Spring is Perfect for Braised Short Ribs

Spring is a slippery girl in Oregon, always teasing us with temperatures that can swing up into the 70s then plunge south 20 degrees, often in a single afternoon. She shakes her curls and the wind picks up, scattering blossoms from the trees onto the ground. With a season like that, it's good to be able to turn on the oven and wring a little comfort out of the day until that girl settles down into her lackadaisical summer mood.

An extra step, but so worth it!

There are few if any more braise-worthy cuts of meat than short ribs, and I am happy to play to that strength, even to the point of parting with one of the few treasured quarts of roasted tomatoes left from last summer. (Can you tell I'm getting a tad parsimonious with them about now?) And one of my favorite recipes is one I've shared before but is so incredibly good and terrifically simple that I had to bring it out to play again.

So until spring quits playing hide-and-seek behind the trees just leafing out and trades in her Easter frock for a sun dress, I'll be happily braising up my own storm in the kitchen.

Short Ribs Braciole
Adapted from Andrew Carmellini's Urban Italian: Simple Recipes and True Stories from a Life in Food



For the ribs:
1/2 c. roughly diced pancetta or bacon (about 1/4 lb.)

4 boneless short ribs (about 2 lbs.), cut into thirds

1 heaping Tbsp. salt

1/2 tsp. pepper

1 yellow onion, diced

3 cloves garlic, chopped

1/8 tsp. red pepper flakes

2 28-oz. cans tomatoes, plus their juice



For the topping:

1/4 c. pine nuts, chopped roughly

1 Tbsp. olive oil

1/4 c. breadcrumbs or panko

2 tsp. dried oregano

2 Tbsp. chopped parsley

Pinch each of salt and coarse-ground black pepper

3 hard-boiled eggs, roughly chopped

2 Tbsp. grated Parmigiano-Reggiano



Preheat the oven to 375°.



Cook the pancetta in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat until the fat renders, about 2 minutes, stirring occasionally to keep from sticking. Season the short ribs on both sides with salt and pepper, add them to the pan, and brown the meat, about 5 minutes. Remove the short ribs to a plate, then add the onion to the pan and cook until it softens, about 1 minute. Add the garlic and the red pepper flakes, mix well, and continue cooking. Crush the tomatoes over a bowl with your hands, then add them to the pot along with their juice. Bring the mixture up to a low boil. Add the browned short ribs to the pot and place it in the oven. Cover the pot tightly (you can cover the pot with a piece of parchment paper, then place the cover on top of the paper to help seal it). Check the ribs about every 30 minutes or so to make sure they're not boiling too hard. Cook until the meat is supertender and a fork can pass through it without sticking, about 2 1/2 hours.



Toast the pine nuts in a dry sauté pan over low heat, shaking the pan occasionally to avoid burning or sticking, about 6 minutes or so. Add the olive oil and mix well. Add the breadcrumbs or panko and continue cooking over low heat, mixing occasionally, until everything is toasty brown, about 2 minutes. Cool and transfer the mixture to a medium-sized mixing bowl. Add the oregano, parsley and chopped eggs. Season with the salt and pepper. Stir in the Parmigiano-Reggiano.



Remove the pot of short ribs from the oven and immediately remove the ribs to a plate, using a pair of tongs. Use a ladle to remove some of the fat from the sauce by pressing the chunky sauce away as you tip the pot so that the ladle fills only with the clear fat. (This is optional, but it definitely makes the sauce prettier—there are about 2 tablespoons of fat there.) Add 1/2 cup of water to the sauce and stir to bring it together.



Place 1 to 2 pieces of meat on each plate. Pour the sauce from the pot directly over the short ribs and sprinkle the topping generously over each dish. Can be served with polenta.

Leftovers are stunning when the meat is shredded and mixed with pasta. The topping itself would be great with pasta, too, as a variation on pangrattato.

In Season: Ramp It Up!

They're in season but, sadly, not around here. The habitat for Allium tricoccum, commonly known as ramps, is pretty much relegated to the eastern half of the US (see map below). But fortunately for us, several restaurants in the area will be including them on the menu in the next month or so.

Our friends Bruce and Mary Fishback at Bread & Ink Cafe love this odd member of the onion family and bring in some every year to feature as specials. We joined them for dinner the other night and got to try several dishes, starting with the sautéed ramps salad with ricotta cakes and orange (top photo). The cooked ramps were tender and tasted much like sauteed green onions, and I asked Bruce why ramps have the reputation of being strong-flavored and stinky when these clearly were not.

His conjecture was that ramps can become more strongly flavored as they mature and these, being about as slender as cooked spaghetti, were extremely young and tender. This was proven by the several strands of raw ramps on the side which were lovely when sliced and eaten with the ricotta cakes, orange and chevre.

The ramps with asparagus and prosciutto on polenta (right) was the essence of spring, the ramps lending a lightly garlic-and-onion backdrop to the crisp green spears of asparagus. The other entree, ramps with spaghetti, wasn't listed on the menu but was basically pangrattato tossed with sauteed ramps, a simple and delicious way to enjoy these unusual harbingers of spring.

Ramps are also being featured on the café's breakfast menu, but you'll need to get in soon or, like spring itself, they'll be gone before you know it.

Details: Bread & Ink Cafe, 3610 SE Hawthorne Blvd. Open daily for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Phone 503-239-4756.

Grateful for Pangrattato

You know the recession has hit home when the cover article of Gourmet magazine, bastion of culinary entitlement, is titled "One Terrific Ham Makes Six Incredible Dishes!"

As so many articles are telling us, though, you don't have to give up flavor just because the piggy bank has that scary hollow sound. In Italy, or so the story goes, in one of those times when the poor were getting poorer and they couldn't afford their beloved Parmigiano to sprinkle on their pasta, some genius fried bread crumbs in olive oil and garlic and used that instead, hoping her family wouldn't notice.

The magical mixture (I added some cheese anyway).

They were so hungry they most likely didn't, but she should have run down to the local patent office (surely the Romans had invented patents by then, hadn't they?) right then and there to tie up the rights.

The dish, called pangrattato or pasta con la mollica (mollica or modica being slang for breadcrumbs) was so popular it hung on even when better times (and the cheese) returned, where it was often modified with all kinds of condiments like olives, basil, anchovies, capers, mushrooms, etc., etc.

I'd never made it before, but while rummaging through the pantry as I so often do when I'm stuck for what to make for the ravening hordes (well, OK, Dave and Mr. B), I ran across a bag of garlic croutons that was reasonably fresh. All it took was crushing them with a rolling pin, mixing in a little lemon zest and parmesan, a side dish of sautéed rapini and, voilà, dinner! Genius!

Pangrattato

3 Tbsp. olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
1-1 1/2 c. crushed bread crumbs*
Zest of one lemon
1/2 c. grated parmesan cheese
1/4 c. parsley, chopped fine (optional)

Pour olive oil in skillet, add garlic and, while the pan heats, briefly sauté it, being sure not to brown the garlic. Add bread crumbs and cook, stirring frequently, until brown. Cool. Mix with remaining ingredients and toss with one lb. cooked pasta. Garnish with parsley, if desired.

* If using already toasted bread crumbs simply mix in with hot garlic and oil and cool. If using toasted garlic croutons, crush and proceed to mixing with other ingredients.

Optional ingredients include anchovies, capers, olives, mushrooms, fresh chopped herbs, red pepper flakes, etc.