Read Around My French Table Online
Authors: Dorie Greenspan
Around My French Table (49 page)
If you want to multiply the number of servings, keep the same amount of bouillon but double the amount of beef to serve 12; to serve even more (I've made this for a dinner party of 26), you should double the bouillon as well, or poach the beef in batches.
If your beef isn't already tied crosswise at intervals, do this at home using kitchen twine. The crosswise ties will hold it in shape while it poaches. To make the traditional string that gives this dish its name, tie the beef lengthwise—you can tuck this lengthwise string under the knots made by the crosswise strings— and leave a long piece of the twine free. You'll use this string to pull the beef out of the broth.
| FOR THE BOUILLON | |
| 5 | parsley sprigs |
| 2 | thyme sprigs |
| 2 | bay leaves |
| 2 | celery stalks with leaves |
| 2 | tablespoons mild oil (such as grapeseed or canola) |
| 3 | big veal or marrow bones |
| 1 | oxtail |
| ¼ | teaspoon sugar |
| About 5 quarts water | |
| 3 | leeks, dark green parts only (reserve the white and light green parts), washed |
| 2 | carrots, trimmed and cut in half crosswise |
| 1 | garlic head, only the loose papery peel removed, halved horizontally |
| 1 | 2-inch chunk fresh ginger, peeled and halved |
| 1 | star anise (optional) |
| 1 | teaspoon black peppercorns |
| 2 | beef bouillon cubes |
| 1 | tablespoon tomato paste |
| 1 | tablespoon coarse salt |
| | |
| FOR THE VEGETABLES AND BEEF | |
| 6 | small potatoes, scrubbed and halved |
| 6 | small turnips, trimmed, peeled, and halved and halved |
| 6 | carrots, trimmed, peeled, and cut crosswise into thirds |
| 1 | pound celery root, trimmed, peeled, and cut into 2-inch cubes |
| Reserved white and light green parts of the 3 leeks, split length-wise, washed, and cut into 2-inch lengths | |
| 6 | shallots, peeled and halved |
| 1 | 1½-pound beef tenderloin roast, all fat removed, tied with twine (leave a long tail of string), at room temperature |
| | |
| FOR SERVING | |
| Fleur de sel or other sea salt | |
| Dijon and grainy mustard, preferably French | |
| Horseradish, preferably grated fresh | |
| A peppermill filled with black peppercorns |
TO MAKE THE BOUILLON:
Gather together the parsley, thyme, and bay leaves, tuck them between the celery stalks, and tie up the bundle with kitchen string.
Put a large soup pot over medium-high heat and add the oil. Drop in the bones, oxtail, and onions (if you can get everything in without crowding the pot, go for it; if not, do this in batches), sprinkle over the sugar, and brown the bones and onions, stirring as needed. When all the ingredients are as deeply browned as you can get them—even blackened—transfer to a bowl, and pour out and discard the fat.
Put the pot back over medium heat and, standing away, pour a cup or two of water into the pot. Using a wooden or metal spoon, scrape up all the goop that formed on the bottom of the pot, a satisfying job, since you get all the color and flavor from the sticky bits and the scraping does a good job of cleaning the pot too. Pour in 4½ quarts water and toss in all the remaining ingredients, including the celery bundle, bones, oxtail, and onions. Bring to a boil, skimming off the scum that bubbles to the top, then lower the heat to a simmer, and cook the bouillon, uncovered, skimming often, for 1 hour.
Strain the bouillon into a bowl and discard the solids—they've done their job.
(The bouillon can be cooled and refrigerated for up to 3 days or frozen for up to 2 months. Once the bouillon is cooled, skim off any fat—it will have floated to the top.)
TO COOK THE VEGETABLES AND BEEF:
Return the bouillon to the pot and bring it to a boil. Lower the heat to a simmer and add the potatoes, turnips, carrots, and celery root. After 10 minutes, add the leeks and shallots and cook for 10 minutes more. Check that the vegetables are cooked and, when they are tender, using a slotted spoon, lift them out of the bouillon and into a large bowl. Cover and set aside while you poach the beef.
(The vegetables can be cooked a few hours ahead, moistened with a little bouillon, covered, and refrigerated until you're ready for them.)
Drop the beef into the simmering bouillon, keeping the string out of the broth (you can tie it to the pot's handle) and poach for 15 minutes—it will be very rare in the center. Pull the beef from the pot using the string; transfer it to a plate, cover with foil, and allow to rest for 5 to 10 minutes. (If you want the beef more well done, you can poach it longer or, better yet, pour some of the hot broth over it at serving time.)
Meanwhile, reheat the vegetables in the bouillon. Cut the beef into slices about ¼ to ½ inch thick. For each portion, put a slice or two of beef in the center of a shallow soup plate, surround it with some poached vegetables, and moisten with bouillon. Have fleur de sel, Dijon and grainy mustard, horseradish, and a peppermill on the table so your guests can season their own dishes.
MAKES 6 SERVINGS
SERVING
I like to use shallow soup plates for this dish and arrange them in the kitchen. Carve the beef so the slices are ¼ to ½ inch thick and put a slice or two in each plate. Add the vegetables and ladle a little hot broth either around the meat or, for those who like their meat more well done, over it. Bring the plates to the table and let your guests season their servings to taste with fleur de sel, Dijon and grainy mustard, horseradish, and pepper from the mill.
