There are recipes of great national historical importance, and then there are recipes of great personal historical importance. This recipe falls under the latter description. Both are equally as important to American foodways, in my opinion, because where would we be without the simple meals we grew up with?

My mother handled the vast majority of the family cooking when I was a child, and when she was unable to for work or other responsibilities, our food was – like so many – catered by Pizza Hut, Stouffer’s or some other convenience food.

Dad and I, riding the rides

My father did many things for us growing up, but cooking was something he has come to enjoy more later in life – bread baking, the occasional chili or soup, etc. But occasionally, back then, my father would step into the kitchen and give it a go. For example, when my mother and sister would leave for Girl Scout camp, my father and I – the men left behind – would put together a cake mix as a treat for when they got home and my father would leave the frosting to me. Another dish, which was mainly for him as nobody else would eat it, was Spanish Onions, stories of which have become apocryphal in my family for at least three generations.

Egg in a Frame, though, was a particular treat that he would make for my sister and I. I can’t give you the history of it beyond my family, except to say that it is a kin to the British dish of boiled eggs and “soldiers,” which are strips of toast you use to dunk them in.

From coast to coast, I know of many families who have this recipe in their repertoire, as it’s particularly fun to make for children. Besides Egg in a Frame, you may hear it called Egg in a Basket, Egg in a Hole, or even Toad in a Hole, which in my book is another British recipe of sausages baked into a Yorkshire batter pudding.

Whatever you call it, it is delicious and simple. And so on this Father’s Day, I give you this recipe for Egg in a Frame with a particular thanks to my father who has always been an avid reader of my writings, young and old.

1 egg
1 slice of thick cut bread
1 tablespoon of butter
salt and pepper to taste

Using a round cookie cutter or the mouth of a glass, cut a hole in the center of a slice of bread. Butter one side of the ‘frame’ and the cut out disc. Heat a frying pan over medium-low heat and add the frame and disc, butter side down. In the pan, carefully butter the other side of the bread.

Crack an egg into the center of the frame. Season to taste, and cover the pan with a lid. After about a minute, remove the lid. The egg should be mostly set on top, allowing you to flip both the egg in the frame and the disc. Cook uncovered for about another minute to toast the other side of the bread, and serve.

Having explored the history behind this incredible cookbook, I thought it would be good to give one of the stir-fry recipes a go. This recipe for Chicken with Mushrooms exemplifies the stir-frying – or bào, as it is known in Chinese – technique.

Here, the wok or skillet is heated to a high temperature. Cook oil or lard is added, followed by seasonings, vegetables and proteins. The ingredients themselves are often simple – one or two vegetables and a protein, if any. As long as quality ingredients are used throughout, what makes a stir-fry particularly unique is often the sauce. Since the high heat cooks everything quickly, the meal retains much of the flavor and freshness of the ingredients.

I love the note in the recipe after fresh ginger “if you can get it.” Now most major grocery stores sell fresh ginger year round, but this was certainly not the case in 1945. Ground ginger was often available for baking, though even that could be a challenge to find in the post-war period. Candied ginger was another possibility, but it doesn’t have the same effect in a recipe that fresh ginger has. Chao recommends the cook omit the ginger in a recipe where chunks of it are meant to be consumed, rather than try to find a substitute.

Technically, this dish is called “Mushrooms Stir Chicken Slices.” As I mentioned in the accompanying article to this recipe – Buwei Yang Chao and the Invention of ‘Stir-Frying’ – Buwei wrote “I cooked my dishes in Chinese, my daughter Rulan put my Chinese into English, and my husband, finding the English dull, put much of it back into Chinese again. Thus, when I call a dish ‘Mushrooms Stir Shrimps,’ Rulan says that that’s not English and that it ought to be ‘Shrimps Fried with Mushrooms.’ But Yuen Ren argues that if Mr. Smith can Go to Town in a movie, why can’t Mushrooms Stir Shrimps in a dish?”

TIPS AND TRICKS

If you don’t have a wok, a heavy bottomed skillet will work just fine. Indeed, the cookbook assumes most readers would not have a wok in 1945, and suggests a skillet as an alternative.

