Praising the Braise: Choucroute Garnie

It's not often I get to write, "As we drove through the rolling hills from Frankfurt across the German-French border, the towns grew increasingly smaller and older, the buildings more charming and fairy tale-like with stone and moss the predominant textures."

Braising the vegetables.

It was an incredibly long time ago, and our last through the French countryside, a road trip that took us from the Alsace region across to the Loire, then down through the Dordogne with a swing back up to Frankfurt. Our first stop was in an auberge in the tiny town of Riquewihr, one with a traditional Alsatian restaurant on the main floor and rooms for guests on the second floor.

Adding the bacon.

Coming down for dinner that night, we found we'd walked into a special evening featuring that most Alsatian of dishes, choucroute garnie. A long table ran down one side of the room, the length of it piled with the most sweetly fragrant sauerkraut, braised for hours in stock, bay leaves and juniper berries. On top of the sauerkraut were all kinds of sausages from the area, along with slices of smoked ham, whole pork chops and other meats, all of which had been cooked in the braised sauerkraut.

In goes the meat…getting there!

That choucroute (pron. shoo-CROOT) completely changed my attitude toward sauerkraut, which up to that point had always been a tart, vinegary-tasting accompaniment to my grandmother's cabbage rolls, which she called "hoblich" (probably a variation on Ukrainian "holopchi"), or my mother's sauerkraut with hot dogs, her attempt to pay homage to my father's German heritage. In this version, rinsed of most of the salt and sourness, then simmered until meltingly tender, even the most adamant of the sauerkraut averse will rave.

Choucroute Garnie
Loosely adapted from Time-Life Foods of World: Provincial France

6-8 lbs. sauerkraut
1 lb. bacon (optional)*
4 Tbsp. olive oil
2 med. onions, chopped fine
2 Tbsp. garlic, minced
2 c. carrots, cut in 1/4" rounds
1 tart apple, cored and chopped in 1/2" dice
6 c. chicken stock
2 c. dry white wine
1 Tbsp. salt
1/4 tsp. black pepper
8 sprigs parsley
3 bay leaves
20 juniper berries
2 lbs. uncooked sausages, like bratwurst
2 lbs. chicken thighs**
3 smoked pork chops
4 1/2" slices ham
Yukon gold potatoes

Preheat the oven to 325°.

Rinse the sauerkraut in several changes of water to get rid of excess salt and vinegar. (Homemade is best, but if that's not available, I like a good commercial brand like Bubbies, containing just cabbage, salt and water.) After rinsing, squeeze it vigorously to get out as much water as possible. Repeat. (Save the fermented juice for all kinds of uses…search for "uses for sauerkraut juice.")

In a heavy 9-qt. casserole or Dutch oven (I used Big Blue), heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onions, garlic and carrots and sauté for 10 min., stirring often to prevent sticking. Stir in the chopped apple and continue cooking for 2 or 3 min., then stir in the sauerkraut and combine thoroughly. Reduce the heat as low as possible, cover the pot and braise the vegetables for 15 min. Then add the chicken stock, wine, salt, pepper, parsley, bay leaves and juniper berries and stir to combine. Top with bacon, if using. Cover tightly, place on middle rack of the oven and braise for 3 hrs.

After the sauerkraut has braised for 3 hrs., prick the sausages 4 or 5 times and add to the casserole with the chicken thighs, pork chops and ham slices, burying them in the sauerkraut. Cover, return the pot to the oven and braise for 1 to 1 1/2 hrs.

Toward the end of the cooking time, heat a large pot of water till boiling, halve the potatoes and cook till tender.

To serve, transfer the sauerkraut to a deep, heated platter or serving dish, removing the bay leaves and as many of the juniper berries as you can. Mound the meat over the top. Serve with potatoes on the side.

* The last time I made this, I left out the bacon and it was much less fatty. The smoked pork chops and ham made up for any loss of smoky flavor.

** Duck legs or rabbit would also be great in this.

Praising the Braise: Grass-fed Short Ribs Long on Flavor

I was in my usual zoned-out state at the grocery store the other day picking up a few necessities—coffee, pasta, milk—and trying to decide what to make for dinner. Walking past the butcher case, I saw chuck roast for $6.99 per pound from Oregon Country Beef, a co-op of ranchers that, despite the name, sources its beef from well beyond Oregon's borders, including ranches in Washington, Idaho, Nevada and California.

Oregon Country Beef cattle finished in a feedlot.

According to the company, the co-op's cattle start their lives on pasture and are raised on rangeland for most of their first 14 to 18 months,* then are shipped to a feedlot for "finishing" on a diet of non-GMO wheat, barley and potatoes (photo, left), a four-month process that fattens cattle to increase their weight before slaughter.

Carman Ranch cattle live their lives on pasture.

Then I saw there was a special on—be still my heart—short ribs for just a buck more per pound. Even better, they were from Carman Ranch, a grass-based ranch in Oregon's Wallowa County where Cory Carman raises cattle on the land that's been in her family for more than 100 years. Her cattle spend their entire lives right up to the point of slaughter on its broad pastures at the base of the Wallowa Mountains (photo, right), and the regenerative practices she champions sequesters carbon in the soil and produces more nutrient-dense, leaner meat.

While I commend the fact that the chuck roast came from cattle raised on non-GMO feed, those short ribs were singing their green-green-grass-of-home song. I brought four pounds home, sautéed a base of vegetables—call it mirepoix (French), sofrito (Spanish), soffritto (Italian) or even włoszczyzna (Polish)—then added roasted tomatoes and red wine along with the short ribs. Ninety minutes later this ultimate comfort food dinner was meltingly tender, and looked (and tasted) stunning served alongside my friend Kathryn's saffron rice.

