Real Food Has Curves

And so the main course for our dinner party. If you know me, you know it was a braise. A big hunk of meat that's been at a low simmer for hours, yielding a soft, luscious chunk on the plate, surrounded by vegetables and sauce. I ask you: what could be better?

Again, Bruce followed the technique in COOKING KNOW-HOW. I sound like a broken record. But we're pulling that book out all the time and playing with the techniques it lays out. We both love how much freedom we get to make a different dish every time. We've written a lot of cookbooks. And yes, we use our own recipes. But we've never used a cookbook like this one. And we wrote it! How odd.

So here goes.

Bruce first browned 1/2 pound cubed slab bacon in a big, heavy-duty, oven-safe casserole. No extra fat needed. Why do people add fat when they're browning bacon? So unnecessary. The bacon's going to render off its own. While we're not eating chuck roast for health, there's also no reason to lard down the braise.

He transferred the browned bacon chunks--and you can see they were indeed in chunks--into a big bowl, then plopped a 5-pound beef chuck roast into the pot in all that rendered bacon fat. (My goodness, my hair was so shiny the next day.) The meat had been tied with butchers' twine in two places around its circumference, just to hold its shape in the long cooking ahead.

Once again, a roast from Allen and Robin's farm. This is a boneless chuck roast, just about my favorite cut, even if it requires a good half century in a braise. But what did I care? I was stirring risotto.

He really browned the meat. No graying allowed. He let the thing go until it was actually crusty in places. As you can see, the pot was getting a nice, black lacquer on the bottom. In other words, pure flavor.

He transferred the hunk of meat to the same bowl as the bacon, then put 2 chopped medium yellow onions and 2 minced garlic cloves into the pot. He stirred them around for a minute or two, just until they got a little soft and aromatic, then he dumped in these spices: 3 tablespoons minced fresh rosemary, 1 tablespoon finely grated lemon zest, 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce, and 2 bay leaves.

He gave them a few stirs over the heat, just until ridiculously aromatic, then put the beef hunk, all the bacon, and any accumulated juices in the bowl back into the pot. He poured in about 2 cups white wine and enough canned beef broth to come halfway up the roast.

White wine? Why not? He wanted to keep the braise a little lighter. And he wasn't going to finish it off with butter (which would have been perfect if he'd used red wine). Instead, he'd already added lemon zest. Could he have used red wine? Of course. But then no lemon zest.

He sprinkled 6 medium carrots, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks, all around the pot, then brought the whole thing to a full simmer. Once everything was bubbling, he set the lid in place, turned the heat down to very low, and let the thing go for 2 1/2 hours at the merest bubble.

And there you have the two important bits of the braising technique: a very low simmer--low enough that you can count the bubbles they arise--and a tight-fitting lid on heavy-duty cookware so you lose nothing to evaporation.

All of which means this: the real secret is patience.

Meanwhile, he trimmed 18 baby artichokes down to their hearts. He took off most of the outer leaves, trimmed the stem, and then shaved down the bits around the heart until the artichokes were like little cups on stems, just the inner bit of the heart, the inner leaves, and the stem trimmed tight. (You can see the trimmed ones in the background of this shot.)

Once trimmed, he put the artichokes into a big bowl of water, stirred in the juice of a lemon, and set them aside. And once the meat had braised for 2 1/2 hours, he sprinkled the artichokes around the pot, put the lid back in place, and let it go for another hour or so, until the meat was ridiculously tender when prodded with a meat fork.

To be honest, the meat was ready for us long before we were ready for it. So he turned off the heat and put the whole pot, covered, in a 175F oven.

Once he was ready to serve it, he used a HUGE metal spatula to transfer the chuck roast to a cutting board. He scooped out all the veggies and bacon with a slotted spoon, dividing them among 8 bowls. Then he put the pot back over medium-high heat and brought the sauce to a full simmer. He whisked in 2 tablespoons potato starch mixed with 2 tablespoons water in a small bowl--and whisked the sauce for a few seconds until somewhat thickened.

He sliced off the butcher twine from around the roast, cut the meat into big chunks (sort of like pie wedges--although some fell apart a bit), put them in the serving bowls, and ladled the sauce around them. You can see in the shot that the sauce is just barely thickened. Certainly not like gravy. Just a little body under the flavor. And one other note: Bruce didn't add any extra salt since the bacon was so salty to begin with. But we had salt on the table for anyone who wanted theirs a little more spiked. I didn't; others did. But in any case, not a drop was left in any bowl.