Did you miss me? "Tuscan" Pot Roast

Ciao ragazzi. It has in fact been nearly a month that Annalena has been away, has it not? Shameful, regretful, necessary and all those things. To explain all the considerations would be akin to torture (which some of you would not mind), but let us leave it as: I DID MISS YOU!!!! Yes indeed, to the extent that folks comment, I did miss them. And now, let them begin again.

There is a tendency in cooking to apply adjectives to dishes, that ultimately do not make sense. Frequently, they are geographic. For example, last week, Annalena read of how the First Lady ( one of her favorite people), had "picked at a plate of Venetian apricot chicken."

Well, Annalena is no slouch at Italian food, but she is totally at a loss as to what makes a chicken dish "Venetian," and certainly does not understand the connection between Venice and apricots. Can anyone out there comment? Of course, this belies the question: was the dish any good?

In a similar fashion, Annalena pilfered this recipe from one of her favorite chefs, Joanne Weir, tweaked it a bit, and presents it to you. What makes it "Tuscan" rather than any other Italian region is a bit baffling to Annalena, who had been taught that "Tuscan" inevitably meant beans were involved. There are no such beans in this recipe, and honestly, the seasonings and additives sound distinctly Southern, except it IS a "pot roast," which means it is a large piece of beef, and that is distinctly NOT Southern Italian. And, as students of Annalena will know, large pieces of meat, in the Italian tradition, are usually Florentine, which is of course in Tuscany (Annalena begs you not to draw conclusions between culinary dishes and dishes of the ambulatory type).

In any event, it is indeed a wonderful dish, and you must make it. Really, you must. It is another one of those dishes that calls out for a cold day when you want something slow cooked for the morrow, that will warm your innards. Let us go to it.

The only exotic ingredient you will need, are some dried mushrooms. Chef Weir calls for porcini, and Annalena endorses this. Half an ounce, which is probably what you will get in those little tiny packets that you find at the store. Cover them with three cups of boiling water, and leave them alone.

You will need a large chuck roast here. Annalena used two, smaller, boneless ones, and that will work, as will a larger one. Ultimately, you want about four pounds of meat. If there is a bone in the roast, you will have to think in terms of five. If you can, salt and pepper it and leave it overnight in the fridge. If not, do it right before the next step, but please do it. And be generous.

Get a tablespoon of olive oil hot in a big, solid pot that will stand up to slow cooking. Le Creuset comes to mind. You know the others. Brown the meat well. Here, please take your time. Annalena spent a good 3-5 minutes per side . When it is done, put it aside for a few minutes.

You now take a chopped onion, a chopped carrot and a stalk of celery that has also been chopped (you can chunk these and put them in your food processor to break them down), and put them into the same pan, at medium heat. You cook them until they soften. Ms. Weir says fifteen minutes. Annalena advises against this. Five-six were all she needed . Now you add drained porcini mushrooms, but do not toss the liquid away. Also, add five, chopped garlic cloves.

While these aromatics are cooking away, get a large bowl and mix up a can of tomatoes. Annalena used New Jersey pureed tomatoes, but you may use what you have, as long as the quality is good (a 28-35 ounce can, please), with the porcini liquid, a cup of a red wine (this being "Tuscan" chianti seems called for. Annalena used zinfandel), and a quarter cup of tomato paste. She left out the sugar that was called for. When you've stirred this together, put it in the pan with the vegetables, and then add the browned meat. Raise the heat to bring it to a boil, and then... immediately reduce the heat, to the slowest bubble you can achieve. If you happen to have a wonderful device, called a heat disperser (essentially a metal plate, to put under a pot), use it here. Cover the pot, and let it cook for an hour. Then, uncover, do not increase the heat, and let it bubble away, very slowly, for at least 2, or even 3 hours, or more. After 2 hours, prod it to see if it's tender. Annalena's grass fed, smaller pieces took a grand total of about 3.5 hours to cook, on Superbowl Sunday. This included the first hour, with the cover, and then the others. It is a question of tenderness here (is it not always?), and when you pierce the meat with a knife, it should "yield." You will know it when you feel it.

A braised roast like this (contradiction in terms, eh? "braised roast"), is always better the second day. Serve it with polenta, or pasta, or noodles, or spatzle, or just cut it into slices and eat it cold on Italian bread, for sandwiches.

This is good food. And it begs a question that Dave, the erudite farmer asked Annalena: "what is pot roast?"

Well, Annalena was stuck for an answer, and this of course raises questions beyond the adjective, but to the noun: what is.... (fill in your favorite blank). We could very well have a culinary existentialist crisis if we are doing things like this, but since Annalena is dedicating this recipe to Il Gattopardo, perhaps that is not the best thing to do.