Red Wine and Tomato-Braised Short Ribs

3 Tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped in 1/2" dice
3 stalks celery, cut diagonally into 1/4" slices
3 medium carrots, halved and cut in 1/2" slices
3 large cloves garlic, minced
4 c. roasted tomatoes
2 c. robust red wine
4 lbs. short ribs
3 bay leaves
1 Tbsp. fresh rosemary, stemmed and minced
1 tsp. dried oregano
1/2 tsp. dried thyme
Salt to taste

Heat olive oil over medium-high heat in large braising pot or Dutch oven. When it shimmers, add onions and sauté until translucent, then add celery, carrots and garlic and sauté until tender. Add tomatoes and red wine and bring to a simmer. Add short ribs and herbs, bring to a boil, then reduce heat to simmer for 90 minutes to two hours until meat is very tender and almost falling off the bones. Add salt to taste and serve over saffron rice or with boiled or mashed potatoes.

* Conventionally raised cattle—those that are born and live on pasture for their first few months and are then moved to feedlots where they're typically fed a diet of GMO corn and soy laced with antibiotics and sometimes growth hormones—are generally slaughtered at one year to 18 months old, depending on their weight.

Photo of Oregon Country Beef cattle at a feedlot from Newport Avenue Market in Bend. Photo of Carman Ranch cattle from its website.

Winter Warmth: Fennel-Braised Pork Belly Stew

My husband makes bacon. So we go through a fair amount of pork belly in year's time, even when we're doing 12 to 14 pounds at a time. (Our friends are often happy recipients, and between trips to the beach and summer camping with big groups, we can go through a lot.) The thing is, he likes to square off the sometimes-raggedy ends of the bellies before curing them, which means there are several odd chunks of belly that pile up in the freezer.

Browning the belly.

Rummaging through the freezer the other day, I realized we had accumulated close to three pounds of these frozen ends, including recent trimmings from some gorgeous Joyce Farms pork belly, whose regenerative agricultural practices are beyond impressive. So I began scouring through online recipes that didn't require hours of prep time or, heaven forfend, a trip to the store.

Luckily I'd picked up a couple of bulbs of fennel at the farmers' market, and when I saw a fennel-braised belly from Mario Batali on the list, I gave it a look. In typical Batali fashion (don't get me started) it was packed with loads of over-the-top spicing—three tablespoons of chopped rosemary plus three tablespoons of ground fennel seeds in the rub, then another tablespoon of ground fennel seeds in the braise. Really, Mario?

Greatly reducing the amount of ground fennel and cutting the rosemary by a third balanced out the flavors and avoided what could have been a bitter aftertaste in the braise. Oh, and the finished bacon? Spectacular, as always.

Fennel-braised Pork Belly Stew

For the rub:
1/2 c. brown sugar
1 Tbsp. fennel seeds, toasted and ground
3 Tbsp. salt
2 Tbsp. fresh rosemary, finely chopped
2 tsp. red pepper flakes

For the braise:
2 Tbsp. olive oil
3 lbs. pork belly (skinless)
2 bulbs fennel
2 carrots, quartered and sliced crosswise into 1/2” pieces
1 onion, chopped in 1/2” dice
4 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1 12-oz. bottle beer (amber or not-too-hoppy winter ale is great)
Salt to taste

To make the rub, toast fennel seeds in a small pan over medium-high heat, moving the pan back and forth to keep them moving, until they just start to color and smell wonderful. (You want to avoid any smoke, which indicates burning.) Remove from heat, cool slightly and grind in spice grinder. (We have an inexpensive electric coffee grinder dedicated to grinding spices.) In a small bowl, combine with remaining rub ingredients and stir.

Cut 1/2” deep, diagonal grid into both sides of the pork belly. Cover both sides with spice rub.

Heat olive oil over medium-high heat in large Dutch oven until it shimmers. Add pork belly and sear on both sides. Remove to plate when well-browned. Add onions to pot and sauté until translucent, scraping up browned bits from searing the belly. Add garlic until it is warmed and fragrant. Add remaining vegetables and seared pork belly. Pour beer over the top, bring to a boil and reduce heat to simmer. Cover and cook for 1 1/2 to 2 hrs. Adjust salt to taste as necessary.

If you like, you can chop the nearly-falling-apart belly into biggish chunks before serving. I served it with roasted slices of garnet yam, but next time I'm going to give Hank Shaw’s squash dumplings (without the mushrooms) a try; you could make them while the stew cooks.

Warm-Up for Fall: Pot Roast Bourguignon

One neighbor remarked while passing by that the ash trees surrounding our house were "over-achievers" since their golden leaves are the first to fall in our neighborhood. Which means we're finished with the raking and piling when the leaves are still relatively dry and easy to gather up rather than sodden and heavy later on.

Before roasting…

Raking even our relatively small corner lot is still a lot of hard work, especially if your normal workout involves lifting a coffee cup to your lips or casually strolling around the neighborhood with your dogs. The heavenly pot roast recipe below is super simple and can be assembled and put in the oven to braise for a few hours while you're outside doing yardwork. Plus it provides an excuse to schedule breaks every hour or so to check and make sure the liquid hasn't all cooked away (add water if it seems low).

…and after. Mmmmmm!

The smell when you come in the house for those "breaks" will give you motivation to get the outside work done quicker, too, the better to come inside and enjoy a cocktail while you make a salad and boil some potatoes to serve alongside. And sitting down to a hearty and flavor-filled dinner that basically cooks itself? I can't think of a better reward for all that hard work!

Pot Roast Bourguignon

This is extremely easy to make, but you'll need to get it in the oven four hours before dinner or make it the day before. Cutting back on the time in the oven makes for a less than stellar texture.

4 slices bacon, cut in 1/4" pieces
1 3-5 lb. chuck roast
Salt and pepper
1 large onion, chopped in 1/2" dice
4 cloves garlic, chopped roughly
2 ribs celery, chopped in 1/4" slices
4 carrots, sliced in 1/4" rounds
1 lb. mushrooms, sliced
1 Tbsp. basil
1 tsp. thyme
2 sprigs rosemary
1 quart (32 oz.) roasted tomatoes
3-4 c. red wine

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Put bacon in a large braising pot that can go in the oven and fry till fat is rendered and it starts to brown. Add onions and garlic and sauté 2-3 min., then add carrots and celery and sauté 2-3 min. Add sliced mushrooms and sauté till soft. Stir in tomatoes and herbs, then add wine. Sprinkle roast generously with salt and pepper add to pot. Bring to a boil, then cover and place pot in oven, baking for 2 hrs. Remove meat from pot and slice in 1/4" slices, then return the sliced meat to the pot, covering with sauce and vegetables. Cover and bake for another 1 1/2 hrs.

