Archive for the 'beef' Category
Oy.
Are we really being sucked back into the cold reality that is January 4th tomorrow morning? Although the holidays have been wonderful and busy, I feel like I haven’t spent quite enough horizontal time on the couch in my flannel PJ pants surfing food blogs and watching The Office and Flight of the Conchords on DVD. What I love best about this time of year is that no one expects anything of you – to answer your emails, even – for the week between Christmas and New Years’ Eve. Of course I was back at work last week anyway, covering traffic for the provincial shows on Tuesday and Wednesday – but any work done during the last week of December seems extra-productive somehow, sort of like working on a Sunday.
I also feel like I haven’t quite kept up with my end of the bargain here – over the past few weeks I let a good half the festivities slip through the cracks without keeping you abreast of what was being consumed, where and why; my synapses dulled by butter, cream, wine and Robaxacet. And now it’s not timely anymore. Spinning the tale of my gingerbread trifle the week we all get back to work is about as appealing as spinning some Bing and Bowie on Easter weekend. I do have paragraphs written (that truthfully sound more like an uninspired letter home from summer camp) – I do believe I’ll just go ahead and hit delete and get on with it. Out with the old and all that.
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January 03 2010 | beef and bison | 33 Comments »
Sorry for the late post – we were making rather merry last night. It could have been the copious amounts of French food and wine that knocked me out mid-post, laptop on my stomach like a heating pad. I woke up at 5am with butter sweats and my contacts fused to my eyeballs. This morning my jaw is sore – almost like it had been overused – got a boot-camp workout with me eating enough for a week in a couple hours.
So this is where, last night, I began:
Friends, behold something you’ll not see again for a very long time: my dining room table, set.
(As in, my dining room table is SET, not my dining room table set. It’s a Christmas miracle!)
All I can say is it’s a good thing I went to my Mom’s for brunch this morning, because when it comes to table dressing I am a total idiot. None of her finesse in this arena seems to have worn off on me at all. If I manage to pick up a few flowers and think to stick them in a clear vase full of cranberries, I consider myself extremely Martha. She sent me home with a basket of chargers, linens, matching plates and a vase full of dried flowers.
Although it did look lovely, and having W spend the afternoon at my sister’s may have been a contributing factor to my success, I’m not sure I could keep it up: this setting the table thing is kinda for the birds. Kudos to those of you who can muster linens, chargers and such every night of the week: it does add to the dining experience. (It also unfortunately adds to the cleaning-up experience.)
But let’s get to the point, shall we? The whole reason I put shimmery red stuff on my table in the first place? Our Julie & Julia-themed dinner party! Attended by some of my favourite writer-eaters: Pierre, Gail, Gwendolyn and Cheryl and their significant others. It was a potluck – which are making a comeback, have you heard? I heartily recommend them – people love to bring food, and if not, they can always buy stuff. It takes the pressure off you, and minimizes dishes.
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December 07 2009 | beef | 19 Comments »
My good pal Pierre just launched his brand-new very first cookbook, named Kitchen Scraps for his blog, and I don’t think I ever did properly congratulate him. I mean, I went to his book launch and ate a lot, something I’m willing to do for only the closest of friends, and even swallowed my very first escargot (sorry Pierre, a slug’s a slug), but I never did publicly pat him on the back. His new book is brilliant – funny, entertaining, well written. Perfect bedtime reading. I love the illustration of the guy with the hairy chest about to be jolted back to life by one of those things they used to use on every episode of Emergency! (with Randolph Mantooth – I can’t honestly believe I remember his name – funny what your brain holds onto and what it jettisons) because he ate a heart attack sandwich. Sorry I can’t tell you what’s on it, you’ll have to get the book. Or check out his blog.
So this is Pierre’s recipe, from his new book. I made it for an article I was working on on the subject of offal. I adapted it a little, baking the pastry right on the pie instead of cutting rounds to bake separately. To be honest, I picked at it a little before leaving to teach a hands-on hors d’oeuvres class at the Cookbook Company tonight, and then left Mike to have his way with it. I came home to about half in the fridge. I imagine W picked out a few chunks of meat and asked for eggs on toast.
Steak & Kidney Cowpie
The Offal Truth: The biological function of a kidney is to filter urine. The unfortunate result is that kidneys can smell like pee. If you can get over this inevitable truth there are a couple tricks to diminish this smell, like soaking them in vinegar and salt, but the smell will probably linger like your six-year-old cousin’s mattress. If there is absolutely no way you will eat kidney, you can substitute mushrooms.
1 calf’s kidney, or substitute 30 button mushrooms, quartered
2 Tbsp. white vinegar (any kind)
2 Tbsp. kosher or sea salt
2 lb stewing beef or chuck steak, cut into 1-inch cubes
vegetable oil for the pan, up to 2 Tbsp for onions
3 Tbsp. flour
1 onion, chopped
2 cups beef broth
1 cup Guinness
1 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
pinch of nutmeg
salt and pepper
1 package frozen puff pastry, thawed
Soak the kidney overnight in water with the vinegar and salt in the fridge. Replace the soaking solution as often as you like.
Remove and discard the white membranous material from the kidney, and dice the glumpy lumps into small 1/2-inch cubes and get them into a bowl.
In a big pot over medium-high heat, heat some oil and start to brown the cubed beef in small batches, removing the beef when it is browned onto a large plate or casserole dish. The meat doesn’t need to be cooked through, just browned on the outside for flavour. After you have browned all the beef, brown little batches of the kidney (or mushrooms), and then transfer to the same dish as the beef.
