things i have learned i should never write: cookbooks
I know what you are all thinking right now. You are all thinking, "Hmmm, I wonder why I am at such a low level of irritation tonight!" PROBABLY IT IS BECAUSE I HAVE NOT BEEN AROUND TO POST A MILLION AND FIVE THINGS. Alas for you, I am here now, and will probably post again tonight because there is something wrong with me, I'm sorry, it's terrible, I know.
BUT. Okay, so, everyone and their brother was making cookies today--seriously, my entire twitterfeed was making cookies, what is happening, IS IT NATIONAL COOKIE DAY, WHERE WAS MY MEMO--but I am not everyone, and my brother wanted stew. And I thought to myself as I was making the stew, "Hey, self, it is widely agreed by assorted members of your family that this is the second-best thing you make, and since you have all kinds of weird BUT IT'S FAMILY ennui about posting your chicken soup secrets, perhaps you should share this with the class instead." So here I am. Sharing.
Some things this recipe is not: vegetarian friendly, even remotely Kosher, good for you. Seriously, like, augh, this is not Paula Deen bad for you, but it is definitely Ina Garten bad for you. I don't generally spend much time thinking about calories/fat content/whatever--which is possibly because my 13-year-old self was like FUCK SCALES, FUCK MAGAZINES, I WILL EAT LESS IF MY PANTS GET TOO TIGHT AND MORE IF THEY GET TOO LOOSE, OBSESSING ABOUT MY WEIGHT IS STUPID and I never stopped living that way--but I do generally try to stick to eating food that is good for my body, because eating well is great for mental health. This is not that kind of food. At all. BE WARNED.
Some general notes:
a) I am allergic to dairy; anywhere I say "butter," I actually used margarine. I say butter because you should probably use butter, I hear it's better.
b) Unless I'm baking I don't cook with measurements; my philosophy in the kitchen is largely either "I will read this recipe once and shop/cook based on what I vaguely remember" or, more often, "HERE'S A BUNCH OF THINGS, LALALALA, INTO THE POT THEY GO." This is my recipe, so I can't even point you guys to a version of it with measurements and tell you where to tweak. SORRY GUYS.
c) I wrote this in a conversational, cooking-for-complete-morons format so I can send it to Burro and his frat brothers. I know many of you guys know what "rendering bacon" means, but trust me, Burro and the bros do not. I AM NOT TALKING DOWN TO YOU; I AM TALKING DOWN TO MY BROTHER. Mostly I didn't want to have to write this out twice.
d) Much like that urban legend about the test that you should read over first because the last question is something like "Write your name on top of the page and turn in the test entirely blank for full credit," you should...read this through...before you cook this. Because I am not good at linear thought and this is basically just my average rambling, but about making stew.
OKAY. FORWARD MARCH.
Beef Stew, The Way Burro Likes It: A Recipe, Sort of, And Many Cautionary Tales
Start by grabbing a bottle of your favorite red wine--red wine. Red wine. I don't give a fuck what kind of red you use, I don't know really know shit about wine, I have used all varieties of red for this stew, some of which would probably horrify people with actual wine knowledge. I used the Two Buck Chuck Cab I had around my house tonight, but any red wine you're willing to drink will do, so long as it is, I say again, red. This is mostly a note for my college roommate; if you are out there reading this, college roommate, WHITE ZIN IS STILL NOT RED WINE, OH MY GOD. PUT IT DOWN AND BACK AWAY SLOWLY.
Everyone else: take that red and pour yourself a nice big glass of it. Drink it and refill. You're about to sear beef in bacon grease; you want to be tipsy enough that the inevitable splatter won't make you yelp and wake your dog. Don't bother corking the bottle, you'll need the wine again.
Now take four pieces of good, thick cut hickory smoked bacon--and, okay, stop. A note on the bacon: I am not saying "good, thick cut hickory smoked bacon" as a suggestion. This is the kind of bacon you should buy. Do not buy thin sliced bacon, do not buy that nasty Oscar Meyer bacon that is upsettingly colored, and do not even think about buying turkey bacon, because the stew will know you thought about it, and it will punish you. Do not, under any circumstances, accidentally buy maple-flavored bacon and fail to notice it until you're 3/4 of the way through cooking the stew and mid-taste test and everything is coming up HORRIFYING.