Wash, chop and prepare everything ahead. Once the wok or skillet begins heating up, there isn’t really time to be dicing and slicing. For this particular recipe, you can put the mushrooms in one bowl, the chicken in another, and the sauce in the third.

Always mix cornstarch with liquids before adding it to anything. Mixing it with foods inhibits the cornstarch from completely dissolving and it will often clump. In this case, mix it with the water and sherry before adding the ginger, onion, and chicken.

The cookbook prefers the use of lard. In the absence of lard, cooking oil can be used such as canola or vegetable. Other oils like olive or peanut have a tendency to burn before getting to the heat recommended for stir-frying.

Remember, it is stir-frying. Keep the food moving once it hits the wok. You should only ever stop momentarily to add or remove items from the skillet. Otherwise, keep stirring.

The chicken won’t take long to cook, and the mushrooms will need even less time. Once everything is done cooking, pour the food into a serving dish and rinse the wok immediately – as the remaining heat can cause the oils to continue cooking and damage the surface of the pan.

THE TAKE-AWAY

I thoroughly enjoyed this recipe. Not only was it quick to assemble and cook, but the taste was incredible. The fresh ginger balanced out the sherry/soy sauce perfectly. I was a bit concerned at first that the amount of sauce didn’t seem to be enough to adequately cover the chicken and mushrooms, but it all came out flawlessly.

Before stumbling on this cookbook, I once thought I was occasionally stir-frying at home. I’d cut up a bunch of my favorite vegetables, and cube some chicken or tofu, and mix it all about with a splash of soy sauce. It wasn’t bad, but I was never really tapping into the full potential of the dishes. Fewer ingredients and an incredible sauce. That’s the key. And really, it couldn’t be simpler.

I’m as guilty as the next person for getting Chinese food delivered in a pinch. The greasy unnatural colors hint at a kind of Chinese food that is distinctly American. But Chao’s How to Cook and Eat in Chinese demonstrates what Chinese American food was before it was truly Americanized in a bath of sweet and sour sauce and cream cheese wontons. It was, and can be, fresh and delicious.

“Mushrooms Stir Chicken Slices” from How to Cook and Eat in Chinese by Buwei Yang Chao, New York: John Day and Co., 1945.

White meat of one large chicken or two small chickens – about 1lb.
1/2 lb. fresh mushrooms
1 tbsp. cornstarch
2 tbsp. water
1 tbsp. sherry
1 tsp. salt
2 tbsp. soy sauce
3 tbsp. lard or oil
1 scallion or 1 small sweet onion
2 or 3 slices fresh ginger (if you can get it)

Cut chicken white meat into thin slices. (Be sure to keep it in the icebox if not used immediately.) Mix with the cornstarch, water, sherry, salt, chopped onion, and ginger.

Wash the mushrooms and cut them vertically into slices. Heat 1 tbsp. lard in a skillet, put the mushrooms in, add the soy sauce, and stir-fry for 2 min. Then take out.

Heat the other 2 tbsp. lard over big fire and put the chicken in. Stir constantly for 2 min., then add in the mushrooms again. Cook together for 1/2 min.

Winter has definitely arrived where I live in Minnesota. When I leave work today, the temperature is expected to be -6 with a windchill of -32.

When it is possible, it is best to stay home on days like this – bundled up against the elements with a warm soup or stew.

But the oft-forgotten chowder is also a great winter dish to warm the kitchen and the body. Very popular particularly in New England and the Atlantic coastal states, we tend to think of chowders as a hearty, cream or tomato based soup with chunks of potatoes, meat and vegetables. The main distinguishing factor between a stew and a chowder being gravy versus broth, respectively.

At least, that’s what I thought.

