trans Fatty Blog

Brown Stock

When the talk turns to pot roast, it's time to make stock. You can braise with red or white wine, canned tomatoes, mushroom or vegetable broth, juice, or even water. But for the richest, heartiest soups, stews, and sauces, there's no substitute for brown stock.

Stocks can be classified as white or brown depending on whether the meat and bones are roasted beforehand. White stock is valuable in cooking as a relatively neutral flavor base, and because it tastes most like the thing it was to begin with: chicken, fish, or (less commonly) beef or veal. Brown stock, put simply, is all about browning.

Atkins Détente

I'm gradually coming to an uneasy détente with Dr. Atkins and his flock. The answer isn't fewer carbs, it's different carbs, replacing refined white flour with whole wheat and brown rice, not to mention quinoa, amaranth, spelt, bulgar, millet, barley, and a host of other grains. This is consistent with what nutritionists have been saying for decades, just with a different emphasis (count carbs rather than fat). By giving you a free pass on the bacon, maybe the Good Dr. has finally helped make those whole grains a bit easier to swallow, but I still think the single most important number is total calories. Eat too many of those, and sooner or later you will gain weight.

Personally I'll continue to take my bacon in moderation -- a little bit goes a long way to flavor a dish -- but I am going to try and introduce more whole grains to the mix.

Braise Me Up

The weather has remained warm, but it's beginning to turn. Days are shorter, the sunlight comes in at a low angle, and the Packers crushed the Panthers on Monday night. Fall is just around the corner.

And I'm in the mood to braise something.

In the broad spectrum of meat cookery, there are dry-heat methods and moist-heat methods. Grilling is a great example of a dry-heat method, perfect for naturally tender cuts like steak, chicken, pork tenderloin, or burgers (which are mechanically tenderized by grinding). Marinate or season to taste, toss the meat onto a hot grill, and leave it there just long enough to cook through to medium rare. Brush on some barbeque sauce, and serve with grilled vegis, maybe some salsa, and cold beer. It's quick, it's simple. What's not to like? The more tender a cut of meat is, the less you want to mess with it.

But if you take a tough, sinewy cut of meat like beef chuck (shoulder) and throw it onto a grill, you'll end up with... a tough, sinewy cut of meat. If the product isn't tender to begin with, grilling is no help.

Take that same piece of chuck, however, and cook it long and slowly with just an inch or two of liquid in the pot -- enough to cover the meat about a third of the way, say -- and something amazing happens. The sinewy connective tissues in the meat gradually dissolve into the cooking liquid, yielding a silky, flavorful sauce. The meat tenderizes until you can cut it with a fork, melding its own flavors with the cooking liquid. From a leathery cow's shoulder, fork-tender perfection results. Throw in some potatoes, turnips, and carrots and you've got dinner.

To braise means to cook something in a small amount of liquid. American cooks know it as pot roast. The meat is browned in a hot pan, then liquid is added, the pot is covered, and the meat is cooked at low heat until fork tender. Vegetables and seasonings are added according to the recipe, but the most important factors are the cooking liquid used -- typically water, stock, or wine -- and time.

If grilling is about speed, fire, and ambiance, then braising is culinary alchemy. With a little bit of patience, unattractive, inexpensive cuts of meat such as lamb shanks (lower leg), ox tail, or beef tripe (that's "cow stomach" to you and me) can be transformed into delicacies with a depth and richness of flavor that filet mignon will never match. It doesn't take a lot of skill, but it does take time. Fortunately, for most of that time you don't have to do anything. Just let it simmer while you go on with your day. And if you own a crock pot, you don't even have to be home.

Braising is also perfect for fall and winter, when life moves indoors. You smell your dinner cooking all day long, as the food warms your house both literally and figuratively.

Convinced yet? Stay tuned for a sample recipe.

Back from London

Recently back from a 10-day trip to London for non-blog-related (blogless?) purposes. Following the trip there was jetlag, family visiting, stacks of unpaid bills, breakfasts and dinners that still needed cooking, and a dog who was furious at having been left behind. The blog suffered.

Riding the Woking train southwest out of Waterloo Station every day, you don't see a lot of tourist sites, but you do gain a healthy appreciation for the English garden. I'm not talking about the formal streetside gardens they show the public, but the private, fenced-in back gardens that are visible from the tracks. It's hard to put your finger on it, but the British have a knack for landscaping that we Americans lack. Gardens are densely planted, all hedge and thicket and stone, civilized without being formal. Above all, they look like they've been there awhile, and the damp air imparts a lushness that would not survive that glare of protracted sunlight. All that rain has to be good for something.

London is an amazing place, with lots to see and do. But boy, that is one expensive town. Most of my meals were fine, tasty but unremarkable, and with one or two exceptions, I don't think I ate anything that I couldn't have bought here in Chicago for about half the price. But of course, then I wouldn't have been in London. I'm not complaining, I'm just saying that on this trip it was the city and the people I met, more than the food, that stood out. (I know London has a thriving restaurant scene these days, I just had other priorities. If you go, read up on the hot places beforehand, and bring a lot of cash.)

One notable exception was a steak and kidney pie at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese on Fleet Street in the City. This pub, newly renovated in 1666 according to the sign outside, is a great old place spread over at least three levels, full of winding stairs, a cave-like basement with low ceilings and uneven floors, slab-wooden benches and rickity chairs. When you walk in it almost feels contrived, until you realize that this is what all the contrived places are trying to be. The steak and kidney pie wasn't perfect, the pastry was a bit heavy for my taste, but the meat had that richness that comes from long, slow cooking, and you could actually taste the kidneys. Most of all it fit my stereotype of authentic English food, it was served alongside some great English ale, and it was exactly what I was looking for at that moment. (You can find steak and kidney pie in Chicago, but then you wouldn't be in England.) My local guide, Ted, had one as well, though neither of us managed to finish the plate of chips (fries) that came with it.

And of course, true to my stereotypes, I brought back some Lipton Yellow Label tea (this is what they sell to the rest of the world, not like the "brisk" tea sold in the U.S.) and a few jars of curry sauce. More on that soon.