If there is anything that would ever motivate me to stop cooking meat, it would be laziness. Seems like every time John and I set aside a Sunday evening to make a big batch of something beefy (or porky or chickeny) I get annoyed by raw meat juices dripping everywhere, fat and connective tissue that need to be trimmed (still rather unskillfully), and even the smell of raw meat. What keeps me coming back to it, unsurprisingly, is how good stuff can taste when done right. Also, wine. As long as my other half persists in learning about wine, I will continue seeking out new dishes to go with his picks (and vice versa… I think we’ve found an important positive feedback loop in this relationship).
Freezing spring temperatures (?!) and a new Dutch oven (“new” as in unused since its arrival in June) were reasons enough to finally get around to making braised short ribs. It also helps that I have a better understanding of meat cookery, thanks to a hands-on food science class I’m taking (the most fun dietitians are required to have in their coursework). Well-exercised muscles are full of collagen, which makes them chewy and tough. But after a nice slow braise, the meat becomes tender and stays flavorful. The collagen is converted to gelatin (by hydrolysis, for you fans of chemistry) which disperses throughout the braising liquid. The Dutch oven (an enamel-covered cast iron pot with a lid) goes into the conventional oven, where constant, even heating is maintained more easily than on the stove.
I bookmarked a simple, straightforward recipe: short ribs are browned then simmered with mirepoix, red wine, and beef broth, then you drool and feel your stomach growl (scream?) while delightful aromas drift around your apartment. A few hours later, the tender meat and hearty sauce are ready to drape themselves over something starchy and absorbent, like creamy polenta or fluffy mashed potatoes. Something bright and crunchy (like the simple salad with vinaigrette in the recipe) is a nice contrast to the soft, mushy warmth of the other stuff. If time allows (or while you’re eating and thinking about leftovers), you can remove the ribs from the pot and reduce the sauce a bit.
Speaking of leftovers, shredded short ribs with their sauce + canned tomatoes + garlic + herbs = delicious ragu that can be mixed with pasta or spooned over more polenta.
Let me start by saying that this Sunday supper took forever to prepare and should not be attempted unless you have time and patience (and a lot of wine). The most recent issue of Cook’s Illustrated points out that meatballs are a lot of work, so you should make a whole bunch all at once. Their recipe swaps out veal for gelatin and prosciutto, and milk-soaked bread for panko (flaky Japanese breadcrumbs) and buttermilk. We roughly halved the recipe. Instead of baking the meatballs, I insisted on frying them in batches in a pan and making a simple tomato sauce in that same pan. During a moment of good judgment, I ditched the original plan to make the pasta ourselves and pulled out a package of some fancy dry spaghetti we’d been gifted awhile back. We went back and forth between the living room (homework and televised sports) and the kitchen (frying meat, simmering sauce) to divvy up all the steps. Several dropped meatballs, sauce splatters, and glasses of wine later, we sat down to (wolfed down) a satisfying meal that tucked us quietly into bed. Even better, we have two batches’ worth of leftovers that will probably come out of the freezer during study-freak finals season or in November if we completely mess up Thanksgiving dinner.
I was asked yesterday what the last meal I made was (not counting my Saturday morning hangover ramen and the jumbled leftovers I had for lunch). Incredibly, I blanked out and completely forgot about these deliciously messy Dominican chimichurri burgers (which have nothing to do with “real” chimichurri, a South American condiment made of herbs, garlic, onions, and oil). I just happened to have the appropriate vegetable odds and ends for them: part of a bell pepper, some assorted leftover onions, cilantro on the brink of spoilage, half a head of cabbage, and a bunch of baby carrots (the kind that are pulled out of the ground early, not the kind that are whittled down from ugly carrots into perfect little dipping nubs). I also added a slice of cheddar because cheese is mandatory on my burgers.
As for the beef, it was of the organic, grass-fed, dry-aged variety, from Lewis Waite Farm. Dry aging is the process of drying cuts of beef in cold temperatures to let moisture evaporate as the connective tissue in the muscle breaks down with the help of proteolytic enzymes (proteins that break down other proteins, such as those found in muscle fibers). A layer of not-scary mold forms on the outer layer of the meat, which is later trimmed off. The alternative to dry-aging is (surprise!) wet-aging, which is the process of breaking down the meat’s connective tissue in a sealed bag, keeping moisture locked in. While dry-aging can take several weeks, wet-aging takes only a few days, and is the more common method found in the U.S. Some say that the more expensive dry-aging process creates beef with a more concentrated beef flavor. Some specialty butcher shops and grocers (Fairway and Whole Foods come to mind) dry age their beef on-premises, in glass cases for you to see.
Organic and grass-fed have become pretentious buzzwords, but that doesn’t deter me from spending an extra few dollars every few months to purchase beef that has been raised without hormones or antibiotics, and fed what their bodies were designed to digest. I think it’s worth it.
I only have a few tips for making burgers:
- Season the meat adequately.
- Don’t over-handle the meat patties. It’s just not necessary. I like to use a fork to mix, and my (immaculately scrubbed) hands to lightly form the patties.
- Make a little dent in the middle of the patty (always reminds me of red blood cells), so that you end up with flat burgers, not bulging centers as the edges shrink.
- Make sure the grill or pan is nice and hot, so you get a good, flavorful sear.
(Please share your tips if you have some!)
And finally, if you want to read about “real” Dominican food in New York, this Junot Diaz piece is one of my favorite pieces of food writing ever.