When I decided to dig up an old recipe for chowder, I had very little knowledge of the form. What I discovered is that traditionally, chowders are more like soupy casseroles, and that ‘chowdering’ referred to the process of layering ingredients. One of the first recipes for a chowder, for example, was published as a poem in the Boston Evening Post on September 23, 1751:

First lay some Onions to keep the Pork from burning
Because in Chouder there can be not turning;
Then lay some Pork in slices very thing,
Thus you in Chouder always must begin.
Next lay some Fish cut crossways very nice
Then season well with Pepper, Salt, and Spice;
Parsley, Sweet-Marjoram, Savory, and Thyme,
Then Biscuit next which must be soak’d some Time.
Thus your Foundation laid, you will be able
To raise a Chouder, high as Tower of Babel;
For by repeating o’er the Same again,
You may make a Chouder for a thousand men.
Last a Bottle of Claret, with Water eno; to smother ’em,
You’ll have a Mess which some call Omnium gather ’em.

This kind of layered chowder is rarely seen today, which is a shame. It is immensely satisfying, full of flavor, and relatively inexpensive. Much like the creole jambalaya, fish chowder is one of those one-pot wonders that have the flexibility of being made with whatever fish or shellfish you have on hand.

Chowders are thought to originate in the coastal fishing communities of France, who used to cook the day’s catch in a “chauderie,” a large cast-iron cauldron. Clam and oyster chowders were likely consumed in the 16th and 17th centuries in Colonial America, though the clam chowder we know today is more of a late 19th century innovation.

I ultimately chose Lydia Maria Francis Child’s recipe from her very popular 1830 cookbook The Frugal Housewife: Dedicated to Those Who Are Not Ashamed of Economy for several reasons. The Mark Bittman of her generation, her recipes are flexible in terms of ingredients and variations, and they teach skills as much as they teach a specific recipe. The cookbook went through over 35 printings, before it was eventually allowed to go out of print in 1850 due to Child’s abolitionist work and the growing number of more contemporary cookbooks being published at the time.

One of the many intriguing aspects of Child’s recipe is the absence of milk, and yet, when cooked, the broth is creamy. How is this possible? My guests were certainly unnerved by the idea. The flour from the crackers and the starch in the potatoes break down and thicken the broth. I was skeptical at first, but it works. For those with lactose issues, this could be a real gem.

Any fish will work for this recipe, but Child notes that Cod is particularly effective. Four or five pounds is an awful lot too. Depending on the amount you’re wanting to make, 2 pounds is probably plenty. You’ll find that this method of cooking produces the most moist, flaky fish.

Try to use an interesting bacon for the base, or alternatively, some salt pork and a little oil could be used. This first step helps to grease the pan and prevent burning later, in addition to adding flavor. I really wouldn’t recommend adding salt at any point in the assembling of the chowder – or if so, leave it to just a bit during one layer. Go to town with the pepper and any other seasonings, and know you can always add salt after. I also had a bit of fresh thyme in my fridge and added that to the seasonings.

Child ends the recipe noting that “a sliced lemon adds to flavor. A cup of tomato catsup is very excellent. Some people put in a cup of beer.” Guests and friends of mine have also turned their noses at such suggestions. But think about it – one normally squeezes some fresh lemon over fish. Adding a tomato sauce will be not unlike Manhattan Clam Chowder. And beer and fish go as well together as pork and apples. Be adventurous! And don’t forget there is a great old recipe for a tomato catsup here at the American Table.

Below, I give Child’s recipe and my adaptation of it.

“Fish Chowder.” Lydia Maria Child, The Frugal Housewife: Dedicated to Those Who Are Not Ashamed of Economy. Boston: Carter and Hendee, 1830. p. 61.

My Adaptation:

2 pounds of non-oily fish, sliced
1/2 pound of good bacon, sliced into lardons
2 medium onions, sliced
4 medium potatoes, sliced
saltine crackers
salt and pepper
1 cup of flour
1 sliced lemon, 1 cup of beer, or 1 cup of tomato catsup (optional)

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Fry bacon in a large, heavy-bottomed cast-iron or enameled cast-iron pot. When bacon is crisp, remove bacon leaving grease in the pot, and remove the pot from heat. Arrange slices of fish on top of bacon layer. Add a layer each of crackers, onions, and potatoes, and then season with a small amount of salt, and a generous amount of black pepper. Repeat layers – bacon, fish, crackers, onions, potatoes, seasoning – until ingredients are used. In a separate bowl, combine 1 cup of flour and enough water that will cover the ingredients in the pot. Pour flour/water mixture into pot. Cover the pot with a heavy lid and place in oven. To prevent moisture from escaping do not remove lid during cooking. If the pot was filled near the top, place a pan underneath to catch any drippings. The chowder is done when the potatoes are tender, around 2 hours.

