Soup seems to be a universal comfort food. The French have their onion soup, the Italians minestrone, and Moroccans love harira.  For me, to be honest, tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich are the most comforting combination on earth. And Vietnamese pho is certainly part of this long list.

My parents are big fans of a Vietnamese restaurant near the neighborhood, but I never ventured much onto the unfamiliar side of the menu.  On my first visit, I ordered some cashew chicken bowl, and then came out my parents’ pho.  Big, steaming bowls of noodles and meat in a steaming, aromatic broth, delivered with a big side plate of fresh, green herbs. I was not willing to admit that I had ordered poorly, so I stuck up my nose at the pho.

Not long after that, I had one of the best bowls of soup I have ever experienced.  At a market in Cambodia, I marveled at a bowl of beef noodle soup that smelled so fantastically delicious, it absolutely enveloped me, even overpowering the smells of the market around me. The broth was so fragrant with chunks of beef and a nice slick of grease on the top that coated the noodles as I plucked them out.  I have never forgotten that soup, and know I will never truly recreate that moment.

So now when I go to the Vietnamese place, I order pho.  Different types, depending on my mood.  I don’t know what the Cambodian equivalent of pho is, but I have attempted to create my own equivalent.  I know it’s a simple version.  I don’t simmer bones to make my own stock or use any overly exotic ingredients – I’ll leave that to the restaurant chefs.  But this is warming, comforting and kind in its own way. This soup is easy to make, but impressive to serve.

Simple Beef Pho

The plate of fresh herbs presented along with the steaming soup make this a real treat.

4 cups low sodium beef broth

2 star anise

1 cinnamon stick

3 cloves garlic

1 shallot, peeled and cut into chunks

1 Tablespoon sugar

3 Tablespoons fish sauce

8 ounces rice stick noodles

6 ounces top sirloin steak

To serve:

Cilantro

Mint

Basil

Pour the broth into a large saucepan and add the spices, shallot, garlic, sugar and fish sauce.  Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat, cover the pan and simmer for 20 – 30 minutes.

While the broth is infusing, soak the rice noodles according to the package instructions.  Drain and rinse with cold water.

Slice the beef as thinly as possible.  It is easiest to do this with cold beef and a very sharp knife.  Putting the beef in the freezer for 15 minutes before slicing will also help.

When the broth has infused, drain through a sieve, discarding the solids.  Wipe out the saucepan and return the broth to it.  Place the noodles in a large serving bowl or in individual bowls. Bring the broth to a boil and drop in the beef slices.  Cook for just a minute, maybe two, until the beef is just warmed through.  Immediately transfer the beef slices to the noodle bowl, then ladle the broth over.

Serve the pho with leaves of cilantro, mint and basil to be sprinkled on top.

Serves 2

So, now you have, I am sure, studied the primer for making good Buttermilk Biscuits.  And you’d like to know all the many ways you can serve your beautiful creations. Here are two of my favorites.  I once had some friends by for a biscuit bar, serving baskets full of homemade biscuits, homemade preserves, tomato gravy, sausage gravy and lots of good butter.  I even made chocolate gravy, but I am saving that for another time.

Tomato Gravy for Biscuits

½ pound bacon

1 small onion, finely chopped

1 (14 ½ ounce) can finely diced tomatoes

3 cups tomato juice

Ground black pepper

Cut the bacon into small pieces and fry in a large skillet until crispy.  Remove the bacon to a paper-towel lined plate, then drain off all put 2 Tablespoons of bacon grease.  Fry the onion in the drippings until soft, then add the canned tomatoes and the tomato juice, scraping up any browned bacon bits from the bottom of the pan.   Season with some good grinds of black pepper.

Bring the gravy to a boil over medium high heat, then reduce the heat and simmer until the gravy thickens and reduces, about 15 – 20 minutes.  Stir in the reserved bacon. You can save some of the bacon pieces to sprinkle over the gravy if you like.  Spoon over hot, split biscuits.

