BipolarLawyerCook

Yet again, I find myself besieged by carrots. I somehow got a five pound bag of carrots in my Boston Organics box that I know I didn’t order, but there it was, and there it remained. I have slowly begun using them up, but I think I am going to have to add a carrot count to my current recipes until all the orange pests are used up.

This time, I determined to try something else from Patricia Wells’ Vegetable Harvest. I admit that I am not a fan of her prose, though I can’t say why. But she’s friends with Susan Hermann Loomis, whose books and recipes I love, so I’m sure Ms. Wells is simply the subject of some unconscious prejudice on my part. And I’ll admit, Ms. Wells’ recipes are first-class– aside from the salad I made before, I’ve made a lemon tart from her Paris Cookbook and a riff on her Seven-Hour Leg of Lamb that were both excellent. So, in finding her recipe for Braised Beef with Carrots, I figured I was in good hands. The following is an adaptation of Ms. Wells’ recipe, so if you want the original proportions, feel free to email me.

Next, three pounds of carrots, peeled.

Then, a half a stick of salted butter. Do not fear butter, for it is your fatty friend.

Next, a three pound beef roast. I bought chuck roast, because that was on sale. But you can buy anything you like, it’s a free country. And maybe, if you buy enough beef, Matthew McConnaughey will come over and help you make dinner.

You’re also going to need 1 can of tomato paste (6 oz.), 3 cups of chicken broth, and 2 cups of red wine. I used a cheapo Zinfandel that isn’t too oaky. You will notice the carrots have also been cut into coins.

Now we have the cooking part. While you’ve been chopping pesky carrots, muttering under your breath, “breed like rabbits in my vegetable bin, will you? Take that!” you’ve been heating a largish (5 or 6 quart) pan or dutch oven, and plopped in your butter. Then, put in your beef, and brown it.

See how there’s room around the meat? That prevents the meat from steaming, and lets it get nice and deeply flavored from the browning. At this step you should also season the meat. Aside from butter, your new fatty friend, you will now introduce your roast to Mr. Sel and Madame Paprika, or salt and pepper to those of you who didn’t skip Contracts as a 1L to watch Blue’s Clues.

As you see, I have a handy-dandy “Salt Pig” that the Better Half and I bought, because it was cute and because we are gadget freaks. But you can use a bowl, your hands, or even the box. Give the roast a good sprinkling of salt, as well as a liberal peppering of pepper.

Is it brown yet? Not until it looks like this. It might take five minutes or so to get to this point. Don’t rush it. Would you tell Michelangelo, “Hey, hurry up with that ceiling, the popes have changed twice since you started?” No? Then do not hasten your stew. It will be tough, and you will be regretful.

So now you can dump in all the other ingredients, right? No. A piece of beef has more than one side. You must brown all the biggest sides (that’s at least two, if not four or five– the sides and the big end) to get the biggest flavor. If you want wimpy, sissy stew, unfit to serve to any cattleman come a’callin, then fine, dump your ingredients in. Not I. I browned three other sides…

Mmm. Beef fat. I may or may not have licked that bit right there. I’m not telling. OK, now it’s finally time to put in the ingredients– first, the carrots, 3 bay leaves, a good sized bunch of parsley, and 3 rosemary sprigs.

Then all the liquids, until your braise looks like this.

Put the heat on medium low, cover it, and let it cook on a medium simmer for three hours. If you take it out before then, it will be cooked, but it will be tough. Let it cook the whole three hours, and it should be fall-apart tender at the end.

I found the flavor needed something at the end, so after fishing out the herbs and tossing them, adding some more salt and pepper, and checking to make sure the stew liquid didn’t need degreasing, I added two tbsps. of whole grain Maille mustard. Delicious.

Delicious served over white rice and with the other 2 cups of wine. I made it fancy and poured the wine into a glass, rather than using the oft-favored bendy straw method of consumption.

As with most stews, braises, daubes, whatever you want to call them, this was even better the next day. If I were serving it to company, I would leave the whole roast, unsliced, out to cool, then put it in the fridge overnight. I would then reheat it, gently, and carve right before serving.