To cook with lemon, slice thin and remove seeds. Add the lemon in the layer between the fish and the bacon. The lemon flesh will cook through, and those eating the chowder will likely want to avoid eating the remaining rind – which should be easily visible on serving.

To cook with beer or tomato catsup, combine either with the flour/water mixture and pour over ingredients.

]]> http://www.americantable.org/2013/01/recipe-fish-chowder-1830/feed/ 4 1058 http://www.americantable.org/2012/11/recipe-beef-tongue-sandwiches-1893/ http://www.americantable.org/2012/11/recipe-beef-tongue-sandwiches-1893/#comments Fri, 02 Nov 2012 16:17:34 +0000 http://www.americantable.org/?p=819

This recipe is the third and final installment of a series on the American Butcher. Click here for Part 1 and Part 2.

When I started telling people I had bought a beef tongue from Clancey’s Meats here in Minneapolis, the range of reactions I received was mixed. A couple people had tried tongue and liked it, but only in the context of Mexican-style restaurants that include it as a meat option for tacos. Several people turned up their nose in disgust at the mere thought of eating tongue. “Ugh… imagine those little bumps. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

However, the vast majority of the folks I spoke with had tried it and hated it, and then went on to describe horror stories from childhood – a gray boiled tongue forever linked to memories of dinners with a grandmother, a dare instigated by one’s crazy uncle, or in one case, a pan-seared tongue roast that was toothily impregnable.

I can’t say I can remember ever eating tongue – certainly never growing up (my mother would never have let it in the house). But I’m fairly sure I have eaten it once in the last few years, though clearly it wasn’t a terribly memorable experience. However, in keeping with this week’s focus on whole animal butchering and the state of the butcher in America, I wanted to explore this long lost staple of the family menu.

Tongue was a cheap cut of beef, which, like many cheap cuts, required some help and thoughtful preparation to make it palatable (no pun intended). In the category of offal – tongue was almost as popular as kidneys, though certainly more popular than brains, heart, eyes, palate, etc. More often than not, it would be prepared in the same way as brisket – boiled with vegetables as in a New England Boiled Dinner, corned, or boiled then roasted. Today, it’s a bit difficult to find, as it is usually scrapped by meat processors. Another reason to worship your local whole animal butcher if you’re lucky enough to have one.

I must imagine that the reason the majority of folks who have tried tongue have disliked it is either because it was prepared poorly (which is easy to do), or that they couldn’t get past the idea of eating a tongue. When done correctly, the flavor is distinctly beefy as much as any roast or steak. The texture – which doesn’t include the little bumps so many fear, because it is meant to be skinned before it is served – is soft and buttery. This recipe in particular is reminiscent in flavor to corned beef, but lacks the coarse fibers one inevitably encounters with brisket.

With all the ways tongue can be made wrong, there are a few ground rules for preparing it well.

1) Tongue can come fresh (most popularly found), pickled/corned, or smoked. Regardless of the tongue, though, good recipes encourage you to soak the tongue in fresh cold water for at least an hour or overnight before cooking it. This helps “freshen” it – it regains some of it’s original color and brings it back to something of it’s original ‘pertness,’ if you will.

2) Tongue really does benefit from a long, slow cooking. Consider the poor man whose mother used to serve pan-seared tongue roast. The muscle would have seized and been nearly impossible to chew. Older recipes for tongue would sometimes call for the dutch oven to be put to the fire early in the morning for an evening meal. Today, a slow cooker will do quite nicely, or as in the case of the recipe below, a pressure cooker.

3) When you buy tongue, it will often be the full tongue that you see when the animal opens it’s mouth, plus the muscle/tendon that reaches to the back of the palate. If this is the case, you’ll want to trim off the thick, hard part at the base. Don’t trim too much, as there is quite a lot of fine meat at this base. Mine came a bit more than pre-trimmed, with only the visible part of the tongue being sold. The average beef tongue will be about 3-4 pounds. Lamb, pork, and venison tongues are considerably smaller.

