an equal amount of flour, to make a paste. Rather than tilting the pot, which will only frustrate you, get that bowl back and take the meat and as much of the vegetable matter out, as you can. You'll be surprised how little liquid is left. Stir in that paste you just made, and cook at low heat for about 8 minutes. This is going to thicken the sauce (there is a technical term for this which Annalena's spongy brain cannot remember). Add everything back in.
You can continue to cook this for a couple of hours. It won't hurt it. Or you can let it cool, and then refrigerate it. After refrigeration, the fat will come to the surface and harden. Scoop it off when you rewarm the dish. Have your salt shaker ready. It will need it.
This is positively yummy. It's a great dish. It really is. The oxtails give a thick silky richness that is very hard to explain. So, buck up your courage, get those oxtails, and make a braise. You'll come back to this one again. Promise.
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