STORING
The bouillon can be made ahead and refrigerated for up to 3 days or frozen for up to 2 months, and the vegetables can be poached a few hours in advance. It's best to cook the beef right before serving, but leftovers can be covered and refrigerated for up to a couple of days and used for sandwiches or salads.
I had waited patiently in line at the butcher's counter at La Grande Epicene, Paris's premier supermarket, and now it was my turn. I leaned across the counter and told the butcher that I wanted enough
boeuf à la ficelle,
or beef on a string, for eight guests. He gave me a questioning "Eh?" and said, "You
need jarret de veau,
" which is veal knuckle and not at all what I needed.
"No," I said, politely but firmly. "That's fine for pot-au-feu, but I'm making
boeuf à la ficelle
and need something more tender." "I can't understand you," he huffed and started to move on to someone else.
While my French isn't flawless, it had been years since someone couldn't understand me, especially when I was speaking kitchen French. Knowing that I was about to be dismissed and seeing that I was upset, the woman next to me told the butcher that, indeed,
jarret de veau
was completely wrong and that Madame (that would be
moi
) was correct in asking for something more tender. Even the other butcher at the counter came over and whispered the "tender" word to his associate. But my guy repeated that he couldn't understand me, turned his shoulder to me, and addressed himself to the next customer, the nice woman to my left. She shrugged at me, said she was sorry, and proceeded to order a roast for dinner. Bruised, I stomped off furious. Couldn't understand me? Harummpf.
I finished gathering the rest of the fixings for dinner and looked over at the now quiet butcher counter. Only the whispering butcher was there, so I approached and started to repeat my request. "I know, I know," he said, "you're making
boeuf à la ficelle
for eight tonight." He then hefted a gorgeous hunk of fillet of beef, cut off a length, and tied it, as it must be tied for this dish, with a long loop of string, the loop I would use to lower the beef into the simmering broth and to lift it out minutes later.
I thanked him—lots—and then, wanting to say something about his fellow butcher, I said, in a roundabout and typically French way, "I really appreciate your having been so patient with me." Bingo—he knew just what I meant. "Madame," he replied, "you must forgive my colleague. He couldn't help you because he had no idea what you were making for dinner. In fact, I'm surprised that you, an American, know
boeuf à la ficelle.
Here in France, we think of it as
une recette perdue.
"
Une recette perdue,
a lost recipe. I was fascinated by the idea.
Clearly, the recipe wasn't lost to the woman who'd waited in the line with me. In fact, she confided a bit of culinary advice, suggesting that I add a spoonful of tomato paste to the bouillon, just as her mother did. Oh, and a couple of bouillon cubes too. Later that night, after following her advice, I was sorry I couldn't call to thank her—it was just the right touch.
(aka Great Pot Roast)
T
HE FRENCH HAVE TONS OF WAYS
of taking inexpensive, often tough cuts of meat and turning them into dishes so tasty the mere mention of them can make you smile—and
boeuf à la mode
is one of those dishes. It's essentially a pot roast, and although it's French through and through, it seems to remind everyone from everywhere of granny's slow-cooked roast. (Even my grandmother might have thought of this dish as kinfolk to her brisket.)
What makes this an "à la mode" and not a stew is the fact that the beef is cooked in a hunk, not in chunks. The roast is marinated overnight and, in the process, tenderized, then browned well and simmered gently in the oven in a combination of herbs and vegetables, wine and Cognac, and a surprise ingredient: anchovies. As assertive as they are straight out of the can, they are mild, even unrecognizable, in this dish, adding subtle depth.
After hours in the oven, the beef is tender and the sauce richly flavored and just as richly colored. You can skim off the surface fat, slice the roast, and head for the table, or you can hold the dish for a day or two.
BE PREPARED:
The roast must be marinated overnight. And, like so many slow-cooked dishes, this one benefits from an overnight rest, making it as great for parties as it is for cozy family meals.
| 1 | chuck, round, or rump roast, about 4 pounds, trimmed but not completely devoid of fat |
| Salt and freshly ground pepper | |
| 1 | onion, halved and thinly sliced |
| 1 | carrot, trimmed, peeled, and cut into chunks |
| 1 | celery stalk, trimmed, peeled and cut into chunks (save the leaves) |
| A bouquet garni—2 thyme sprigs, 2 parsley sprigs, 1 rosemary sprig, 1 bay leaf, and the leaves from the celery stalk, tied together in a piece of dampened cheesecloth | |
| 1 | 750-ml bottle hearty, fruity red wine |
| 1 | tablespoon olive oil |
| 4 | cups beef broth (it can be canned or made from bouillon cubes or beef stock base) |
| 3 | tablespoons grapeseed oil, canola oil, or peanut oil |
| 3 | tablespoons Cognac or other brandy |
| 4 | anchovies, drained, rinsed, and patted dry |
| 2 | tablespoons tomato paste |
Give the roast a salt-and-pepper massage and put it in a casserole, bowl, or sturdy zipper-lock plastic bag that can hold it, the vegetables, and the wine. Toss in the onion, carrot, celery, and bouquet garni, then pour in the wine and olive oil. Mix everything together as best you can, cover the container or seal the bag, and put it in the refrigerator to marinate overnight. (If you can, turn the roast from time to time so that the wine permeates it evenly.)
The next day, remove the beef from the marinade and, if you've got the time, let it come to room temperature.
Meanwhile, strain the marinade, reserving the vegetables and bouquet garni, and pour the liquid into a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over high heat and cook until reduced by half, about 10 minutes. Add the beef broth and bring back to a boil, then remove the pan from the heat.