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.

Aviary Takes Flight

I could start this off with some reference to the now ubiquitous quote from Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein's series, Portlandia, about the city's fascination with placing birds on things, but then I'd actually have to type the phrase and that would make me cringe. So to avoid that unpleasantness, I'll try something else.

How about this:

Fusion is a term that, when I hear it used in conjunction with food, makes me want to scream, "Run away!" Much like the recent fascination with molecular gastronomy, it conjures images of a three-ring circus with people in chef's coats jumping through hoops, juggling bowling pins and spinning plates to the tune of Khachaturian's "Sabre Dance." In other words, making the acts of cooking and eating more about performance and technical prowess than doing justice to the flavors found in the ingredients themselves.

Dungeness crab with winter melon.

So when I heard Aviary, a new restaurant on Alberta Avenue, described as "an innovative East-meets-West blend," I immediately went into "uh-oh" mode. Another warning bell sounded when I read that it featured not one but three chef-owners, Sarah Pliner, Jasper Shen and Katherine (Kat) Whitehead. Huh? I thought there was a "one ego per kitchen" rule. Was this a train wreck in the making?

Than last week a bunch of the city's restaurants got together for a "Dine Out for Japan Relief" benefit. Since Dave had a friend who was gaga about the place and he was a little embarrassed to admit that his foodie blogger wife hadn't been there yet, we decided to rectify the situation and head over despite my nervousness. After all, it was for charity, right?

The lighting at the table was too dark for decent photos, so forgive the lack of visuals, but the flavors and combinations we found on our plates were vivid and brilliantly creative. Organized into three categories, small plates, seasonal and larger plates, the idea is to mix and match them, ideally sharing plates among the diners at the table. We opted to be a little more traditional and ordered a few to share, then we each ordered our own entrées with the usual "bites" privilege in force.

Oxtail croquettes with tomato jam.

The Dungeness crab with winter melon and mentaiko was a personal revelation, since I'd never tasted crab and sweet green melon together. (Yet another idea I'm going to steal for future use.) When the oxtail croquettes came, they seemed a little too darling at first, but the one-bite bits exploded with a powerful meatiness in my mouth and I raised the white flag as any misgivings I'd brought with me vanished. The Asian pear and celery root salad with arugula, watermelon radish and candied cumin was genius, the sweetness and crunch of the components held together by the lacing of cumin.

My braised beef cheek with celery root, blood orange and gingko nuts was piled on a smear of creamy fennel purée, and I'm pretty sure that even Mario's dad Armandino wouldn't have turned up his salumi-loving nose at this dish with its fall-apart tender meat spiked with the tartness of the blood orange sections.

Dave was brave and ordered the crispy pig ear that was described as being done paella-style and, indeed, it did come in a small paella pan, but you can forget any Spanish inflections after that. The chunks of porky ear cracklings were essentially set on top of a creamy coconut milk rice that had been topped with a mix of braised greens, Chinese sausage and avocado. The flavor was definitely Asian-inspired, but again a combination that I'd never experienced (the "bites" rule, remember?).

It all just taught me that my prejudices are just that, and that sometimes you need to get over yourself. Hear that, you molecular gastronomists out there? (Hm…obviously I still have some work to do.)

Details: Aviary, 1733 NE Alberta St. 503-287-2400.

It's-a Me...Mario!

Unlike his cheery, black-mustachioed video-game brother, Mario Batali is battling a very bad image as presented in Heat: An Amateur's Adventures as Kitchen Slave, Line Cook, Pasta-Maker, and Apprentice to a Dante-Quoting Butcher in Tuscany by Bill Buford. Apparently Batali, according to Buford, is an insecure, over-testosteroned p---k who shoves food in his kitchen staff's mouths and forces them to repeat his words that it's what America is craving. Nice guy.

In a recent New York Times article, writer Julie Moskin compared a risotto made with a $70 Barolo (as called for in Mario's recipe) with one made from a bottle of Charles Shaw Cabernet Sauvignon (closer to what Mario actually uses in his restaurant). In a blind tasting by the NYT dining staff, the Charles Shaw won hands down. The Barolo version was described as "'least flavorful,' 'sharp edges' and 'sour.'"

I decided to try this experiment in our own GoodStuffNW test kitchen, using a cup of 2004 Mas Donis "Montsant" as a substitute for the Barolo and my two faithful test kitchen staffers as judges. Again, the cheaper wine was judged as "great" and "really great." 'Nuff said. You can download a version of the NY Times recipe here and try it in your own test kitchen.