Sausage Gravy for Biscuits

I like my gravy really peppery, so I go to town with the grinder.  Depending on the sausage, you may need very little or no salt.

½ pound breakfast sausage

¼ cup flour

2 ½ cups milk

Salt and ground black pepper

Crumble the sausage into a large skillet and cook until no longer pink in the middle and nice and browned.  Break the sausage into small chunks as you cook it.  Remove the sausage to a paper towel lined plate with a slotted spoon, leaving the dripping behind.  There should be about 2 Tablespoons of dripping left in the pan.  If not, add a little oil to make that amount and heat up. Sprinkle over the flour and cook, stirring and scraping, for about 2 minutes until the flour is lightly browned.  Slowly whisk in the milk, continuing to scrape the bottom of the pan.  Cook, whisking frequently, until the gravy is thick.  Stir the sausage back in and heat through, seasoning with salt and black pepper to taste. Serve over hot, split biscuits.

When I was growing up in Memphis, there were really only two fancy, sit-down, white tablecloth, special occasion restaurants.  An old-school, white-jacketed waiter, New Orleans-style place and an elegant Chinese restaurant.  My Dad is a big fan of Chinese food, so it was his choice for special meals.  My brother and I loved the egg drop soup, which had tiny little carrots floating in it cut in the shapes of ducks and bunnies.  The owner told my mom that the chef carved the whole carrot into the shape and thinly sliced the whole into paper-thin floaters.  To this day, as my kitchen obsession grows, my mother frequently asks when I plan to learn to properly carve carrot bunnies.

I was probably twelve or thirteen before any other Chinese restaurant opened, and we ate there a lot.  Sesame Chicken, Egg Drop Soup, Fried Wontons, Lemon Chicken, Mongolian Beef, Mu Shu Pork.  The standard fare in this area, on the menus of the many subsequent Chinese restaurants to open.  When I went off to college in Connecticut, my friends and I ordered Chinese food from the local, college-friendly delivery joint.  This group of folks were all from the New England and they took over the ordering, choosing their standard choice of dishes.  When we laid it all out on the floor of the dorm room, I was flummoxed.  Everyone was digging in heartily and I didn’t recognize some of the dishes.  Sure beef and broccoli was there, but I’d never seen cold sesame noodles (now one of my favorites) or dumplings before.  It had never occurred to me that ethnic food could be regional not just in its country of origin but in its transplanted incarnation as well. 

Dumplings have made their way onto Chinese menus in Memphis as totally standard fare now.  My nieces are big fans.  It never crossed my mind that dumplings were something you might make at home until I stumbled across a magazine article about the process.  I didn’t save the article, but it stuck with me for weeks until I just had to try it for myself.  I use packaged dumpling wrappers and make a flavorful filling.  I like to make a big batch and freeze them to pull out and cook when I’m in the mood.  I have to say, I am rather impressed with myself for this accomplishment.

Chinese Dumplings

1 pound ground pork

1 medium carrot finely grated

4 green onions, finely chopped

1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger

2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

1 teaspoon Chinese five spice

1 Tablespoon soy sauce

½ teaspoon ground Szechuan peppercorns (optional)

1 package wonton or dumpling wrappers

Place all the filling ingredients in a large bowl and mix thoroughly.  Your clean hands are the best tool for this.

I find it easiest here to set up a little assembly line. Place a small bowl of water in easy reach. Lay some of the wonton wrappers out on the counter, and place about a teaspoon of filling in the center of each wrapper.  Wet your finger with water and run it around the edge of the wrapper.  Fold the wrapper over the filling and press the edges together, pressing any air bubbles out and sealing completely.  Keep going until you have used up all the filling. You should end up with 35 – 40 dumplings.

Place the folded dumplings on a baking sheet or plates lined with waxed paper.  Place the dumplings in the freezer until solid, at least an hour, then transfer to a plastic freezer bag or container.  I like to divide into portions of six or seven dumplings in individual bags.