4) After it is boiled – whether it will be served immediately or roasted, it needs to be skinned while it is hot. If you don’t, it will shrink in the skin and twist in a really grotesque manner. Removing the skin is quite simple – it peels right off with a sharp knife.

I had many recipes to choose from when I sat down to prepare this. I ultimately settled on two – one for the preparation of the tongue, the other for the sandwiches I would make from it. The former comes from M.F.K. Fisher’s With Bold Knife and Fork. As I’ve mentioned, James Beard’s portrait hangs above my stove to keep watch over my pots. Only slightly behind Beard, Fisher is one of my favorite American food writers. This particular recipe is referred to in her essay “The Trouble with Tripe,” on the delights and squeamish-ness surrounding offal. It originally appeared in the November 2, 1968 issue of The New Yorker. I admit to choosing Fisher’s recipe not only because I admire her, but also because I trusted it being more suited to contemporary tastes. Made alone, it can be served as is, or thrown into the broiler to crisp the outside. However, I decided to take it a step further.

The second recipe is a classic recipe for preparing beef tongue sandwiches, which used to be a savory staple on any tea sandwich platter. It comes from François Tanty’s 1893 manual La Cuisine Française: French Cooking for Every Home, Adapted to American Requirements. Tanty studied under the famous 19th century chef Careme. He was head chef to Napoleon III and the Czar of Russia. He came to the United States in 1890, and collaborated on this manual with his son, who was responsible for the translation. Riding one of the many waves when French cuisine was popular in America, the book sold out several prints, and was eventually expanded to twice it’s length with the addition of pastries and breads. There is nothing particularly magic about this recipe – the mustard butter spread was commonly found in any cook’s repertoire, so common it was rarely written down. It is creamy, with a bit of kick from the mustard and cayenne that almost resembles a nice horseradish. Of course, it works best with soft butter, so do plan ahead if you keep your butter in the fridge.

Below is my friend Steve who assisted me with cooking and photo-taking… he couldn’t resist. Halloween was just around the corner, after all.

ELSA’S SUMMER TONGUE
Adapted from M.F.K. Fisher, “The Trouble with Tripe” (1968)

1 fresh beef tongue
1 cup white wine vinegar
1/2 cup broth
1/2 cup brown sugar
5 bay leaves
5 peppercorns, slightly crushed

In a bowl, leave tongue covered in cold water for at least an hour. Drain, and place on the rack inside a pressure cooker, curling it if necessary. Add liquids, sugar and spices. The liquid should half-way cover the tongue. Depending on the size of your pressure cooker, you may need to add more broth, vinegar or simply add water to make the difference. Bring to high pressure (15 psi) and then reduce heat to maintain pressure. Cook for 1 and 1/2 hours, beginning timing when cooker reaches 15 psi. Skin tongue while hot, and trim the thick end if needed. Put back into juice until cool.

TONGUE SANDWICHES
François Tanty, La Cuisine Française (1893)

For 10 sandwiches:
Tongue………. 1 lb
Butter………… 5 tbsp
Mustard……… 1 tbsp [Use ground mustard. Coleman’s if you can.]
Salt & Pepper…… To taste
Cayenne pepper.. A little
Bread……………… 20 slices [A nice white loaf, sliced thinly, preferably.]

PREPARATION: Make a dressing by mixing 5 tablespoonfuls butter with 1 tablespoonful mustard, salt and pepper to suit the taste, a little cayenne pepper. Trim the crust from 20 slices bread, butter them with the dressing, and lay between every two some slices of cold tongue. [The tongue should be sliced as thinly as possible.]

Every region and every culture has some variation on the one-pot stew. Born of necessity, what goes into the pot is whatever is readily available on-hand. A few scraps of meat and some vegetables, simmered slowly for several hours and you can feed a crowd relatively inexpensively and make foods stretch.

New England has the chowder. The midwest and upper south have burgoo. The west has a multitude of variations on stews.

