Ever made a dish intending it to turn out one way and have it turn into something else?
Last Saturday, spring was officially here, but winter decided to remind us that it was not yet dead, so I wanted to eat something warm, filling and comforting. I had retrieved a piece of chuck roast from the freezer the previous day. Half of it made a fine beef stew a month or so before, and I was determined to make a pot roast from the rest of it.
Oddly, I’d never made one before. Plenty of beef stews, the odd beef bourguignon, but never a pot roast. I’d eaten it frequently as a kid, often served with mashed potatoes and green beans. It seemed a perfect remedy to a cold, wet day. It’s the sort of thing that, after 30 minutes’ work, you can walk away from and let time do the rest, while the oven warms the kitchen and the tempting smells fill the house.
I figured I knew the basics—use the correct cooking method (a low, slow braise), and an appropriate cut of meat. Chuck is perfect. It contains a lot of collagen in the connective tissue which, when treated right, slowly melts and tenderizes the tough meat and produces a silken sauce.
I checked three cookbooks for tips—Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything, the new Gourmet magazine cookbook (whose name I forget, though it is very good and comprehensive, and surprisingly innovative), and my large Cooks Illustrated book. Certainly Cooks does the most thorough research, and I noted their cooking temperatures and times. Other than that, I went my own way with the recipe, which essentially involves sweating some chopped aromatic vegetables, browning some meat, adding liquid, and walking away to play guitar or read while the alchemy occurs.
Along the way, I hit upon an interesting technique. As Susan and I were helping a friend move at noon, I made the dish in two stages, and it produced a very flavorful dish. In the morning I sweated the vegetables, browned the meat, and deglazed the pan with a little red wine. All these ingredients sat together for a few hours, producing an intense marinade while we helped Steve move his (thankfully few) possessions. Later, I added some liquid and let the oven do the rest of the work.
Along the way I thought back to my mother’s pot roast. Did it contain tomatoes? I remember a braised dish with beef and tomatoes—was I confusing that with her pot roast, or were they one and the same? While none of the recipes I reviewed contained them, I had half a can of leftover tomatoes and decided to use them, along with some fresh chicken stock, as the braising liquid. A fateful decision. It resulted in a completely different dish.
Recipe:
Chop up a couple strips of bacon and sauté them in a pan large enough to hold your intended roast.
While that’s crisping up and releasing its wonderful fat, chop up a carrot, a medium onion, and a half stalk of celery. (I like to chop the carrot fairly finely, as it cooks more quickly. I cut the carrot into two inch lengths, then in half lengthwise. I cut each half into thirds or even quarters lengthwise (depending on thickness), then line these up and dice them from there. However, this will never be blog on pure technique, trust me. I have none.)
Make sure your piece of beef is dry. Season liberally with salt and pepper and lightly dredge it in flour. I used a piece about one pound in weight.
Remove the crispy bacon from the pan and sauté the carrot pieces. After a minute add the onion and celery and cook for about 5-7 minutes til they give up some of their liquid content and start to smell sweet. Season them with salt and pepper.
Remove the cooked vegetables from the pan. There should be the beginnings of some fond in the pan. This is reduced sugars from the vegetables and juices from the bacon. It’s pure flavor, and you want this. (You don’t get it in non-stick pans.)
Add some oil to the pan and sear the beef on both sides. If the pan is good and hot (but not too hot—the fond could burn) it should take about two minutes per side. Remove beef to plate. There will be even more fond to play with now, as the juices from the beef have carmelized.
The fun part: add a glass of red wine (or water, or stock) to the hot pan and use a spatula to “clean” the pan. With your help, the fond will quickly melt into the bubbling liquid, flavoring it and thickening it. Turn off the heat.
Return the beef, vegetables and bacon to the pan and turn the beef so it is exposed to this marinade. Make sure the dogs can’t get at it, and let it sit for a couple of hours at room temperature, or longer in the fridge.
Go out and do a good deed.
About 4 hours before you want to eat, heat your oven to 300.
Warm the marinated beef/vegetable mixture on the stove, and add enough beef or chicken stock to come about halfway up the side of the meat. Optional: Add your small can of tomatoes, breaking up the tomatoes with your clean fingers. Add some seasonings: I used basil and a bit of thyme and a couple of cloves of chopped garlic. Bring to a simmer. If your stock is homemade, be sure to season it liberally. If using store-bought, cut way back on the salt.
Place in 300 oven for 4 hours. Turn meat every 30-45 minutes.
According to Cooks, it takes 3 hours for the meat’s internal temperature to get to 190 degrees, the point at which the collagen starts to melt. It takes another hour for it to melt completely, resulting in fork tender, flavorful meat. If brought to 190 too quickly, the collagen will seize up and you’ll be left with a tasteless, tough piece of ex cow. So take your time and do it right.
Come dinner time, I wasn’t hungry. In fact, I was feeling decidedly unwell. Knowing most braises taste even better the next day from the additional marinating, I passed on dinner. I’m glad I did, because I had either food poisoning or a stomach virus that lasted for two plus days.
By Monday I was ready to eat. I wanted some pasta, and my pot roast perfectly fit the bill as an accompaniment. The meat was so tender it had split along its natural lines into 3 fat pieces. These easily forked into smaller pieces, and hey presto, Sunday Gravy. The addition of tomatoes had turned it from one dish into another.
It sauced some penne pasta perfectly. It had a deep roasted, intensely meaty, slightly sweet flavor.
It wasn’t that cold outside anymore, but it was a great antidote to a couple of uncomfortable days.
And it definitely didn’t look like pot roast.
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