The Braise is Back: Beer-Braised Poblano Pork

Now, I'm not one to trumpet the end of summer and the beginning of that four-letter word beginning with "f" (and ending with "double toothpicks" for those of you old enough to remember that old saw). But I do appreciate the moderating temperatures during the day and the rapid cooling at night, making pulling up the covers a welcome necessity.

Yes, I'm a native Oregonian. Is it that obvious?

A drizzle of cilantro chimichurri? Sure!

While there's still plenty of grilling weather in the forecast, with salmon and albacore running strong, and tomatoes, peppers and a bounty of other delicious things coming in from local farms (whew!), it's also possible to turn on the stove without the fear of making your home feel like you're living in some hot, humid East Coast city. (No wonder those politicians in DC are so grumpy all the time, huh?)

The other day I'd picked up a pork shoulder at the store, pondering what to do with it when I got home—Chili? Posole? Pulled pork?—and then, while rummaging in the vegetable bin, found several large poblano peppers that had jumped into my farmers' market basket the weekend before. Excellent!

A little chopping, a little sautéing, a can of Hopworks pils from the fridge, and in under half an hour I had a pot of pork bubbling away on the stove. Then two hours later we were sitting down for what I have to say was a spectacular dinner. By the way, the chimichurri came about when during the aforementioned rummaging I ran across a bunch of cilantro that was soon to expire, so whizzed that up in the processor with some lime and garlic and, voilà, instant zhoosh!

Beer-Braised Poblano Pork

4 lbs. pork shoulder, cut in 1” pieces
3 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1 large yellow onion, in 1/2” dice
4 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
3 large poblano peppers, seeded and chopped in 1” pieces
2 serrano peppers, seeded and minced
12 oz. light beer (a Northwest pilsner works nicely)
2 c. chicken stock
2 tsp. dried oregano
2 bay leaves
2 tsp. salt plus more to taste

Heat oil in Dutch oven over medium heat until it shimmers. Add onion and sauté until translucent, then add garlic and peppers and sauté until tender. Add pork, beer, stock oregano, bay leaves and salt. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to simmer and cover. When pork is tender (almost falling apart), taste for salt and serve in bowls with rice or grain and a drizzle of chimichurri (recipe below).

* * *

Cilantro Chimichurri

2 c. cilantro
1/3 c. olive oil
2 large cloves garlic
2 tsp. oregano
1 tsp. red pepper flakes
2 Tbsp. lime juice

Salt to taste

Place all ingredients in food processor or blender and process until smooth.

Spring Lamb Means Get Out the Braising Pot!

We had a writer friend from San Francisco visiting for the weekend, and while we'd made plans to go out for dinner Saturday night—note of thanks to Nancy and Randy at Bar Avignon for a fabulous evening—his flight wasn't getting in until late Friday evening, so I volunteered (make that begged) to make dinner that night. Fortunately for us he's an ominivore, so my suggestion of braised lamb shanks was more than acceptable.

Jeff makes a new friend in Oregon.

The original version of this braised dish was created for a big ol' lamb shoulder by my friend Michel, but there was no reason it couldn't be adapted for lamb shanks, too. It's been known among our circle for being the lamb recipe that converts lamb-haters to lamb-lovers—you know who you are, so don't make me name names—and I've heard reliable reports that it's successfully converted others to the ranks of the lamb-loving, as well.

The lamb itself makes a difference, of course, the fresher and more local the better, and there are several farms in the area that raised sheep on pasture, which are your best bets for good meat of any kind. (See the Oregon Pasture Network Product Guide to find a farmer near you.) But it's my belief that the unusual combination of spices like cardamom and cumin and poblano and red peppers takes it to another level entirely. The lamb can definitely stand up to the strong flavors they impart, and the aroma while its cooking is intoxicating, whetting everyone's appetites in advance of the meal.

Fall-off-the-bone tender, I've served it with polenta made from the coarsely ground Amish Butter corn from Ayers Creek Farm, but this time I decided to try pairing it with the farm's parched green wheat (formerly known as frikeh) simmered until it was tender then sautéed with onions, garlic and carrots. Turned out to be a great idea, since the smoky flavor of the grain complemented the lamb and spices perfectly.

Leftovers are rare, but if that should occur I can highly recommend shredding any remaining meat, adding a cup or two of roasted tomatoes and serving over pasta as a lamb ragu. And a reminder: I always love to hear back from you if you make this dish, especially if you have tweaks to make it better, so please leave feedback in the comments below. Enjoy!

Braised Lamb Shanks with Cardamom and Peppers

This lamb recipe is terrific braised and served the same day, but for a real treat make it a day ahead and put it in the refrigerator overnight. Holding it for a day gives the flavors a chance to meld deliciously, and it's easy to remove the bones and solidified fat before reheating.

4-lbs. lamb shanks (or shoulder roast)
3 Tbsp. olive oil
2 c. chopped onion
1 red bell pepper, coarsely chopped
2 pasilla, ancho or poblano pepper, coarsely chopped
4 cloves garlic, crushed
2 tsp. cardamom pods, crushed, using only the small seeds inside
2 tsp. cumin seeds
1/4 c. dried currants, coarsely chopped
1 c. chicken stock
2 c. roasted tomatoes (approx. one 15-oz. can)
Zest of 1 lemon

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Salt and pepper shanks and set aside.

Heat oil in large braising pot or Dutch overn. Add garlic and onion and sauté until tender. Add peppers and sauté until softened. Add cumin and cardamom seeds to the vegetables and sauté briefly. Add canned tomatoes, stock and currants and stir to combine. Place the shanks in a single layer in the pot, if possible, so they are mostly covered. Cover braising pot and place in middle of preheated oven. Braise for at least 3 hours.

Remove lamb from pot and separate the meat from the bones (bones can be discarded or, preferably, composted). Cover and hold in deep, pre-warmed serving platter or bowl. Skim fat from liquid in pan and bring to boil to reduce slightly. Season to taste with additional salt, if needed, and pour over lamb. Sprinkle with lemon zest and serve.

