Steak tartar - forbidden food
While we were in Paris we dined on steak tartar and we loved it. It’s a shame that one can’t order this simple pleasure in a restaurant here in the states; but alas our government feels compelled to protect us from food…cigarettes and other carcinogens, not so much… food, but of course! I’ll leave it at that because if I contemplate it any further and attempt to write another word about it I’ll end up on a ranting screed. I’m sure you can guess how I feel about this issue.
Since we cannot enjoy this elsewhere I made it for dinner the other night. The thing about steak tartar is that there are so many recipes and I guess you just have to pick one and go with it. Some listed ketchup or mayonnaise as an ingredient and others listed anchovies. This is the recipe I used and I wasn’t crazy about it. Next time I will do it as per the instructions of Richard Olney in his book The French Menu Cookbook :
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8 oz beef, sirloin or filet
Salt and pepper
Dash of worcestershire sauce
Remove fat, tendon, and sinew from the meat. Chop the meat finely with a sharp knife. I used my cuisinart and it chopped it too fine…it was mushy. Toss all this together in a large bowl. Divide it into 2 servings and mound it on each plate. Put an egg yolk in a well atop each mound. Around the edge of the plate arrange:
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Red onions, diced fine
Cornichons, diced fine
Capers, chopped fine
Parsley, chopped fine
About 1 tablespoon of each should be sufficient. Also make available oil and vinegar, hot sauce, catsup, and dijon mustard. So each plate can be adjusted to the diner’s preferences.
Ramps…oh my!!!!
When spring attempts to kick off the winter’s covers and finally, grudgingly, hauls her ass out out of that bed she’s been lolling in for far to long, well I don’t mind admitting that I get more giddy than I usually am…yes indeed folks, I get giddier! I start using exclamation marks far more than a woman with my good sense (cough) should and then there’s that almost irresistible urge to use a word that must not be spoken or written by me…you know the three-letter word, it begins with y and ends with m and well, that’s as close as I’ll actually get to saying it out loud or writing it. Honestly it’s not that I dislike the actual word it’s just that it’s been so overused by a certain brunette on Food Network, and I’ll have none of that, thank you.
But yesterday when I opened the crate of our first CSA spring share delivery I was overjoyed because I could smell ramps. I pawed my way past bag after bag of tender succulent greens like a kid looking for a prize in a box of cereal and finally there it was, the holy grail of spring-time, a bunch of ramps. That word popped into my mind and I quickly edited myself and moved on. Giddier, remember? It’s not me, it’s spring fever, right?
Ramps are technically wild leeks and they’re available for harvest for only a week or two in the spring which is probably why I, and others, covet them so much. Because they’re so precious and so flavorful I feel compelled to use them well. Often I serve then up as a bed for some slowly cooked, creamy scrambled eggs but this year I’m giddy so I made a green pizza.
This is so simple. Make the pizza crust and let it rise over night in the frig. Remove it from the frig and stretch it out as you like it, and then place it on a piece of parchment. Cut the ramp leafs from the stem and bulb and slice them into strips. Cut the roots off the end of the ramps and then split them vertically into long strips. Add these to the the leaf strips. I also chopped a large handful of arugala and I added some chives too. Toss this all with olive oil and arrange it on the pizza crust. Add sea salt, some goat cheese and bacon lardons. Bake it in a 425º oven until golden brown.
Yes indeedy, this pizza is worth getting giddy about…the ramps and the bacon got kind of smoky in the hot oven and the crust was chewy yet crisp. The only mistake I made was too much cheese on the pizza…actually it would be good with no cheese at all too.
More giddiness…tonight we see Iron Man and while we’re out watching the movie TivBob will be recording a new BStar and a new Dr. Who….oh I can’t stand it!!!!
The beef
It’s rainy and cold around here right now. T.S. Eliot said that April is the cruelest month and he certainly hit the nail on the head. Funny how weather like this in Paris didn’t even phase me but here it sure does get me down. That and the fact that my fearless minivan, hauler of trees, compost, groceries, and kids, has broken down and been at the shop since last Thursday. I’m torn between wanting to stop sinking money into repairs and get something new, fuel efficient, and small and wanting it to pull through so I can do some bondo work on its rust spots this summer…perhaps even give it a snazzy, arty, creative paint job. We’ll see how this saga ends up soon enough. Until then I’ve been driving Dave’s car and logging a lot of drive time as I drop Dave and the boys off and then pick them up again later in the day.
Braised short ribs are perfect for when your life becomes unreasonably hectic and stressful. Begin the day before you want to eat them. In a deep, large dutch oven brown each piece. Add 1/2 bottle of red wine, 1 onion peeled and quartered, 5 garlic cloves, bashed but not peeled, and a can of whole roma tomatoes. If the liquid amount is low feel free to add water. Also add salt and pepper and a bay leaf or two. Cover the pot and stick it in the refrigerator. On the day you want to eat them you should preheat the oven to 325F about 3 hours before you want to serve them. While the oven is preheating put the pot on a burner and heat up the contents then pop the ribs into the oven. 3 hours later they’ll come out of the oven looking like little succulent pot roast. There is nothing that well-marbled, braised, grass-fed, locally-raised beef won’t cure…well maybe there is… but it sure does fix me up after a bad day.
Enjoy those ribs with some nice smashed potatoes, a nice pool of reduced braising juices lapping at their base, and a delicious pile of haricot verte to contrast. Don’t forget the wine.
Beef was raised by and purchased from Eric and Carrie Johnson at Jordandal Farm.