There are several ways to prepare these dumplings: 

For fried dumplings: Thaw the dumplings in the fridge. Heat about 1 inch of vegetable oil in a skillet and fry the dumplings until crispy and golden. Remove the dumplings to a paper towel lined plate to drain and serve with soy or ponzu sauce to dip.

For pan-fried dumplings:  Thaw the dumplings or cook from frozen.  For each 6 – 7 dumplings, bring 1 ½ cups of chicken broth and one tablespoon of oil to a boil.  Add the dumplings and continue to cook until the broth has evaporated.  The dumplings will cook and brown on the bottom in the residual oil.

Makes 35- 40 dumplings

Familiar is good.  A good, juicy burger with melty cheese on a soft bun.  Maybe some fries on the side.  But different is good too.  And this pork, sage and apple burger fits that bill perfectly.  Juicy pork kept moist with tart green apples and tangy onions – a brilliant combination that will make a difference in a weeknight meal, or impress your friends with an exciting burger twist. And kids will love these too.  A side of sweet potato fries are a good match.

Pork, Sage and Apple Burgers

I love these served on an onion roll with caramelized onions, and maybe some melted fontina cheese.  This recipe makes 8 burgers, but they freeze beautifully if that’s more than you need.

2 pounds lean ground pork

1 medium Granny Smith apple

1 medium red onion

6 Tablespoons plain bread crumbs

1 large bunch fresh sage

salt and pepper

Put the pork into a large bowl – it is easier to work with if it is not too cold from the fridge.  Grate the apple and the onion together (this can be done in the food processor).  Add to the pork in the bowl.  Add the bread crumbs to the mixture and work together with clean hands until everything is well blended. 

Finely chop the sage and add to the mixture with a pinch of salt and a grind of pepper, and continue working until completely mixed. 

Divide the mixture into eight equal portions and form into patties.  Refrigerate until ready to use, or wrap each tightly and freeze for up to 3 months.

To cook, brown on both sides in a skillet.  Transfer to a 375 degree oven and cook until done through, about 20 minutes.

Makes 8 burgers

This is an extra post this week, because to be honest, I am quite pleased with myself.  My recipe for Pastitsio is a finalist in the wonderful website Food52 contest for Best Baked Pasta dish.  When I saw the contest theme, I immediately remembered how much I enjoy this dish.  This Greek lamb casserole is as comforting and homey as any cheesy, meaty baked pasta, but with a unique twist of lamb, red wine, herbs and salty feta.  Served with a Greek salad and some crusty bread, this is a meal out of the ordinary with a familiar feel. 

Food52 is an amazing site to read and search for recipes.  They are holding weekly recipe contests with different themes and will publish a cookbook at the end of the project.  I know you’ll enjoy the site, maybe you’ll submit your own recipe.  And while your there, consider voting for The Runaway Spoon’s Pastitsio.

Pastitsio

Greek-Style Lamb Casserole

This can be made in one big family style casserole, or two smaller sizes.  Take one to a friend and have one for dinner.

1 pound dried penne or ziti pasta

1 Tablespoon butter

2 pounds ground lamb

2 medium onions, diced

1/2 cup red wine

1 6-ounce can tomato paste

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 Tablespoon dried oregano

1/2 teaspoon sumac (optional)

1 teaspoon dried mint (optional)

2 cups water

6 ounces crumbled feta

For the cheese sauce:

6 Tablespoons butter

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

3 cups milk

1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1/4 cup Parmesan cheese, grated

Cook the pasta according to package directions, drain and reserve.  Stir in the butter to prevent sticking.

In a large saucepan over medium heat, cook the lamb until no longer pink, breaking it into pieces, about 8 minutes.  Add the onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes.

Transfer to a colander and shake well to drain the fat.  Return the lamb to the pan, add the wine and cook over medium heat until most of the liquid has evaporated.  Stir in the tomato paste, cinnamon, oregano, (sumac and mint if using) and 2 cups of water.  Simmer, stirring occasionally, until thickened, about 15 to 20 minutes.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Set aside to cool.