Find more of Michel's outstanding recipes, including her crab cakes, cherry corn salsa and Napa cabbage slaw.

Craving Carnitas

I'd been jonesing for tacos for days, and just hadn't got around to making them. Then, fortuitously, some friends said they were going to be in the 'hood one evening, which gave me the perfect excuse to try a new method for making carnitas. (And yes, I'm one of those people who tries out new recipes on guests, much to the chagrin of my mother who considered it much too risky.)

I'd already pulled a four-pound pork shoulder out of the freezer, it being a weekend and the perfect time for a nice slow braise on the stove. So I picked up some cotija cheese made by Albany's Ochoa's Queseria, cabbage for slaw, plus an avocado, salsa and tortillas. (I'm a huge fan of the organic tortillas from Three Sisters Nixtamal. It's a local company that makes masa using a traditional process called nixtamalization, where dried corn kernels are soaked in slaked lime, then ground and made into dough.)

Carnitas, which means "little meats," is made by simmering chunks of pork with citrus and spices for several hours until it's tender and on the verge of falling apart. I had some whey left over from making ricotta, so I decided to use it for the braising liquid, since the acids in the whey would help to break down and tenderize the meat. The method I used then calls for shredding the meat, roasting it in the oven (or in a cast iron pan on the grill) until any remaining liquid evaporates and the meat is crispy.

Warming the tortillas on a griddle is quick and easy, though I'm always tempted to pile them with heaps of fixin's, but exercising a teensy bit of restraint is worth the reward of the perfect bite, instead of bursting the taco or losing too much on your plate. Plus it means I can enjoy a few more of those longed-for tacos!

Carnitas

4 lbs. boneless pork shoulder
1 qt. whey, water or stock
1 onion, sliced in half lengthwise, then crosswise into 1/8” slices
8 cloves garlic
2 tsp. oregano
4 bay leaves
2 tsp. ground cumin
1 orange, quartered
1 Tbsp. kosher salt

Put all ingredients into large Dutch oven and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to simmer for 2-3 hours until meat is starting to fall apart and liquid is almost gone. If there is quite a bit of liquid left, remove the meat to a roasting pan, disposing of the orange peel and bay leaves. Bring the liquid in the pot to a boil and reduce until there is less than 1 cup remaining.

While liquid reduces, heat oven to 450°. When liquid has reduced, pour over meat in roasting pan and place in oven for 20-30 minutes or until it starts to brown. Shred any remaining large pieces.

"Hunker Down Eating"

Whether yesterday's windstorm was a blowout or a blowhard (see photo of the toppled tree in Northeast Portland, below), it's just a harbinger of winter weather to come. This recipe from contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food is perfect for cold weather when hardy winter greens like kale and collards are at their best. After the first frost, these plants put out sugars which act as antifreeze and make them sweet and tender when cooked!

During wet and wild weather I want to eat hot, comforting bowls of beans and greens.

Tree toppled in windstorm in Northeast Portland.

If you cook beans a couple of times each week like I do, you'll always have some on hand ready to heat up. Here's how I make the greens.

Basic Braised Greens

I think cavolo nero (aka Tuscan kale) and collard greens taste better than curly kale. My basic approach is to braise them with onion, olive oil, salt and water. The secret ingredient is time; these sturdy greens are best if cooked for at least 45 minutes. More tender greens (chard, spinach, beet, etc) cook more quickly, so they usually just get a quick sauté.

Chop an onion and start cooking it in enough extra virgin olive oil to cover the bottom of your pan (anything with a lid will be fine). While the onion cooks, chiffonade a bunch of greens: Roll several leaves at a time into a tight bundle and cut into quarter-inch slices. Or stack several flat and slice them. I like to cut these ribbons into pieces about 2 inches long for easier eating. It isn’t necessary to cut out the central stalk; you’re going to cook it tender.

Add the greens to the onion along with some salt and at least a cup of water; use more water if you want more pot likker. Cover, reduce heat to simmer, and cook. Check after 20 minutes and add water if needed to keep the bottom of the pot covered (I’ve burned greens more than once; if they're not completely black just say they’re “caramelized"). Let them simmer for at least 45 minutes; longer is okay (but check for water). Drizzle with a bit of fresh extra virgin at the table.

Lamb Raised Right: Braised Lamb with Fava Beans

When I first started this writing gig I had no idea of the opportunities I'd get to meet amazing, caring, thoughtful people who've dedicated their lives to providing their families and communities with food that is, as Slow Food likes to put it, "good, clean and fair." In terms of meat animals like cattle, sheep, pigs and chickens, it means that they've been raised humanely, on pasture, where they can live with other animals, feeling the soil under their feet and the sun on their backs. These farmers feed their animals none of the genetically modified corn and soy that most conventionally raised animals are raised on.

Really, it's exactly the picture of the farm that we all carry around with us from the stories read to us as children.

Les and her dogs at Jo-Le Farms.

Why am I so convinced that pasture-raised meat is better? Well, everyone's heard the phrase "you are what you eat" when it comes to junk food versus healthy foods. But I heard a phrase a few years ago that goes "you are what you eat eats," and it kind of blew my mind. In other words, if the animals we eat have a diet of the food that they are intended to consume—found in healthy pastures—rather than commodity grains laced with antibiotics and chemicals, then it follows that they'll be healthier animals and the meat and milk they provide will be healthier for us to eat.

Ben Meyer butchering lamb.

Not to mention that raising animals on pasture is better for the environment and actually sequesters carbon in the soil rather than contributing to climate change or groundwater pollution from waste products. (Read Nicolette Hahn Niman's Defending Beef: The Case for Sustainable Meat Production for more on the subject.)

And when it comes time to die, the larger animals are either killed in their pastures instantly with a swift shot behind the ear, or trucked a short distance to a humane processing facility where they aren't waiting in fear, listening to the panicked sounds of other animals.

It had been awhile since I'd bought a lamb (really a nearly-year-old sheep) because I hadn't found a farmer nearby who had pasture-raised sheep available. But when I visited my friends Kendra and Ivan at Shimanek Bridge Farm, who raise cattle, pigs, chickens and turkeys on pasture, they introduced me to their neighbors, Les Carter and her husband Jon of Jo-Le Farms, who raise—get this—pastured sheep!