...not...that I speak...from personal experience...or anything.
Right, so, the bacon. Take four slices of it and cut it into tiny pieces and render it in a stockpot. Or, to put it another way: take a pair of kitchen shears (waaaay easier than dirtying two cutting boards and an extra knife, trust me), and cut four pieces of bacon in half lengthwise. Then snip off little bite sized pieces into the bottom of the hot stockpot you're going to cook the stew in, and cook the living shit out of them. When you've got a bunch of little crispy bacon pieces and enough bacon grease in the bottom of your pan to make you rethink eating bacon ever again, you're done with this step! Take a slotted spoon (SLOTTED SPOON, LEST YOU DUMP BACON GREASE ALL OVER YOURSELF AND SCREAM BLOODY MURDER, TRUST ME AGAIN) and transfer the bacon into a bowl; put it aside for later.
Okay, now...really what you should do here is mix a bit of flour and some salt and pepper and dredge the meat (one package of standard stew meat, one package of beef shortribs) in it. It's better if you do this, but I can only be fucked about half the time. EITHER WAY, take the meat and drop it into the hot pan with the bacon grease and sear it. This means cook it until the outsides are brown but the inside isn't done. Remove from pan and set aside.
Take a minced onion (you can mince it while you're rendering the bacon if you're me and you like your cooking process to be fraught and adrenaline filled, or you can do it before you start, which is probably wiser) and drop it into your hot pan. Add a pat of butter, just because. Cook the onions until they are translucent and soft, and then add two to four cloves of minced garlic. A NOTE: MINCE THE GARLIC YOURSELF. DO NOT USE THAT SHIT THAT COMES PRE-MINCED IN THE JARS. THAT SHIT IS NOT GARLIC, IT IS NASTY. ESCHEW IT WHENEVER POSSIBLE. Cook together for another 30 seconds or so, and add sliced mushrooms. Any mushrooms will do, though I tend to buy pre-sliced Baby Bellas for ease and deliciousness.
Cook everything together until the mushrooms are brown and nutty and hnnnng. Really everything should be a sort of brownish color, between the bacon grease and the residue from searing the meat; this is good. It's normal. IT'S FLAVOR. Speaking of flavor, remember that red wine you left uncorked? Grab it and...add some. A couple of glugs, I don't know, I do this by feel, wine until it feels like enough wine. And then take your spoon/spatula/whatever you have on hand and scrape the living shit out of the bottom of your pan. All that brown shit stuck to the bottom is additional flavor, and the alcohol in the wine helps it come loose. This is called deglazing the pan, and it is a good thing to do.
Okay, now, add the cooked bacon and the seared meat and the potatoes you chopped up--oh, shit, I never told you to chop up potatoes, did I? GO BACK A COUPLE OF STEPS AND CHOP UP SOME POTATOES. Any potatoes except Idaho or blue will do, though if you feel like using blue potatoes to make the best potato salad in the history of time, mix honey mustard and mayo & pour it over the cooked blues while they're still warm, add sea salt and cracked black pepper and serve immediately, HOGOD SO GOOD. But yeah, little red potatoes work, fingerlings work, etc, etc. I tend to use Yukon Golds because I like their texture and flavor best. They should be chopped into bite-sized pieces.
SO, NOW YOU HAVE A POT FULL OF MEAT, BACON, POTATOES, ONIONS, GARLIC, MUSHROOMS, AND WINE. YUM. Dump in enough beef broth to cover the whole mess, let it come to a boil, turn the heat down low, and go do something else for an hour. When you come back, season with salt and pepper (which, oh god, this is the worst recipe write-up ever, you should have salted and peppered the meat before cooking, and also added both during the onions/garlic/mushroom stage) and thicken using...er....your preferred thickening agent? I make a roux (butter + flour, heyyyyy), but you could also probably use cornstarch or arrowroot if you wanted. The broth should be thick enough to coat the spoon, that is what you are going for.
