Remember when I started a dumb little cooking newsletter?
Way back in Lockdown One?
Yeah, me neither. Honestly the whole of 2020 is sort of a wine-stained blur. Back just before we realised COVID-19 was a Real Thing people were speculating on why there was no Spanish Flu literature to speak of, and a very clever mate of mine solved that within weeks: a pandemic is simply too BORING to write about.
I stopped writing about food because I was simply too depressed and apathetic and any spare motivation to write had to be saved for my Masters thesis. But I’ve finished that now and I am once again bored out of my mind, so here are some things I cooked over the weekend.
Both of these recipes are adapted from their NYT Cooking equivalents but I have mixed my labour with them and thus I give them to you now.
Bœuf Bourguignon
Much of the motivation to cook and hence write about this is to use the word bœuf. Haha. Bœuf. The other motivation was that on Wednesday last week I bought a 1.5kg rump cap and as I was about to put it in the oven to roast, I dropped a Le Creuset lid onto the interior glass of my oven. The glass shattered quite comprehensively and my replacement glass has not yet arrived, and the announcement of Lockdown Six ruined my existing dinner plans.
Here’s the original recipe, and below is what I did. There are three distinct phases to consider. Also you can use whatever beef – chuck is actually ideal. And when I say ‘whatever beef’ don’t be an idiot and use fillet.
Phase 1
150 g guanciale, chopped into lardons
1.5 kg beef, trimmed cut into large dice
Salt and pepper
2 small onions, diced
1 carrot, diced
4 garlic cloves, minced
2-3 cloves of black garlic OR 2 tsp tomato paste
2 bay leaves
1 tbsp thyme leaves (does anyone measure this; please don’t)
750 ml red wine
You’ll need to put your meat chunks in a bowl with a nice big sprinkle of salt and pepper. Leave them off to the side while you add the guanciale to a decent-sized dutch oven over a high heat. Don’t have guanciale? I used it because it was in my fridge. You can use pancetta or fatty bacon. Some of the fat will render and some of it will become delicious and crispy. Once this has occurred scoop out the crispy bits, put them aside, and add some of the beef chunks into the rendered fat. Do NOT crowd them! We will do this in batches!
If you’re anything like me, you would’ve appreciated the advice to turn your exhaust fan on about four sentences ago.
Brown all your meat. Again, I am asking you, please don’t attempt this all at once because you’ll fuck it all up. Meat needs space to successfully brown in the presence of fat. You can add each batch to the crispy guanciale.
Turn the heat down so you don’t burn everything and add your onion and carrot. Cook until it’s soft. I used black garlic here because I was out of tomato paste, but you just want something that adds that umami depth – I suppose you could try anchovies or even miso at a pinch but you probably have tomato paste. Stir, add bay leaves and thyme, then add the whole bottle of wine.
I’m going to pause here to tell you something that should be self-evident. If you wouldn’t drink it, don’t put it in your bourguignon. The key ingredients here are wine and beef, as per the name, and while shit cuts of meat become delicious with lengthy cooking, wine does not. It doesn’t have to be expensive; it just has to be something you wouldn’t be ashamed of serving to a date.
Once the wine’s in and you’ve brought it to simmering point, pop the lid on, turn the heat right down (if your oven isn’t full of glass it could go in there), and go about your business for an hour or so. Maybe drink some wine?
Phase 2
3 carrots, cut into chunks
4 small onions (very small!), cut into quarters
1 bag of mushrooms (I don’t know how many this is just get as many as fit in one of those little paper bags), cut into quarters
I like carrots and also I had them in the fridge. With the guanciale and the spare kilo and a half of rump. You don’t have to put them in I guess but I think they are nice. Put all of these vegetables into your dutch oven, give it a stir and wander away for another half an hour to an hour.
Time is a construct, free yourself from it, go by the vibe: ideally when you put the additional vegetables in the meat will be well on the way to tender, and you want to strike a balance between cooking the vegetables so the carrots remain solid, but the onions are cooked through and soft. The mushrooms just do their thing, don’t worry about them.
Phase 3
4 medium potatoes, peeled and quartered
100 g butter
Salt
Look, you’ll want some mashed potatoes with this. You’ve come this far. Boil your potatoes and mash them with salt and butter.
Now. A note. The potatoes will serve 3-4 but you are likely going to have heaps of leftover bourguignon. Hopefully you read recipes before starting them lmao. If you don’t though, there is an excellent solution: make pies. Leftover bourguignon keeps a couple of days in the fridge and it also freezes well. If you portion it into ramekins you are basically one square of puff pastry and 30-45 minutes in the oven away from a pot pie at any given time.
To Serve
Mashed potato goes in the bowl, bourguignon goes over the potato, maybe a little chopped parsley on top. Yum. It would be a real waste not to drink a nice Bordeaux with dinner.
Penne alla vodka
This is far less involved. Serves four with ease.
1 large onion, diced
4 garlic cloves, diced
Olive oil
A pinch of chilli flakes
250 ml vodka
2 tbsp tomato paste (I guess? I just use what feels right)
400 g tin of tomatoes (I like mine whole but it’s not required)
150 ml cream
500 g penne
Salt
Pepper
A handful of grated parmesan or pecorino
A handful of chopped parsley
I am not usually a cream-based pasta kinda gal, but there is absolutely something alchemic about the combination of vodka, cream and tomatoes. My husband on the other hand LOVES a creamy pasta and regretted not ordering the tortiglioni with vodka sauce at Capitano last week when we could still eat out, so I made this to cheer him up.
Slug some olive oil into a nice big pan and add the onion and garlic over a medium heat. Cook for a few minutes until it’s softened and translucent but do not let it brown. Add some chilli flakes (you won’t notice it at the end but I think it makes a difference), add your vodka and let it reduce. Add the tomato paste, the tin of tomatoes, and maybe like half a tin of water? Get it simmering, add some salt and pepper and turn it right down.
Bring a large pot of water to the boil while you wait for the tomatoes to thicken.
You don’t want to put the penne on until your tomatoes are at a pleasing consistency. Just before you do, add the cream. Now, another little tip from me. If you read recipes on the internet they are written by Americans and they ask for less vodka and more cream than I am recommending here. This is seppo nonsense, and likely protestant nonsense as well. 150 ml is on the upper end of cream you’ll want to add, if you reckon you’re shy of 2 tbsp of tomato paste you’ll probably want to add less.
Another note. The NYT Cooking recipe told me the sauce should be rust-coloured. This is more nonsense. You’re trying to achieve something darker than a lobster bisque and lighter than a Tuscan farmhouse in summer. That’s right bitch, start over-analysing shades of pinky-red, what else are you going to do.
Having consulted your Pantone chart, please feel free to put your penne on and cook according to instructions. I like to loosen up the tomato sauce with a little splash of starchy pasta water, which also helps with general adherence sauce adherence. When you judge the consistency to be correct, take it off the heat and add your cheese.
A confession: I couldn’t be bothered looking for pecorino or parmesan in my fridge. I feel it’s in there, but also maybe not. I did find some comte, it was fine whatever who cares.
Drain your pasta, add it to the sauce, stir, add some parsley, stir, serve.