Meat from one lamb.

Les mentioned that they'd be slaughtering a few of their sheep in the near future, and I nearly jumped into her arms. She promised to call when it was time, and a couple of weeks later she contacted me to let me know when they'd be available. I then called my friend Ben Meyer of Old Salt Marketplace to see if he'd help me butcher it, a process I prefer because I get to decide whether I get chops versus racks and bone-in or boneless roasts.

Animals like goats and lambs are generally small enough to carry in the back of my Mini Clubman, Chili, so I pulled up in front of Ben's place and he graciously carried it inside for me. An hour or so later I walked out with a cooler-full of cut and wrapped chops, ribs, shanks and roasts, and I saved out a big bone-in shoulder roast for our first lamb dinner in some time.

Braised lamb with favas.

Braised lamb is the easily one of my favorite ways to cook and eat a lamb roast, though I've had several grilled boneless leg roasts that run a close second. Braising is also one of the easiest methods for cooking lamb, since all you have to do is add some vegetables and liquid to the lamb in a pot and cover it for two or three hours in the oven. The lamb slowly melts into fall-off-the-bone tender chunks, the liquid and meat juices meld into gravy and the vegetables and any herbs give it a marvelous depth. I added a pound of fava beans from Ayers Creek Farm, a cup or so of tomatoes I'd just roasted, and that night we sat down to our first lamb dinner in quite some time.

And now there are so many more lamby meals to look forward to this winter, thanks to the hard work of Les and Jon. I can't wait!

Braised Lamb with Fava Beans

1 lb. fava beans, soaked overnight
4-5 lb. bone-in lamb shoulder
3 Tbsp. olive oil
1 yellow onion, roughly chopped
3 large carrots, quartered and cut crosswise in 1/2" pieces
3 large cloves garlic, smashed
3 large bay leaves
5 sprigs of fresh thyme or oregano
6 c. chicken or lamb stock
1 Tbsp. salt plus more to taste

Preheat oven to 375°.

Heat olive oil in large Dutch oven over medium-high heat until it shimmers. Add onion and sauté, stirring occasionally, until it is tender. Add carrots and garlic and sauté until tender. Add lamb, bay leaves, herbs, salt, fava beans and stock. Cover and place in oven. Check every half hour or so to make sure there is still liquid; if it has all been absorbed, add water or stock. Braise for 2-3 hours until meat is ready to fall off the bone.

Remove meat, bay leaves and any stems from herb sprigs. Cut or pull the meat off the bones and chop into serving-sized pieces. Place in serving bowl and ladle beans, vegetables and gravy over it. Serve with hunks of artisan bread for sopping up the juices.

Check here for more recipes for lamb, then read farmer Les's recipes.

Braising Weather: A Pot of Beans

It's officially fall. The ash trees surrounding our house are turning golden, coloring the light that spills in the kitchen windows. The leaves that have fallen are dry and crispy, crunching under the feet of the neighborhood children walking to school. The urge to kick through the drifts of leaves on the parking strip is almost impossible to resist, and I can hear that most autumnal of sounds as the kids (and sometimes their parents) succumb to their siren song.

Willowood Farm Rockwell beans.

Nighttime temperatures are getting down into the 40s, requiring the addition of thick comforters to the beds, and mornings are brisk, with just enough of a chill to require pulling on a fleece jacket to walk the dogs first thing. The days warm up to the 70s by noon, and a glass of wine on the porch of an evening as the sun sets isn't out of the question just yet, warmth-wise.

This is what my parents used to call nigh-perfect Indian summer weather in the Northwest, though I'm beginning to think of it more and more as the onset of braising weather, time to pull out the Dutch oven for the season of low and slow-cooked meats and vegetables.

The finished beans.

This year's crop of dried beans have begun showing up at the farmers' markets, and I was recently gifted some Rockwell beans from Willowood Farm on Washington's Whidbey Island. This variety was originally grown by an island pioneer, Elisha Rockwell, in the late 1800s, and it was brought back into production recently by farmer Georgie Smith when she took over the land her family had been farming on Ebey's Prairie since the 1890s.

Beans don't need much besides water, onions and garlic to make a mighty tasty main course, served with a hunk of hearty bread and maybe a drizzle of olive oil, but I happened to have a pig trotter (top photo) from the Square Peg Farm pig I'd butchered last winter. Beans and pork are a natural pairing, and the fattier the cut of pig the better. Trotters are almost all fat, and over several hours it gave a porky unctuousness to the pot. A half pound of bacon works well, too, and can be chopped or shredded before or after braising. Even a pound of pork shoulder will do its work on the beans, and can be shredded afterwards to make a beany, porky chili.

Regardless of how you decide to cook them, grab a few different kinds of beans from your local farmers' market and take them for a spin in a pot. I guarantee you'll find one (or more) you'll love, not to mention they'll warm up your family's bellies on these crisp fall nights.

Basic Braised Beans

1 lb. dried beans
3 Tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped roughly
3 cloves garlic, chopped fine
Water
1 Tbsp. salt, plus more to taste

Optional:
3 bay leaves
Pork (pig trotter, 1/2 lb. bacon, 1 lb. pork shoulder)

Depending on the type of bean, you may need to soak them overnight in water (cover by 2"). Check with the farmer or follow directions if they're packaged. Drain prior to cooking.

Preheat oven to 300°.

On top of stove over medium heat, add oil to pot and heat until it shimmers. Add onion and sauté until tender, then add garlic, sautéing briefly until it's fragrant but not browned. Add drained beans and cover with fresh water by 1". Add salt and stir briefly. Add bay leaves and pork if using.

When it comes to a simmer, cover the pot and put it in the oven for at least four hours or until beans are tender and meat (if used) is falling apart. Check occasionally and add water to cover if the beans have absorbed it all (the amount of water needed will vary with the type of beans and if they have been presoaked). If meat has been used, remove it to a cutting board and chop or shred it, then add it back to the beans.

This can also be done on top of the stove. Simply keep the beans on a low simmer, covered, and check occasionally to make sure all the liquid hasn't absorbed.