THEN SERVE THAT SHIT UP WITH CRUSTY BREAD, THE END.
BUT. Okay, so, everyone and their brother was making cookies today--seriously, my entire twitterfeed was making cookies, what is happening, IS IT NATIONAL COOKIE DAY, WHERE WAS MY MEMO--but I am not everyone, and my brother wanted stew. And I thought to myself as I was making the stew, "Hey, self, it is widely agreed by assorted members of your family that this is the second-best thing you make, and since you have all kinds of weird BUT IT'S FAMILY ennui about posting your chicken soup secrets, perhaps you should share this with the class instead." So here I am. Sharing.
Some things this recipe is not: vegetarian friendly, even remotely Kosher, good for you. Seriously, like, augh, this is not Paula Deen bad for you, but it is definitely Ina Garten bad for you. I don't generally spend much time thinking about calories/fat content/whatever--which is possibly because my 13-year-old self was like FUCK SCALES, FUCK MAGAZINES, I WILL EAT LESS IF MY PANTS GET TOO TIGHT AND MORE IF THEY GET TOO LOOSE, OBSESSING ABOUT MY WEIGHT IS STUPID and I never stopped living that way--but I do generally try to stick to eating food that is good for my body, because eating well is great for mental health. This is not that kind of food. At all. BE WARNED.
Some general notes:
a) I am allergic to dairy; anywhere I say "butter," I actually used margarine. I say butter because you should probably use butter, I hear it's better.
b) Unless I'm baking I don't cook with measurements; my philosophy in the kitchen is largely either "I will read this recipe once and shop/cook based on what I vaguely remember" or, more often, "HERE'S A BUNCH OF THINGS, LALALALA, INTO THE POT THEY GO." This is my recipe, so I can't even point you guys to a version of it with measurements and tell you where to tweak. SORRY GUYS.
c) I wrote this in a conversational, cooking-for-complete-morons format so I can send it to Burro and his frat brothers. I know many of you guys know what "rendering bacon" means, but trust me, Burro and the bros do not. I AM NOT TALKING DOWN TO YOU; I AM TALKING DOWN TO MY BROTHER. Mostly I didn't want to have to write this out twice.
d) Much like that urban legend about the test that you should read over first because the last question is something like "Write your name on top of the page and turn in the test entirely blank for full credit," you should...read this through...before you cook this. Because I am not good at linear thought and this is basically just my average rambling, but about making stew.
OKAY. FORWARD MARCH.
Beef Stew, The Way Burro Likes It: A Recipe, Sort of, And Many Cautionary Tales
Start by grabbing a bottle of your favorite red wine--red wine. Red wine. I don't give a fuck what kind of red you use, I don't know really know shit about wine, I have used all varieties of red for this stew, some of which would probably horrify people with actual wine knowledge. I used the Two Buck Chuck Cab I had around my house tonight, but any red wine you're willing to drink will do, so long as it is, I say again, red. This is mostly a note for my college roommate; if you are out there reading this, college roommate, WHITE ZIN IS STILL NOT RED WINE, OH MY GOD. PUT IT DOWN AND BACK AWAY SLOWLY.
Everyone else: take that red and pour yourself a nice big glass of it. Drink it and refill. You're about to sear beef in bacon grease; you want to be tipsy enough that the inevitable splatter won't make you yelp and wake your dog. Don't bother corking the bottle, you'll need the wine again.
Now take four pieces of good, thick cut hickory smoked bacon--and, okay, stop. A note on the bacon: I am not saying "good, thick cut hickory smoked bacon" as a suggestion. This is the kind of bacon you should buy. Do not buy thin sliced bacon, do not buy that nasty Oscar Meyer bacon that is upsettingly colored, and do not even think about buying turkey bacon, because the stew will know you thought about it, and it will punish you. Do not, under any circumstances, accidentally buy maple-flavored bacon and fail to notice it until you're 3/4 of the way through cooking the stew and mid-taste test and everything is coming up HORRIFYING.