Reduce the heat to medium, pour in some oil if the drippings don’t amount to about 2 Tbsp, and cook the onion until it is translucent, about 5 minutes. Sprinkle in the flour evenly and mix it up a bit with a wooden spoon. Crank the heat to full blast and throw in the beef broth and the Guinness. Scrape the sticky bits off the bottom of the pan. Now add all the previously browned beef along with their juices, and the kidneys (or mushrooms), Worcestershire sauce, nutmeg, and salt and pepper. Drop the heat to low, cover and simmer for at least 2 hours.
Spoon the mixture into a baking dish that will accommodate it, and top with the pastry – no need to cut it to shape, just drape it over the top and let the edges hang over. Press them against the sides of the dish. Bake at 400F for about 15 minutes, until the pastry is golden and it’s all heated through. Serves 6 close friends.
November 30 2009 | beef | 16 Comments »
Check this out. Sometimes this all-encompassing obsession with food has its benefits. (Excuse me, please, while I pat myself on the back for this one. Although I’m quite certain someone somewhere has already thought of it – they can get equal kudos for their obvious culinary brilliance.)
So I was driving recently, or rather I was daydreaming in the passenger seat, imagining myself eating a meatloaf sandwich. Some fantasize about George Clooney; my mind wanders to meatloaf. Can you blame me, really? Meatloaf sandwiches are the best, aren’t they? I mean, they are more often than not my motivation for making meatloaf in the first place. That, and ketchup.
So it occurred to me that one could morph meatloaf and burgers on the barbecue. Although I am a longtime fan of the grilled burger, I don’t make them often at home. (This could be partly due to my underlying prejudice against homemade burgers, instilled at an early age when my Dad would broil patties made with extra-lean ground beef and oat bran in approximately a 50-50 ratio. He’s a gastroenterologist; I suppose this excuses him for being a particularly vocal advocate of fiber. Needless to say, my first fast-food burger was a mind-blowing revelation.)
But – meatloaf. You could bake a meatloaf, and then chill it, and then grill thick slabs to heat it through, brushing with barbecue sauce or the sticky glaze normally reserved for the top of a meatloaf. Couldn’t you? Oh yes. You sure could. Especially if you had leftovers.
Bonus: this relieves any pressure of whomever is in charge of the barbecue to ensure they cook the burgers through without overcooking them, as well as the need to break one or two open to see just how pink they are inside. Because hey, the meatloaf is cooked already.
If you need a meatloaf recipe, there are plenty to be found online. Cook it, chill it, slice it thick. If there is a glaze, save it to brush on while you grill. Then all you need to do is add a slab of aged white cheddar (or, you know, whatever) after the first flip, and close the lid so that it melts.
And so it has come to be that W will not carry a homemade burger prejudice on his shoulders into adulthood.
One Year Ago: Black Currant Sorbet & Ginger Ale Floats
August 15 2009 | beef and on the grill | 22 Comments »
I pulled a pound of ground (Galloway beef from Second to None meats) out of the freezer last night with no real plans for it. Tonight, after painting a bowl as part of the Empty Bowls Benefit for the Calgary Inter-faith Food Bank and coming home with no dinner plan, I noticed half bag of Italian buns in the breadbox and got a sudden urge for sloppy Joes. It seems to me the penultimate working weeknight family meal. (With peas.)
When I was a kid, sloppy Joes were about as close as to a burgers as we got. Closer even than the made-from-scratch burgers my dad made out of extra-lean ground beef and oat bran (in approximately equal quantities) which I called sawdust burgers and which discouraged my friends from staying for dinner. Now it is becoming evident that I am in fact turning into my Dad, as I do things like bring bagels and cheese to the zoo (instead of buying food there) and am excited to tell you how easy it is to sneak ground flaxseed into things like sloppy Joes – anything with chunky texture, like chili or spaghetti sauce, makes a good candidate. It seems I have developed a taste for frugality as well as grainy breads.
I’m sure their sweetness was a big part of the reason I loved SJs so much – between the ketchup and brown sugar, it’s sweet, saucy meat on a bun. Although a soft bun is considered the classic vehicle, sloppy Joes are phenomenal on split cheese biscuits or a thick wedge of cheddar beer bread.
Sloppy Joes
a drizzle of canola or olive oil
1 onion, chopped
1 red bell pepper, seeded and chopped (optional)
2 garlic cloves, crushed
1 lb. lean ground beef or bison
1 14 oz. (398 mL) can diced, whole or stewed tomatoes
1/2 cup ketchup or barbecue sauce, or some of each
1 Tbsp. brown sugar
1 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
Salt and pepper
soft buns, cheese buns, plain or cheese biscuits
Heat the oil in a large saucepan set over medium-high heat and sauté the onion, celery, red pepper and garlic for about 10 minutes, until the onions are starting to turn golden. Add the meat and cook for about 5 minutes, breaking it up as you cook, until the meat is no longer pink.
Add the tomatoes, ketchup, vinegar, brown sugar, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco, and salt and pepper to taste and simmer for 20-30 minutes, until the sauce has thickened. Split the buns or biscuits in half and ladle the sloppy Joe mixture on top. Serves 4-6.
One Year Ago: Peanut Noodles (weird!)
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April 15 2009 | beef and freezable and sandwiches | 11 Comments »
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