More bean recipes: Baked Beans Italian Style, Backyard Barbecue Beans, Mexican-Style Black Bean and Greens Soup.

Budget Cuts: Braised Beef Neck Roast

They used to be called "butcher's cuts" or "butcher's favorites" because they were the unglamorous, but often very tasty, cuts of meat that wouldn't sell in the case and that the butcher would take home to feed his family. Steaks, chops and big roasts were the grill-friendly, oven roast-able and far prettier cuts. Stew meat, fatty beef chuck or pork shoulder roasts were considered the bottom of the barrel, needing long, slow braising and mostly used to make chili or stews of various kinds.

Searing the neck roast.

Back in the day you'd never see flank steak, hanger steak, bavette or skirt steak in the meat case at the supermarket. But if you did, they'd be dirt cheap…and I mean a couple of dollars a pound at most. Sometime in the late 90s the meat industry realized that these cuts might be worth some money and started marketing them to chefs. A case in point was the "Denver steak" that, instead of being ground into hamburger and sold for $2.99 a pound, could be cooked like a steak and served to a restaurant patron for many times more. (See "Slicing Meat So You Pay More.")

So it is with some hesitation that I share my latest find, lest it become the next victim of the Denver steak syndrome.

Ready to go in the oven.

Neck meat, whether from a pig, lamb or cow, could be called the latest butcher's cut to garner space on restaurant menus. Sometimes lumped in with offal or thrown out as scrap, this bony cut has plenty of meat on it and becomes shreddy and tender with long, slow cooking. I first saw it a couple of months ago in the meat case at Old Salt Marketplace, a beautifully aged piece of grass-fed beef from Hawley Ranch that was priced at—get this—five bucks a pound.

Yes, I gasped, too.

Five hours later, bones removed…perfect!

Recently I brought home a four-pound hunk of neck, put it in the oven with a simple braising sauce and pulled it out five hours later—it could have been pulled out at three, but I wanted it at that seriously falling-apart stage—and served it to some pretty impressed guests. And there was enough left over to mix in with some pasta later in the week.

But please, could you do me a favor and keep this one quiet?

Braised Beef Neck Roast

3 Tbsp. vegetable oil
Salt and pepper
4 lbs. beef neck, bone in
1 onion, roughly chopped
4 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1 Tbsp. pimenton dulce or piment d'Espelette
1 Tbsp. dried oregano
1 tsp. dried basil
1/2 tsp. dried thyme
2 c. red wine
3 c. roasted or canned tomatoes
A dozen or so oil-cured olives
2 bay leaves

Preheat oven to 325°.

Generously salt and pepper roast on all sides. Heat oil in Dutch oven over medium-high heat until it shimmers. Add roast and sear well on all surfaces. Remove from pan.

Add onions and garlic to fat in pan and sauté over medium heat until translucent, scraping up any browned bits from meat. Add pimenton and dried spices and stir into onions, then stir in wine, tomatoes, olives and bay leaves. Bring to a simmer and return the roast to the pan. Bring to a simmer, cover tightly and transfer to the oven. Roast for 3 to 5 hours, turning the roast every hour to make sure all sides are evenly cooked (if the roast is completely submerged in the braising liquid, don't worry about this step).

When the roast is done, you can skim off the fat floating on the surface with a spoon (optional). Tear off the meat remaining on the bone and remove the bones and the bay leaves from the liquid. Chop any large pieces of meat into smaller chunks and serve. Goes well with roasted root vegetables, sautéed greens and/or polenta. I also made a quick gremolata of the carrot greens processed with some garlic, lemon peel, salt and olive oil.

Praising the Braise: Short Ribs Excel

You don't need a spreadsheet to tell you that short ribs are the pinnacle of what braised meat should be. All you have to do is walk into a kitchen, your very own or, lucky you, that of someone who's invited you to dinner, the air thick with the rich aroma of a long-simmered sauce, slightly caramelized on the edges of the pot where the liquid has reduced down to its exquisite essence.

I'd clutched my memories of the beauty of this past summer's astonishing weather close to my heart, trying to prolong the warmth and sun, but eventually they simply faded in my arms and I had to admit it was, indeed, late fall at last. But remorse at this loss quickly turned to thoughts of the quarts and quarts of roasted tomatoes in my freezer, each one a condensation of that sensational weather waiting to be revived.

So please bear with me as I make my way through my stash, embracing the joys of braising season, knowing that summer will eventually come around again.

Braised Short Ribs

Salt
1 c. flour
3 Tbsp. olive oil
8 short ribs, about 2 1/2-3 lbs.
2 med. onions, chopped
5 cloves garlic, chopped
1 Tbsp. oregano
12 oil-cured olives, pitted and halved
3 bay leaves
1 Tbsp. paprika or Spanish smoked paprika
Large pinch saffron
1 tsp. salt
1 qt. roasted tomatoes
1 c. red wine

Preheat oven to 350°.

Remove short ribs from refrigerator and bring to room temperature. Salt short ribs on all sides. Put flour in gallon zip-lock bag (or small paper bag). Place salted short ribs, two at a time, into bag and shake to cover with flour, removing them to a platter as you do so.

Heat oil in large Dutch oven. Add short ribs and brown on all sides. Remove to platter. Add onions to oil in pan, scraping up any browned bits in the bottom of the pan. Sauté till translucent. Add garlic and sauté briefly. Place pinch of saffron and salt in mortar and pestle and grind into powder. Add saffron-salt mixture, oregano and paprika and stir. Add olives, bay leaves, tomatoes and wine and bring to a simmer. Add short ribs back to pan. Cover and place in oven and braise for 2-3 hrs.

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.

Impromptu: Pork Tacos At Our House!

The plan had been in place for weeks, and we were looking forward to having a Saturday night dinner on the deck at the home of good friends. We'd even been given the menu, the better to whet our appetites in advance of the evening: cocktails and tomato-basil bruschetta to start, then grilled pork ribs, corn salad and the hostess's gramma's green beans. Boysenberry pie for dessert.

Yeah, we were drooling, too.

Pork before.

