I woke up at my parents’ house in Los Angeles this morning and noticed something strange about their kitchen. Unlike most baby boomers in their sixties, my parents have not plastered their fridge with photos and mementos from their children. No, my parents’ refrigerator is plastered with recipes. Forty-eight of them, to be exact. They are are clipped from newspapers and magazines and are scribbled on scraps of notepaper. They’re tattered and torn and most show evidence of use: One has a huge oil stain in the middle of it and another is smudged with chocolate. Several are inked with notes and lively criticisms of the original recipe. Many others are less likely ever to be tried, such as one for braised beef which has two full pages of instructions in 10-point font. I suppose it’s nice to know that if my father ever finds himself with six hours to spare, he will have something to do.
One recipe which I know for a fact has been tried is Shrimp and Avocado Salad with Mango, Chile, and Lime Dressing, pictured below. My super chef dad created these individually plated works of art in the thirty minutes while I was out for a run.
The salad is just butter lettuce, cooked shrimp, and fresh summer produce of your liking: cherry or sliced heirloom tomatoes, blanched green beans and sliced avocado work well. Here, my dad turned it into a sort of salad nicoise by adding sliced boiled red potatoes, salty olives and seared tuna.
For the dressing, puree these ingredients in a blender:
1/2 mango, cut up
2 tablespoons oil
3 tablespoons seasoned rice vinegar
grated zest and juice from 1 lime
1 tablespoon fish sauce
2 teaspoons soy sauce
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
Back to the fridge. There is one photo of me and my sister. But it doesn’t really count because the photo is itself a magnet, and it’s holding up a recipe.
So I’m thinking, maybe it’s in the genes?
M: It really is in the genes. Your grandmother loved to bake, too – coffee cake on Sunday mornings, cookies pretty much any day of the week, chocolate cake on my birthday, and crusty French bread on winter days so good that our high school friends used to look for my sisters and me between classes to ask whether Mom was baking that day. If so, they gave us rides home to get at her bread. If not, we had to take the bus.
FYI, the scribbled recipe on the fridge is something Julia Child did in her very first television program, long ago – a potato pancake of sorts, very festive.
And the braised beef recipe is my version of boeuf bourgignon. I make it on occasion for guests – special guests, since it is a complicated affair.
Here’s the recipe:
For the braise:
2 medium onions, peeled and quartered
2 medium carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
2 roma tomatoes, quartered
2 cloves garlic, peeled and roughly crushed
thyme, parsley, and whole black peppercorns, to taste
1 bay leaf
A handful of dried mushrooms – porcini, portobello, or some other fragrant variety
4 to 6 lbs chuck roast, cut into cubes of one to two inches and trimmed of all fat
4 tbsp unsalted butter
1/3 cup flour
1 1/2 to 2 cups chicken broth
1 bottle young and fruity red wine, preferably pinot noir
1 to 2 tbsp tomato paste
Olive oil
Water
Balsamic vinegar
Brandy
For the garnish:
24 to 36 pearl onions, peeled of the outer skin
2 tbsp unsalted butter
1 tsp sugar
1/2 cup water or chicken broth
10 to 12 ounces shitake mushrooms, quartered
Six to eight carrots, peeled and sliced on the diagonal
1 clove garlic, peeled and roughly crushed
Salt to taste
Preheat oven to 275 degrees.
With string, tie the onions, carrots, romas, garlic, spices and dried mushrooms in a square of cheesecloth.
Heat 4-6 tbsp olive oil in a heavy dutch over until it just starts smoking. Quickly sear the meat on all sides, working in batches and turning so that all sides brown nicely; replenish oil as necessary. Remove the meat and set aside.
In a small pot, bring the chicken broth to a simmer. In a heavy-bottomed pot, preferably enameled cast iron, melt the butter and, when the foam subsides, add the flour, stirring evenly and continuously for 5 to 7 minutes, until it forms a rich aromatic roux of the same color as peanut butter. Regulate heat carefully so that it does not burn. Slowly add the simmering chicken broth, stirring constantly until the sauce becomes smooth and creamy, about one minute.
Transfer the sauce to the dutch oven. Add the wine and tomato paste, stirring until smooth. Place the tied-up carrots, etc., in the middle of the dutch oven and arrange the browned meat around it, adding just enough water to cover. Bring to a simmer on the stove top and then bake, covered, for 2-3 hours, or until the meat is tender, regulating heat so that the stew simmers very slowly.
With tongs, remove the carrots, etc., setting it in a strainer or colander over a pot and pressing out as much juice as possible.
With a slotted spoon, remove meat from the dutch oven and set aside, covering loosely with a damp cloth so that it does not dry out. Bring the liquid in the dutch oven to a rapid boil over high heat and reduce by one half, or until the sauce thickens nicely, about 20 minutes. Correct the sauce with salt, the balsamic vinegar, and brandy, all to taste; you want a “high” aromatic taste, so use the vinegar and brandy judiciously.
Add the juices pressed from the carrots, etc., to the sauce. Add the set-aside meat and bring to a slow simmer for 10 minutes or so.
Meanwhile, in a heavy-bottomed saute pan, bring the pearl onions, sugar, broth and half of the butter to a rapid boil. Cover, reduce the heat, and simmer for about five minutes, stirring frequently, until the onions soften and brown a bit. Add the quartered mushrooms, cover and cook for a minute or two, until the mushrooms give up their moisture.
In a second heavy-bottomed saute pan, melt the rest of the butter and add the sliced carrots, salt, and garlic, and cook slowly, covered, until tender, about 10 minutes.
Stir the onions and mushrooms into the serve, garnishing with the carrots.