For the cheese sauce, melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat.  Whisk in the flour until incorporated, about 30 seconds.  In a slow steady stream, whisk in the milk until there are no lumps.  Cook, whisking often, until the mixture is thick and bubbly and coats the back of a spoon, about 5 – 7 minutes.  Stir in the cayenne and the Parmesan.

When ready to cook, preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Add the pasta to the lamb mixture and stir to combine.  Toss in the feta and combine. Spoon the mixture into a greased 9  x13 inch baking dish, or two 8 by 8 inch pans.   Spread the cheese sauce over the pasta mixture, smoothing the top with a spoon. Bake until browned in spots, 35 to 40 minutes.  Remove from the oven then allow to cool for about 15 minutes before serving.

This will keep assembled up to one day in the fridge, covered with plastic wrap. To freeze, cool completely and wrap tightly in foil.  Thaw completely and reheat.

The Italian Grandmother in My Head

I do not have a particularly ethnic background.  Basic Anglo-Scots stock.  Okay, a WASP.  I cherish my Southern heritage and all the great culinary traditions I have enjoyed, inherited, and try to preserve.  But I’ve never had a Bubbe teach me to make latkes or an Abuela to show me how to roll tamales.  No Greek uncle schooling me on spit-roasted lamb or Czech relative mastering the technique for kolaches.  But I have often wished that I could pick up some of those traditions – draft on the experience of my more diverse friends.  I developed this deep desire to make Italian gravy – real meat sauce, what I would call Bolognese.  The kind that someone’s Nonna used to make.  So I asked a friend from a large, widespread Italian- American family if she could show me how to make a good sauce. Alas, her family lived next door to the city’s great Italian restaurant family, so they just bought theirs from the neighbors.  Another friend of Italian heritage held more promise.  She assured me her grandmother made fantastic sauce – really easy, but authentic and she sent me the recipe.  It wasn’t what I had expected.  Cheap, fatty beef, canned tomato sauce, canned tomato paste, dried Italian seasoning, powdered garlic and onions.  Now, it was a good sauce, but not really what I had in mind.  I could imagine her grandmother explaining the recipe.  What a joy it had been to create a sauce that didn’t require hours of chopping and mincing and peeling.  But my desire was really for something a little more traditional – or at least how I envisioned traditional.

So I went to work, researching and testing, tasting and starting over.  I read old Italian cookbooks and new Italian cookbooks.  I flipped through community cookbooks looking for any remotely Italian names as contributors.  I tried many, and failed often.  So I just sat back and thought about all I’d read, all I’d tried and what I imagined the finished product would taste like.  Then I got to chopping.  First off, I do use quality canned tomatoes, because they are packed at peak freshness and do cut down on the amount of work.  Other than that it’s all me. 

Having a good meat sauce recipe up your sleeve is a real blessing.  Make a huge batch, it will keep in the fridge for several days and can be frozen in whatever quantity you are likely to use (one family-sized bag and several single-serves maybe).  Use straight over noodles, as a layer in lasagna, stuffed into manicotti, or any way you can imagine.  The best thing about making your own meat sauce is that you know exactly what’s in it – no preservatives, unnecessary chemicals, you can limit the salt and fat amounts.                

Bolognese Sauce

Italian Meat Sauce

This recipe makes a huge batch, which is fabulous because it freezes beautifully and has a wealth of uses.  By all means half the recipe, but I can’t imagine why you would!

1 large yellow onion

2 celery ribs

2 carrots

3 Tablespoons olive oil

5 cloves garlic

1 pound ground chuck

1 pound mild Italian sausage, bulk or casings removed

2 (28-ounce) cans crushed tomatoes

1 cup red wine

1 cup beef broth

2 teaspoons sugar

1 teaspoon nutmeg

Salt and pepper to taste

½ cup chopped fresh oregano

½ cup chopped fresh basil

Finely chop the onion, celery and carrot – you really want small pieces here and you can use the food processor in a few pulses if you’d like. Finely mince the garlic seperately. Pour the oil into a large Dutch oven. Add the onion and sauté until soft.  Add the celery and the carrots and continue to sauté until soft and slightly browned, about 10 minutes.  Add the garlic and cook a further minute.  Add the beef and sausage, breaking the meat up with a spoon.  Cook, stirring frequently, until the meat is no longer pink and beginning to brown.  Make sure all the meat is nicely crumbled.  Drain off any accumulated fat.

