illdothedisheslater

(Cue Homer Simpson drooling noise.)

At long last a Costco has come to my city.  Last week I shuffled through the lines with everyone else to see what all the fuss was about, and now I get it:  Short Ribs.  There glistening in the butcher case were the most beautiful boneless beef short ribs I had ever seen.  The grocery near my house carries them sporadically, and they are roughly the size of my middle finger.  While I have extra large hands that look as though they should be tinkling the ivories or palming a basketball, they would not make for good eating.  These, however – wow.  Take a look:

Beautiful.  They don’t even require any trimming.   Also purchased at Costco:  9 miles of aluminum foil and a jar of mayonnaise the size of my head.  I feel rich.  The plan for my ribs is long slow cooking at a low temperature (300 degrees) in beef broth and red wine until they’re almost falling apart.   I’m going to roast some vegetables (see roasted vegetable post) and turn the braising liquid into a sauce and serve the whole mess over buttered egg noodles.  The truth is that it’s been a shitacular week at my office, and I want some comfort food.

So step one is to brown the meat in a little olive oil.  Pat the ribs dry and sprinkle liberally with salt.  I don’t like to use black pepper up front, since it scorches and turns bitter while sautéing on high heat.

I’m also making the mistake of using a non-stick pan, which will deter the Maillard Effect (browning – amino acids and sugars reacting to heat, forming new flavor compounds.) (Science, y’all!).  If I had used a proper pan, the meat would stick to it until it was browned adequately.  The crispy stuck-on bits (the fond) would then be scraped up in a deglazing liquid to add depth to the sauce.  I skipped this part because I don’t want to scrub a pan today.  Pure laziness.

 

I want to eat them NOW.  They look fantastic, but I know they will be as tough as an old boot and purply-raw inside.  Still.

Pour one cup of beef broth and one cup of dry red wine into a Dutch oven and nestle the ribs down into the liquid.   The secret to braising (also known as pot roasting) is to only cover the meat about two-thirds of the way – otherwise you’re just boiling it.

To add some depth of flavor (a bullshitty term I learned watching Top Chef), I rig a little bouquet garni bag out of a scrap of cheesecloth with two large cloves of garlic (peeled and smashed with the flat of a knife), one teaspoon of crushed red pepper (which I realize now I add to almost everything), and one teaspoon of whole black peppercorns.  I simply fold it and tie it up.   I am not a believer in the stupid lonely bay leaf.

The finished product looks gross and cocoon-like.

This goes into the oven at 300 degrees, and will stay there for around 3 hours.  Halfway in, flip the ribs over.  That’s it for the ribs – they will be fork-tender and almost falling apart when you lift them out of the pot.  Put on a plate and tent loosely with foil.  Throw out the now-disgusting-looking bouquet, but don’t pour out that liquid – that’s going to turn into sauce.  Pour it into a smaller pot.

Put the pot on the stove at medium heat.  Add another cup of wine, and herbs and spices to your heart’s content.  Black pepper, a little dill maybe.  Some ground oregano would be nice.  A little splash of soy sauce will add some saltiness and, yes, more depth.  Reduce by about half.  It should be thickening now.  Dip a clean knife into it – it should “cling”, which is a fancy way to say the sauce sticks to the knife.  Remove from the heat.  Chop half a stick of butter into small pieces, and one by one, whisk them into the sauce.   This makes sort of a fake beurre rouge, which I tried to make once and only succeeded in boiling away a perfectly good bottle of wine.

I also skipped the “skim the fat” step, because I think fat tastes great.

While I’m not much for garnishes, I did have some pre-made pie crusts in the fridge, leftover from my prosciutto challenge.  I cut it into strips with a fluted pastry wheel (a silly impulse purchase I have used exactly three times) and baked them to lay on top – the flaky crust adds a touch of class to the otherwise homely dish, and now I could probably call it “Deconstructed Beef Pot Pie” or something.

Serve over buttered egg noodles (more butter!), add the roasted vegetables, and spoon sauce all over everything.  A little parmesan cheese on top would not be unwelcome.

This meal will not make up for the week that was, but it certainly can’t hurt.