The deep south has jambalaya, with it’s unmistakable flavor of Creole culture.

Don’t be fooled by that stuff you get in a box at the grocery store, or that dish on a restaurant menu that costs an absurd $20+ a bowl. Jambalaya is classic Creole family food, and it couldn’t be easier to make.

Today when you come across jambalaya, it’s usually a spicy mixture of rice, celery, peppers, onions, tomatoes, chicken, shrimp or crayfish, and Andouille sausage.

Traditionally though, jambalaya was made with whatever you had available, with the common elements of rice, tomatoes, meat, and seafood.

This recipe comes from the 1885 La Cuisine Creole: A Collection of Culinary Recipes, from Leading Chefs and Noted Creole Housewives, Who Have Made New Orleans Famous for its Cuisine, by Lafcadio Hearn. Hearn came to Louisiana via Greece, Ireland and Cincinnati, Ohio and would become a noted scholar of Japanese and Creole culture. After moving to New Orleans in 1877 as a reporter for the Cincinnati Commercial, he wrote on ghost stories, folklore, languages, Louisiana voodoo, French Opera, and of course, Creole cuisine.

The cookbook is notable because of Hearn’s gathering of source material. This is not the typical recipe book of the time – produced by famous restaurant chefs or the servant cooks of the wealthy classes. Hearn’s offering surveys a variety of methods and styles at a time when Creole culture was continuing to adapt to the ever-changing landscape of modern New Orleans.

This jambalaya is not as spicy as what you’d likely find in a restaurant today, and the absence of seafood and sausage, though it could certainly be added, suggests this recipe comes from a lower or middle-class household where it was essential to make do with what you had. Rice in jambalaya is not only a local crop – the wetlands of Louisiana providing the perfect growing conditions – it helps to inexpensively extend the meal. This jambalaya is immensely satisfying, particularly when served with a sweet corn bread.

Hearn notes that the recipe is likely Indian in origin. It is very likely the local Atakapa tribes had a one-pot dish similar to this. However, the Spanish, French and African influences can’t be mistaken – think of jambalaya as a relative of paella.

My notes are in brackets. I used a ham shank instead of ham slices, and cooked it along with the chicken.

Cut up and stew a fowl [a smaller bird is preferable – 2 or 3 pounds. Water added to the pot to stew the chicken should just cover the meat. After stewing the chicken, remove from pot and pull meat off the bones, returning the meat to the broth. There should be at least two cups of broth in the pot before proceeding. If not, add pre-made stock or water.];… add a cup of raw rice, a slice of ham minced, and pepper and salt; let all cook together until the rice swells and absorbs all the gravy of the stewed chicken, but it must not be allowed to get hard or dry. [Stir regularly to prevent rice from burning at the bottom of the pot.] Serve in a deep dish. Southern children are very fond of this; it is said to be an Indian dish, and very wholesome as well as palatable; it can be made of many things.

Today, Julia Child would have been 100 years old.

Few recipes exemplify the Child’s talents as a teacher, chef, and lover of French cuisine than this recipe for Bouef Bourguignon – the classic French peasant beef stew in red wine with bacon, onions and mushrooms. There are good reasons Child debuted her television program The French Chef with this recipe.

Instructionally, it offers the basic techniques that can also be used for other dishes like Coq au Vin (use chicken instead of beef) and Boeuf Catalan (rice is added to the sauce while cooking).

The sauce created in this recipe is magic, and demonstrates the value of cooking with wine if done correctly. Boeuf Bourguignon also captures what Julia Child was attempting to do with her television program and first cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking (1961) – at a time when frozen foods had become all the rage and French cuisine was the domain of the wealthy who had servants and ate out at expensive restaurants, this rich stew can easily be made at home with a bit of patience and technique.

The first time I cooked this, it took me quite a bit of time. There’s a lot of chopping involved, and I found myself frequently having to refer back to the recipe not wanting to muck it up. Now a regular dish in my repertoire, it takes very little time at all, and it’s a guaranteed crowd-pleaser. Don’t be put off by the length of the recipe. Remember, she’s teaching skills here, and this isn’t about fast food.