Add the tomatoes, wine, broth, sugar and nutmeg.  Stir to blend then bring to a boil.  Reduce the heat to low, add salt and pepper to taste.  Stir in the chopped oregano and basil.  Cover the pot and simmer over low heat for 1 hour, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking on the bottom of the pan.  Remove from the heat to cool if not serving immediately

Scoop the cooled sauce into freezer bags or rigid freezer containers.  Refrigerate for up to a week or freeze for up to 3 months.  When ready to use, thaw overnight in the fridge or for and hour submerged in a bowl of cold water.  Pour into a saucepan and reheat over medium until bubbling and heated through.  Serve over noodles.

It may be politically incorrect, but I love veal.  It is my favorite meat.  If there is a veal dish on the menu (apart from sweetbreads), I will order it.  I have eaten a great veal swath across the globe. On a family vacation in Eastern Europe, I ate wiener schnitzel in Vienna every day, then moved on to veal paprikas at Gundel in Budapest.  I ate saltimbocca in Italy meal after meal, at a courtyard trattoria in Rome, at the restaurant at the Hasler Hotel overlooking the Spanish Steps, gazing out over the ocean at Le Sireneuse in Positano.  I ordered osso bucco in the fine European restaurant at the Taj Hotel in Bombay, scooping out the marrow with a tiny silver spoon.  I thank my brother for attending Tulane so I could relish grillades and grits at Commander’s Palace in New Orleans. In Boston, I fondly remember braised veal cheeks at Chez Henri.  My first vitello tonnato was served at Lupo in Cape Town. A there is a restaurant here in Memphis serves some veal selections, but I will always remember (and apparently I am the only one who does) a special of veal in a brie and calvados sauce.  I ordered veal bitterballen from room service in Amsterdam, then again at Schipol airport. I buy beautiful rosé veal escalopes in London at Borough Market to sauté in the tiny, ill-equipped kitchen of the rented flat.

Veal in Memphis is not always easy to track down, particularly anything beyond veal scallopine, as the thin slices are labeled.  Generally, I take a few of these home, lightly dust them with flour and quickly sauté them in butter with lemons, capers and some chopped herbs and eat them – all by myself – maybe with a little garlic fettuccine on the side. 

But once, I truly had a late night, awake in bed epiphany about how to combine veal and chestnuts, a favorite combination.  I grabbed a pen and paper and jotted down my ideas and the next day, it still made sense, and a very good meal.  See, I even dream in veal…

Crispy Chestnut Veal with Chestnut Wine Sauce

1 (7.4 – ounce) jar whole peeled chestnuts

1 cup flour

4 sprigs thyme

3 sprigs marjoram

salt

pepper

3/4 cup panko bread crumbs (or very coarse breadcrumbs)

6 veal scallops

1 egg

4 Tablespoons butter

1/4 cup olive oil

Place 1/4 cup of the flour in a zip top bag.  Put half of the jar of chestnuts in the bag and shake to coat (use the remaining chestnuts for the sauce, below).  Drop the coated chestnuts into the bowl of a food processor (I like the mini-sized here). Add the thyme leaves stripped from the stalk, the marjoram leaves, salt and pepper and the bread crumbs.  Pulse several times in quick bursts just until you have a coarse crumb mixture.  Don’t over mix or it will get pasty.   Turn the crumbs out onto a flat dish.

In another flat dish, beat the egg.  Add the rest of the flour to the zip top bag, drop in the veal and shake well to coat.  Remove the veal one piece at a time, making sure the whole scallop is coated, but shaking off excess.  Dip each piece in the egg, coating well but sweeping any thick parts off with your fingers.  Dip the veal in the breadcrumb mixture and press into both sides, coating well.  Place coated piece on a plate and continue with the remaining veal.  Place the veal in the fridge for at least half an hour, but you can leave for several hours.