Saturday morning dawned warm and sunny, with the promise of a beautiful, not-too-warm Portland evening for the dinner. Then around mid-morning we got a call. A painting project had run over schedule, an unexpected memorial service had come up for that afternoon. Could we reschedule the deck dinner and go out instead? Maybe margaritas and Mexican at a place with outdoor seating?

Pork after.

Though there are several great places in town that fit that bill, I'd really been looking forward to spending time with our friends without the distractions and constraints of a restaurant meal. Why not just change locations and come over to our house? Dave's margaritas are as good, if not better, than any I've had out and, sticking with the Mexican theme, I could throw some pork on to braise for tacos and we could pot luck the condiments.

After hanging up I looked around, realizing the house was a complete shambles. Ack! Good thing we were eating outside…and we could clean up enough that, in the dim evening light, it might not look too awful.

Ready to go…take a seat!

On the way to the store I ran into my neighbor Susana, who waxed poetic about the dinner she'd made the night before featuring short ribs braised in apricots and cherries. We agreed it would be perfect for the pulled pork I needed for the tacos so, armed with her inspiration, I bought the necessary ingredients, came home, threw it all together and three hours later had the most luscious pulled pork ever.

And our dinner that evening? Perfection…just like we'd planned it all along.

Pork Tacos with Apricot, Cherry and White Wine Pulled Pork

For the pulled pork:
2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1-2 medium yellow onions, chopped fine
3 large cloves garlic
2 c. cherries, pitted and halved (I used yellow Rainiers)
2 c. apricots, pitted and quartered
5 lbs. pork shoulder, cut into large chunks
2 1/2 c. dry white wine (I used a dry Pinot Grigio)
3 bay leaves
Salt and pepper to taste

For the tacos:
Corn tortillas (order them in advance from Por Que No…awesome!)
Cabbage slaw with lime vinaigrette
Guacamole
Corn or cherry salsa
Tomato salsa
Cotilla cheese, crumbled
Sour cream
Limes, quartered
Assorted bottled chile sauces

Preheat oven to 325°.

Heat the oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat. When it shimmers, add onions and garlic and sauté till translucent. Add remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Cover and place pot in oven for 3 hours until pork is falling apart.

Remove pot from oven, and transfer the chunks of pork to a large platter, leaving cooking liquid in pot. Bring liquid in pot to a boil, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking, and reduce until most of liquid has evaporated and it is a syrupy consistency. While liquid is reducing, smash pork with back of spoon or pull apart with a fork. When liquid in pot has finished reducing, add pork back to pot and combine.

Serve with condiments.

This pulled pork would be amazing with any recipe calling for pulled pork, and is infinitely variable with any seasonal fruit…think plums, peaches, apples, etc. You could also add whole chiles like ancho or poblano to give it some heat.

Italian for Cabbage

I love contributor Jim Dixon's recipes because they're so simple, with no complicated acrobatics required to accomplish delicious results. And his last word says it all: Eat.

I had this my friend Marco’s restaurant, Basta's Trattoria, a few days ago; I’d forgotten how good it tastes. Maybe my love of green cabbage has been getting in the way. Marco uses bacon and caraway, so I did, too.

Braised Red Cabbage

Finely chop a slice of bacon or two, and cook in a couple of tablespoons of water until the water’s gone. Cook it a bit longer until it starts to brown, then add a chopped shallot. Cook a few more minutes, then add a head of red cabbage, chopped fairly small. Add a tablespoon or more of caraway seeds.

Pour in a generous splash (maybe half a cup) or Katz late harvest zinfandel vinegar. Cover, reduce heat to a simmer, and cook for at least 45 minutes. Check a couple of times to make sure there’s a bit of liquid in the pan (add a splash of water if needed). Eat.

Budget Cuts: The Long and the Short

I have lots of pet theories (no pun intended). One is that my cat can read my mind, because whenever it's time to go to the vet she makes herself scarce. Even before I get out the carrier, she wriggles her little self into a crack or crevice, remaining completely undetectable until it's well past our appointment time.

Another theory has to do with cheap cuts of meat. Usually they're the most flavorful, but sometimes not the most attractive. Think chuck roast or shanks versus steaks or loin roasts. Flank steaks and hanger steaks used to fit in that category, but then they got "discovered" as new items for the home grill and prices haven't come down since.

The cuts that require hours of braising to achieve fall-apart tenderness, as opposed to those that can be quickly grilled and served, seem to be the ones that stay in the budget category. Again, chuck roast, shoulder roast and shanks come to mind. As do beef short ribs, those squarish chunks of layered fat and meat, which are at their best when cooked low and slow. So when I saw them on sale recently in the meat case at my local market, I had to grab a few pounds.

The recipe below would be terrific simmered all day in a slow cooker, but works perfectly well started early in the evening and braised for a couple of hours. Even better, buying, as I did, a little more than you need makes a fabulous fit-for-company dinner with enough left over to shred and mix with pasta later in the week.

I love these served alongside polenta, and the gremolata is definitely optional. A shower of fresh horseradish grated over the top just before serving is really all you need.

Brasato Al Barolo (Braised Short Ribs)
Adapted from Mario Batali's The Babbo Cookbook

For the brasato:
1/4 c. extra virgin olive oil
4 lbs. beef short ribs (or 6 medium-sized bone-in ribs)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
1 onion, roughly chopped
2 celery stalks, roughly chopped
5 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
2 c. full-bodied red wine
1 16-oz. can of peeled tomatoes, crushed by hand with their juices (2 c.)
1 c. beef stock (or chicken stock)
1 1/2 Tbsp. fresh thyme leaves or 2 tsp. dried
1 1/2 Tbsp. fresh rosemary leaves, chopped fine, or 2 tsp. dried
2 Tbsp. fresh oregano leaves, chopped, or 2 tsp. dried

For the gremolata:
Leaves from 1 bunch of flat leaf parsley
Zest of two lemons, cut into julienne strip
1/4 lb. fresh horseradish, grated

Preheat oven to 375°.