Before launching into the recipe, a few tips that set Child’s Bouef Bourguignon apart from all the other recipes out there for this dish.

• To brown food (meat, mushrooms, onions, etc.), dry the ingredients with a towel and don’t overcrowd the pan. Child was one of the first to offer this incredibly important bit of kitchen wisdom.
• Finding slab or chunk bacon can be a challenge. I actually went to several good markets and asked at the meat counter if they had slab bacon. They inevitably looked at me quizzically. This is what happens when most of the meat comes to us prepackaged… but I digress. That’s the subject for another article. I finally found some at a Polish meat market just north of town and buy large quantities to freeze for various recipes. The slab make better lardons and matches the heartiness of the dish. If you can’t find it, use any interesting unflavored thick-cut bacon (no maple-honeys or black pepper crusted bacons). If you’re keeping kosher, it’s fine to omit the bacon, and indeed, Child left it out of the recipe when she presented it on The French Chef. However, if you’re simply looking to make it healthier, then you might as well find something else. I understand quinoa is nice this season.
• Use an inexpensive young red wine for this. A good house/table red will do nicely.
• Child’s recipe calls for one chopped carrot. I find I like having more carrots than this to add variety to the stew.
• The recipes for the braised onions and mushrooms can stand alone as very tasty side dishes.
• This is the epitome of French comfort food. Make it a day ahead. This is one of those dishes that tastes even better reheated.
• Bon appetit!

6 oz chunk of bacon
3 lbs. stewing beef
1 sliced carrot
1 sliced onion
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
2 tbsp flour
3 cups of a young, full-bodied red wine (beaujolais or Chianti for example)
2-3 cups beef stock or canned beef bouillon
1 tbsp tomato paste
2 cloves mashed garlic
1/2 tsp thyme
1 bay leaf, crushed
parsley for garnish

For braised onions:
18-24 peeled white pearl onions
1 1/2 tbsp butter
1 1/2 tbsp oil
1/2 cup of brown stock
salt and pepper to taste
a medium herb bouquet (4 parsley sprigs, 1/2 bay leaf, 1/4 tsp thyme tied in a cheesecloth)

For braised mushrooms:
2 tbsp butter
1 tbsp oil
1/2 lb fresh mushrooms, washed, dried, left whole if small, sliced or quartered if large

Remove rind, and cut bacon into lardons (sticks, 1/4 inch thick and 1 1/2 inches long). Simmer rind and bacon for 10 minutes in 1 1/2 quarts of water. Drain and dry.

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Saute the bacon in oil over moderate heat for 2 to 3 minutes to brown lightly. Remove to a side dish with a slotted spoon. Set casserole aside. Reheat until fat is almost smoking before you saute the beef.

Dry the beef in paper towels; it will not brown if it is damp. Saute it, a few pieces at a time, in the hot oil and bacon fat until nicely browned on all sides. Add it to the bacon.

In the same fat, brown the sliced vegetables. Pour out remaining fat.

Return the beef and bacon to the casserole and toss with the salt and peper. Then sprinkle on the flour and toss again to coat the beef lightly with the flour. Set casserole uncovered in middle position of heated oven for 4 minutes. Toss the meat and return to oven for 4 minutes more. (This browns the flour and covers the meat with a light crust.) Remove casserole and turn oven down to 325 degrees.

Stir in the wine, and enough stock or bouillon so that the meat is barely covered. Add the tomato paste, garlic, herbs and bacon rind. Bring to simmer on top of the stove. Then cover the casserole and set in lower third of preheated oven. Regulate heat so liquid simmers very slowly for 2 1/2 to 3 hours. The meat is done when a fork pierces it easily.

While the beef is cooking, prepare the onions and mushrooms. Set them aside until needed.

BRAISED ONIONS:

When the butter and oil are bubbling in the skillet, add the onions and saute over moderate heat for about 10 minutes, rolling the onions about so they will brown as evenly as possible. Be careful not to break their skins. You cannot expect to brown them uniformly.

Pour in the liquid, season to taste, and add the herb bouquet. Cover and simmer slowly for 40-50 minutes until the onions are perfectly tender but retain their shape, and the liquid has evaporated. Remove herb bouquet and set aside.