Line a baking sheet with foil, then with a few layers of paper towel and set aside. When ready to cook the veal, heat 4 Tablespoons butter and 1/4 olive oil in a large skillet and heat over medium until hot but not smoking.  Sauté the veal a few pieces at a time, being sure not to overcrowd the pan.  Turn each piece at least once until brown and crispy on both sides.  Remove the prepared baking sheet.  When all the veal is cooked, place the pan in a 200 degree oven to keep warm for up to 20 minutes.

Serve with chestnut – wine sauce and sprinkled with chopped chestnuts

Chestnut-Wine Sauce

1 half of a (7.4 – ounce) jar of chestnuts

1 shallot

2 Tablespoons olive oil

1 Tablespoon butter

3-4 sprigs thyme

3 sprigs marjoram

2 Tablespoons Madeira wine or white vermouth

1/2 cup white wine

3/4 cup heavy cream

1/2 cup (1 stick) butter

Reserve 4 -5 chestnuts to chop and sprinkle over the cooked veal.  Place the rest in the food processor and puree, dribbling in a little water, until you have a smooth paste – sort of like baby food.  Set aside. 

Chop the shallot and add to butter and oil in a saucepan.  Sauté over medium heat until soft and translucent, but not browning.  Remove from the heat and add the Madeira, scraping up the bits from the bottom of the pan.  Return to the heat and cook until reduced and almost evaporated, making the shallots glazed and syrupy.  Add the wine, thyme and marjoram and reduce until just a few Tablespoons are left, stirring frequently.  Whisk in the cream and the chestnut puree.  Simmer until the mixture is reduced by one-third.  Strain the sauce into a dish, then wipe out the pan with a wad of paper towels to remove any solids. Pour the strained sauce back into the pan and whisk in the butter, a Tablespoon at a time, making sure each bit is thoroughly melted before adding another.

The sauce can be made up to an hour ahead and gently reheated over low, whisking to incorporate.

Serves 4- 6, depending on the size of the veal

Crispy Chestnut Veal is delicious served with Champagne Risotto

In Bruges

When I was young and foolish and full of high ideals, I spent a semester away from college studying European politics in London.  The whole merry band of scholars was ushered to Brussels for a week to visit the European Union headquarters and NATO and lots of other sites twenty year-old college student find fascinating.  We were, however, granted a free day to do as we wished.  The male half of our contingent chose to take the overnight train to Amsterdam and spend a full day (and night) taking in the, shall we say, less cultural attractions that for which the city is so famous.  But we were women of culture and intellect.  We ladies determined to spend our free day improving our minds and learning about art and history…in any place that was an easy train ride away and cheap.  So we chose Bruges. 

Bruges is a beautiful city, with medieval squares and winding canals, just oozing with mind-improving things.  We managed to get from the rail station to the center of town and wandered around aimlessly, as our brilliant plan did not include a guide book or, in fact, knowing anything whatsoever about Bruges.  My mother had told me that I should buy some Belgian lace while in the country, so we found a little shop and each picked out a souvenir.  I did my mother proud and I bought four lace placemats and four lace napkins.  Eventually, our aimless wandering worked up an appetite, so we stopped in a seemingly quaint little restaurant, right in the center of things, with dark paneling and old plates hanging on the walls. To us, it looked very authentic.  The menu was limited, but featured carbonnades flamandes, a hearty beef stew I was familiar with, how I can’t imagine.  So I insisted that we order this typical Belgian culinary tradition and everyone agreed.  It made us feel as if we were truly experiencing local culture, as our day so far had largely consisted of lace shopping and pointless rambling, with very little of that intellectual improvement we were so determined to experience.