In a large, heavy-bottomed skillet or Dutch oven, heat the olive oil over high heat until smoking. Season the ribs with salt and pepper and cook them over high heat until deep brown all on sides, about 15 minutes total.
 Remove the short ribs to a plate and set aside. Add the carrots, onion, celery and garlic to the pan and cook over high heat until browned and softened, about 4 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and stir in the red wine, tomatoes and juices, stock and herbs, scraping the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon to dislodge the brown bits. Bring the mixture to a boil and return the short ribs to the pan. Cover and place in the oven. Cook for 2 hours, or until the meat is very tender and literally falling off the bones.

To make the gremolata: 
In a small bowl, combine the parsley, lemon zest and horseradish and toss loosely by hand. Place one short rib in each bowl, top with a little of the pan juices and a handful of the gremolata and serve immediately.

Getting a Head

When someone drops an opportunity in my lap, I grab it. Especially if it involves pork products.

So when my friend (and editor) Peter Szymczak of NW Palate magazine said he was testing a recipe for a pork terrine that was going to run in the next issue, and that it would involve cooking and stripping a pig's head, I not-so-subtly volunteered to help. He graciously accepted, saying the split-down-the-middle head would be brined for a day, then go into the oven to braise for 12 hours in a broth of wine, vegetables and water.

On the pretext of checking the galleys of the article on Big Table Farm that I wrote for the same issue, and to check out the redesign of the magazine (a big, and welcome, change), I dropped in about halfway through the braise. The head itself, which I named Max (after Max Headroom), was still intact (top photo and left) but on its way to melting into a tender, falling-off-the- bone mass of porky goodness.

And sure enough, when I returned that evening, it had all decomposed into a somewhat recognizable but now barely held together form (right). Which made it relatively easy to pull out the bones, cartilage and anything resembling glands and leaving the meat, skin and fat to cool in a pan till we could shred it by hand.

Traditionally, scrapple is pork combined with cornmeal, then fried before serving, and this recipe from Chef Robert Belcham, owner of Refuel and Campagnolo restaurants in Vancouver, B.C., called for making a small batch of polenta and mixing it into the pork with herbs. We then packed it into terrines, and set it in the fridge under weights to compress. Can't wait to slice into it!

Look for the recipe along with an interview with Chef Belcham in the Sept./Oct. issue of NW Palate magazine, as well as my article on Clare Carver and Brian Marcy of Big Table Farm. And get a load of the redesign of the magazine to boot! Subscribe online: 1 year/6 issues for $15; 2 years/12 issues for $27. Cheap!

To see the reincarnation of Max in terrine form, see Getting a Head: The Eating.

The Best He's Ever Had: Pot Roast

You can't ask for a better compliment when friends come over for dinner. Not once, not twice but three times during the evening our friend, who was here with his lovely wife, said that my pot roast was the best he's ever had.

Now, you could say that he was just being polite. Or that we had plied them with enough of Dave's most excellent cocktails and some mighty fine wine (a '99 Mas de Chimeres from the Languedoc region of France) that it was the alcohol doing the talking. But, since he wasn't weaving around the room and his diction was (as usual) flawless, I chose to believe that his compliment was sincere and that his request for the recipe was genuine.

So, without further ado, except to note that the polenta made from Roy's Calais Flint corn grits was freaking awesome, here's the recipe:

GoodStuffNW Pot Roast Bourguignon

This is extremely easy to make, but you'll need to get it in the oven four hours before dinner or make it the day before. Cutting back on the time in the oven makes for a less than stellar texture. 'Nuff said.
4 slices bacon, cut in 1/4" pieces
1 3-5 lb. piece of fine-grain roast like sirloin tip or similar cut, not chuck
Salt and pepper
1 large onion, chopped fine
4 cloves garlic, chopped fine
2 ribs celery, chopped fine
4 carrots, sliced in rounds
1 lb. mushrooms, sliced
1 Tbsp. basil
1 tsp. thyme
2 sprigs rosemary
1 6-oz. can tomato paste
2 c. beef stock
2 c. red wine

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Put bacon in a large braising pot that can go in the oven and fry till fat is rendered. Remove bacon, then add meat to pot and brown on all sides, sprinkling generously with salt and pepper. Remove to platter. Add onions and garlic and saute 2-3 min., then add carrots and celery and saute 2-3 min. Add sliced mushrooms and saute till soft. Stir in tomato paste and herbs, then add stock and wine. Bring to a boil, then take off heat and place meat and bacon in pot. Cover and place pot in oven, baking for 2 hrs. Remove meat from pot and slice in 1/4" slices, then return the sliced meat to the pot, covering with sauce and vegetables. Cover and bake for another 1 1/2 hrs.

Fall Has Fell: Braised Lamb

My writer friend Michel and I used to walk together before she got a real job. One day I went over to pick her up for our regular constitutional and, on opening her front door, was bowled over by the amazingly sensuous aroma coming from her kitchen. Now, this woman was a professional cook in a previous life and has major chops with a Viking. (Amazingly, her husband doesn't seem to mind!)

I begged her to give me the recipe, and the other night I made it using a lamb shoulder from our lamb share. Again, the aroma was a knockout and it killed with its huge flavor and richness, especially because it was made with homegrown tomatoes and peppers. All that's required to make it a dinner party staple is a simple green salad and a side of polenta. I guarantee your friends and family will be fighting over who gets the last bits.

Michel's Braised Lamb Shoulder

1 lamb shoulder roast
1 med. onion, coarsely chopped
1 med. red bell pepper, coarsely chopped
1 pasilla, ancho or poblano pepper, coarsely chopped
4 cloves garlic, sliced
2 tsp. whole cardamom seeds
2 tsp. cumin seeds
1/2 c. prunes
1 c. chicken stock
15 oz. can diced tomatoes
Zest of 1 lemon

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

In medium hot braising pot, brown shoulder in olive ol; salt and pepper each side. After first side of lamb is browned, add cumin and cardamom seeds to the oil around the lamb and stir to toast. Add garlic and onion, stir until golden. Add peppers and stir until softened. Add canned tomatoes, stock and prunes and stir. Cover braising pot and place in middle of preheated oven. Simmer in oven at least 3 hours.

Remove lamb from pot. Cover and hold on heated platter. Skim fat from liquid in pan and bring to boil to reduce. Season to taste and pour over lamb.