BRAISED MUSHROOMS:

Place the skillet over high heat with the butter and oil. As soon as you see that the butter foam has begun to subside, indicating it is hot enough, add the mushrooms. Toss and shake the pan for 4 to 5 minutes. During their saute the mushrooms will at first absorb the fat. In 2 to 3 minutes the fat will reappear on their surface, and the mushrooms will begin to brown. As soon as they have browned lightly, remove from heat and set aside.

When the meat is tender pour the contents of the casserole into a sieve set over a saucepan. Wash out the casserole and return the beef and bacon to it. Distribute the cooked onions and mushrooms over the meat.

Skim fat off the sauce. Simmer sauce for a minute or two, skimming off additional fat as it rises. You should have about 2 1/2 cups of sauce thick enough to coat a spoon lightly. If too thin, boil it down rapidly. If too thick, mix in a few tablespoons of stock or canned bouillon. Taste carefully for seasoning. Pour the sauce over the meat and vegetables.
(*) Recipe may be completed in advance to this point.

Cover the casserole and simmer for 2 to 3 minutes, basting the meat and vegetables with the sauce several times. Serve in its casserole, or arrange the stew on a platter surrounded with potatoes, noodles, or rice, and decorated with parsley.

Sage. It’s not just for Thanksgiving stuffing. The following is a classic pork roast recipe adapted from one in James Beard’s American Cookery (1972). At the time the “Dean of American Cooking” published his book, pork – particularly a roast – was much more popular in the United States than today.  By the late 1970s, it largely fell out of popularity as fad diets became vogue. Yes, some pork cuts are high in fat and cholesterol. But it’s not difficult to find a lean pork roast, which is actually much healthier than other more popular beef roasts.

Also, can I just say how much I love James Beard and get that out of the way now? His cookbooks and writing have been a huge source of inspiration – and no joke, I have a portrait-size photo of him over my stove so he can help me keep an eye on my pots and pans!

Experiment with the rub ingredients to find a taste that meets with your palate, but I encourage you to try it at least once with sage as the dominant herb. Sage brings out an earthy taste and aroma in the pork, and the peppercorns and mustard give both bite and color. Accompanied with apples (apples and pork go together like Abbot and Costello), this recipe is the perfect autumn dish.

2 ½ pound pork roast
3 tbsp. ground sage
1 ½ tbsp. ground mustard
1 ½ tbsp. peppercorns
salt, to taste
3 tart apples peeled, cored and quartered
1 tbsp. granulated sugar
¼ tsp nutmeg or ½ tsp cinnamon
½ cup apple cider or sweet white wine

First, select a good pork roast that is trimmed of excess fat. I found a nice sirloin pork roast that came from the amazing Beeler’s Farm in nearby Le Mars, Iowa. Place the pork roast on a large plate or platter, and if just pulled from the refrigerator, it is ideal to allow the roast to come to room temperature. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.

In a spice grinder or mortar, grind peppercorns, salt, sage and mustard until fine and well-mixed. Rub the mixture all around the roast. Put the pork on a rack in a dutch oven or roasting pan, and roast for about 25 minutes per pound.

Meanwhile, in a mixing bowl, combine sugar and nutmeg or cinnamon (nutmeg is a bit more traditional and will have you thinking more savory than apple pie). Add apples and toss to coat.

After the pork has finished its first roasting, remove from the oven and pour off any excess fat (particularly important if you’re using a fattier roast like Boston butt). Surround the roast with apples, pour cider or wine over, and return to the oven until the meat is done – about 45 minutes for a two pound roast, or until the internal temperature reaches about 145 degrees. Remove from oven and let rest. The roast will continue cooking to an internal temperature of around 155 degrees and the juices will stay in. The rub will be crusted and the center of the roast, when sliced, will be just slightly pinkish. Accompany with apples, and perhaps a good mustard. Braised onions, steamed broccoli and roasted potatoes also go well with this dish. Serve with a sweet white wine (a Riesling or a honey mead), or with apple cider.

Try it yourself and post your thoughts and suggestions!