The waiter was surly – we thought it was charming – and didn’t, or didn’t want to, communicate in English.  But we made ourselves understood and ordered that traditional carbonnades flamandes.  We had managed to round up a few tourist brochures, so we sat back and started to plan the afternoon.  Occasionally, a lady with her gray hair wound in a tight bun would pop her head out of the kitchen and look at us skeptically.  Time passed, and we started to notice.  Thirty minutes and no food – and no waiter.  Another fifteen passed.  The waiter appeared but we were unable to make any headway in communication.  The little grey haired head kept popping out.  More time passed, and it occurred to us that no one else was in the restaurant.  By this time, we’d finished our beers and the basket of stale bread, down to the crumbs.  We would try to get the attention of the head, each time it popped out, but it would only dart quickly back behind the swinging door. We could have left, but we were hungry, and a little overwhelmed that our high-minded plans were proving such a wash.  We reached the breaking point and had just decided to leave when the head popped out and then the waiter reappeared and plopped down or big steaming bowls of carbonnades flamandes. 

I can’t say it was the best meal I have ever had, and was undoubtedly much improved by our ravenous hunger and frustration, but in the end it proved to be memorable. We spent about three and half hours in the restaurant.  By the time we left, the rest of our day was pretty much gone and we had to start figuring out how to get back to the rail station.  We took the wrong bus, though we didn’t realize it until the driver turned of the lights, got off and shut the doors and we had to bang on the windows to get his attention.  A long, cold, walk and expensive cab ride got us to the last train back to Brussels.  And I can tell you, after all that, a big steaming bowl of carbonnades flamandes would have hit the spot.  As you can imagine, the story we told to the boys who stumbled back bleary-eyed from Amsterdam in no way resembled the one I’ve told here.

This is a wonderful fall and winter stew, perfect for your Oktoberfest celebrations.  And it features my favorite kind of cooking – a little time in prep and a slow cook in the oven that transforms simple ingredients into a rich, flavorful meal.  And your house will smell wonderfully warm and inviting while this cooks.

Belgian Beef and Beer

Carbonnades Flamandes

The character of the beer is a big part of this dish, so choose one you enjoy and want to drink with the dish.  For authenticity, you can use a Belgian Trappist Chimay.  I love the flavor of marjoram, but it can be difficult to find, so you can leave it out.

3 pounds boneless beef chuck or round steak, cut into 1 inch cubes

1/2 cup flour

1 ½ teaspoons black pepper

2 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon ground sage

1 teaspoon dried thyme

1/4 cup olive or vegetable oil, plus more as needed

4 medium onions, thinly sliced

4 cloves garlic, minced

1/4 cup light brown sugar

2 Tablespoons cornstarch

1/2 cup beef stock

12 ounces beer, amber or dark

2 bay leaves

a few sprigs of fresh marjoram (optional)

Heat oven to 325 degrees.

In a zip top bag, combine flour, salt, pepper, sage and thyme.  Add the beef cubes and shake to coat.

Heat 3 Tablespoons of oil in a large oven-safe Dutch oven over medium heat and brown the beef on all sides.  You will probably need to work in batches adding a few more drops of oil for each batch. Remove the browned beef pieces to a plate.

When the beef is browned, pour in the remaining oil and add onions to the pot over medium heat.  Saute the onions until soft and translucent, stirring to scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot.  Add the brown sugar and stir to coat.  When the onions are nicely browned and soft, stir in the garlic and the browned beef cubes with any juices that have accumulated on the plate.

In a small bowl or measuring cup, whisk together the beef stock and cornstarch until smooth.  Pour over the beef and onion mixture then add the beer, stirring to combine completely.  Add the bay leaves and marjoram, if using.  Cover the pot and transfer to the oven for 2 to 2 ½ hours until the meat is tender. Remove the bay leaves and marjoram stems.  Season with salt to taste.

Serve the Carbonnades Flamandes with buttered noodles tossed with chopped parsley.

Can be made up to two days ahead and kept covered in the refrigerator. Reheat in a low oven before serving.

Serves 6

There are certain activities that anyone in any particular town, city, state or region is expected to have participated in.  Wouldn’t you be surprised by someone living in Hawaii who had never been to the beach?  Or shocked by a resident of Paris who had never even seen the Eiffel Tower?