...not...that I speak...from personal experience...or anything.
Right, so, the bacon. Take four slices of it and cut it into tiny pieces and render it in a stockpot. Or, to put it another way: take a pair of kitchen shears (waaaay easier than dirtying two cutting boards and an extra knife, trust me), and cut four pieces of bacon in half lengthwise. Then snip off little bite sized pieces into the bottom of the hot stockpot you're going to cook the stew in, and cook the living shit out of them. When you've got a bunch of little crispy bacon pieces and enough bacon grease in the bottom of your pan to make you rethink eating bacon ever again, you're done with this step! Take a slotted spoon (SLOTTED SPOON, LEST YOU DUMP BACON GREASE ALL OVER YOURSELF AND SCREAM BLOODY MURDER, TRUST ME AGAIN) and transfer the bacon into a bowl; put it aside for later.
Okay, now...really what you should do here is mix a bit of flour and some salt and pepper and dredge the meat (one package of standard stew meat, one package of beef shortribs) in it. It's better if you do this, but I can only be fucked about half the time. EITHER WAY, take the meat and drop it into the hot pan with the bacon grease and sear it. This means cook it until the outsides are brown but the inside isn't done. Remove from pan and set aside.
Take a minced onion (you can mince it while you're rendering the bacon if you're me and you like your cooking process to be fraught and adrenaline filled, or you can do it before you start, which is probably wiser) and drop it into your hot pan. Add a pat of butter, just because. Cook the onions until they are translucent and soft, and then add two to four cloves of minced garlic. A NOTE: MINCE THE GARLIC YOURSELF. DO NOT USE THAT SHIT THAT COMES PRE-MINCED IN THE JARS. THAT SHIT IS NOT GARLIC, IT IS NASTY. ESCHEW IT WHENEVER POSSIBLE. Cook together for another 30 seconds or so, and add sliced mushrooms. Any mushrooms will do, though I tend to buy pre-sliced Baby Bellas for ease and deliciousness.
Cook everything together until the mushrooms are brown and nutty and hnnnng. Really everything should be a sort of brownish color, between the bacon grease and the residue from searing the meat; this is good. It's normal. IT'S FLAVOR. Speaking of flavor, remember that red wine you left uncorked? Grab it and...add some. A couple of glugs, I don't know, I do this by feel, wine until it feels like enough wine. And then take your spoon/spatula/whatever you have on hand and scrape the living shit out of the bottom of your pan. All that brown shit stuck to the bottom is additional flavor, and the alcohol in the wine helps it come loose. This is called deglazing the pan, and it is a good thing to do.
Okay, now, add the cooked bacon and the seared meat and the potatoes you chopped up--oh, shit, I never told you to chop up potatoes, did I? GO BACK A COUPLE OF STEPS AND CHOP UP SOME POTATOES. Any potatoes except Idaho or blue will do, though if you feel like using blue potatoes to make the best potato salad in the history of time, mix honey mustard and mayo & pour it over the cooked blues while they're still warm, add sea salt and cracked black pepper and serve immediately, HOGOD SO GOOD. But yeah, little red potatoes work, fingerlings work, etc, etc. I tend to use Yukon Golds because I like their texture and flavor best. They should be chopped into bite-sized pieces.
SO, NOW YOU HAVE A POT FULL OF MEAT, BACON, POTATOES, ONIONS, GARLIC, MUSHROOMS, AND WINE. YUM. Dump in enough beef broth to cover the whole mess, let it come to a boil, turn the heat down low, and go do something else for an hour. When you come back, season with salt and pepper (which, oh god, this is the worst recipe write-up ever, you should have salted and peppered the meat before cooking, and also added both during the onions/garlic/mushroom stage) and thicken using...er....your preferred thickening agent? I make a roux (butter + flour, heyyyyy), but you could also probably use cornstarch or arrowroot if you wanted. The broth should be thick enough to coat the spoon, that is what you are going for.
THEN SERVE THAT SHIT UP WITH CRUSTY BREAD, THE END.