Well, I have one of those surprising confessions.  I have never been to an SEC football game. You would not believe the looks of shock and horror that cross the faces of people who hear this tragic tale. I have only in fact been to one college football game, and that was freshman year at my small school in Connecticut, and to be honest, that’s not really the same thing.  It’s not that I have an issue or a problem with big-time college football, the opportunity has just never presented itself (and yes, I will be expecting some invitations after this).  As a point of fact, I have never been to a professional football game either.

In the past few weeks, a number of people have told me that I should write a post about tailgating.  Not just one person.  Several.  I smiled and said what a good idea that would be, knowing that it was highly unlikely.  I have never tailgated.  I don’t really know exactly what’s involved. 

The last person to suggest that I write about tailgating was my aunt, and she had some constructive advice.  She recently dug up one of my old standby recipes for a great fall appetizer and took it to an outdoor, all day party.  She told me it would make a perfect tailgating recipe. And I trust my aunt.  Of course, this is a great appetizer for any fall occasion, even if you are watching the game in front of the TV.

So here it goes, a hearty, fall appetizer that is often described as one men love.  I don’t know why particularly.  Or why that’s relevant.  Many of the rabid football followers I know are women.  But this dish holds well, just keep it covered tightly and transport the dish in a thermal carrier or wrapped in a towel for insulation. Its good at room temperature as well.

Glazed Kielbasa

Use a good quality kielbasa and your favorite mustard.  You can also replace the bourbon with Calvados or brandy.

1 pound kielbasa

1 cup white wine or vermouth

2 Tablespoons light brown sugar

2 Tablespoons Dijon mustard or coarse grain mustard

2 Tablespoons bourbon

Cut the kielbasa into ½ inch slices, then each slice into halves.  Arrange the kielbasa in one layer in a large skillet.  Pour over the wine and bring to a boil over medium high heat.  Cook until the wine is almost all evaporated, about 12 minutes, stirring occasionally.

When the wine is all but gone, stir in the brown sugar, mustard and bourbon. Cook for about three minutes longer, stirring constantly.  The kielbasa pieces should be coated with a syrupy glaze.

Transfer the kielbasa to a serving platter and serve with cocktail picks.

Serves 8 – 10

Ingredients on offer in Chiang Mai, Thailand

I love the flavor of Thai food, but it can be a little time consuming to prepare. This easy elegant wrap is simplified with bought roast beef.  These little lettuce cups make a great appetizer, served on a big, pretty platter, or a simple cold summer supper.  Choose a roast beef from the deli counter that is not highly seasoned or specially flavored and do not have it sliced paper thin. 

Easy Thai Beef Salad Cups

1/4 cup fish sauce

1/2 Tablespoon sesame oil

Juice of one lime

2 Tablespoons light brown sugar

1 scallion

1 small shallot

1 teaspoon minced garlic

1 small red chile (optional)

4 mint leaves

4 basil leaves

2 sprigs cilantro leaves

4 ounces deli roast beef

1/2 cucumber

1 head butter lettuce

1/4 cup salted peanuts, chopped

In an airtight container with a lid, whisk together the fish sauce, sesame oil, lime juice and brown sugar until the sugar is dissolved.  Chop the scallion and shallot and add with the garlic to the marinade. (Chop the chile and add to the marinade if using). Chop the mint, basil and cilantro and add to the marinade.  Whisk to mix thoroughly.

Cut the roast beef into thin strips.  Drop into the marinade, place the lid on the container tightly and shake to coat.  Refrigerate several hours, shaking occasionally to keep covered.

When ready to serve, slice the cucumber into matchstick pieces or thin half moons. Remove the beef from the marinade – shake it off, but leaves some clinging to the meat.  Place in a bowl with the cucumbers and toss to combine.  Separate several leaves of lettuce and fill each one with the beef mixture.  Sprinkle with chopped peanuts.

Serves 4 – 6