Chuck – Beef Daube

Dayum.

They call it Labor Day. And year after year, it routinely kicks my ass.

I think it’s because it’s a three day weekend. And because of this, no staid, routine Weekend Activity will do. On a regular weekend, I may go for a walk. On a three day weekend, I go for a run. Weekend: nine holes. Three day weekend: Eighteen holes without a cart. Weekend: crossword puzzle. Three day: left handed brain surgery with a blade I knapped by hand out of chert.

This weekend is no different. It’s exhausting, but a good kind of exhausting. Dearly-loved houseguests we haven’t seen in forever, a wedding, and repairing my broken water main ahead of all that so that the aforementioned activities won’t be unduly affected.

But a guy’s gotta eat. Houseguests afford me the opporunity to use some of my larger hunks o’ critter, so I’m doing just that. And again, because of my SuperPregnant wife, a braise or long, slow roast is on le menu.

Alors! Let’s get our French on. My braise will consist of that Provencal classic, Beef Daube.

Beef Daube is a French beef stew whose name means “French beef stew.” Cubes of chuck, braised in wine with a mirepoix, herbs and some accoutrements. Traditionally, one is supposed to prepare the braise in a special dish called a daubiere, which I have absolutely no intention of doing, primarily because I don’t have one. But also, having a specialty pot for one dish and one dish only makes me twitch a little.

For those keeping score at home, I will be using Bittman’s recipe.

We’ll be braising chuck, the shoulder of the beast. Moves a lot, does a lot of work. Pronounced “beefy” flavor and tough as old leather unless you cook it for a very long time in liquid over low heat to melt all that icky collagen into delicious gelatin. Mine is a shade under three pounds.

Looks like:

Also, a braise gives me plenty of time to chat with my guests while the dish does that thing it does. Giddyup.

The mise:

First, Cubism.

I call this one "Three Musicians."

Olive oil and good bacon into the pot. Cooked over medium heat until crispy.

Fat rendered, I pull the bacon and brown the beef in the bacon fat/olive oil until appropriately Maillardy.

Beef browned, I pull it and introduce the veggies to the pot. There’s plenty of fat therein, so I don’t need to add anymore.

I sweat the mirepoix and garlic with fresh thyme, fresh rosemary, orange peel and a little salt to pull out some moisture.

When the onions are translucent, I add some wine and red wine vinegar, just until it bubbles.

(An aside: I used to be confused about “sweat onions until translucent.” They don’t actually become clear, as the description would suggest. At best, they become a little less opaque around the edges of each little segment of onion, and they release moisture into the pot in which they’re cooking. So they aren’t really “translucent”, as much as “translucent around the very edges.” Kinda like teeth. Which, if you look, are also ever so slightly translucent around the very edges. Seriously. Look closely at them. So sweat your onions until they look like teeth. I’m a weird guy. You’re welcome.)

When the liquid bubbles a bit, I add the beef back into the pot, cover, and forget about it for an hour.

Puppies!

This content is unrelated.

Back to it. I add the bacon back to the pot and check doneness. Needs more time.

Duckies!

More unrelated content, signifying the passing of time.

After another half hour, then hour, then hour and a half, we’re getting close. But we’re not quite there.

Also, it’s nine thirty. We fed the kids and shuffled them off to bed, but the rest of us are getting restless.

Twenty more minutes.

Bunnies!

Unrelated content signifying the passage of time... sexily.

Some bits are done, and some are not. I spot check doneness with a fork, and serve up the ready bits over brown rice with wine for those who aren’t pregnant. Milk for those who are. The rest of the dish stays on a low simmer to cook more.

Time of dinner: 9:50. I am a distinctly mediocre host, saved only by the tremendous grace and good humor of our dear friends.

The end result

The Verdict: A lovely dish, which I could have done better. It met universal acclaim, but hey. They’re my friends. They have to like me.

The texture of the meat was nice in the pieces we served, and only got better as we left the rest of the batch to simmer. Herby and floral, balanced with bacony undertones and the sweetness of the wine. Also, even better the second day.

The Wife Says: Yummy. Nice job, sweetie. We should make this again when we have more time.

What Did We Learn?: Start earlier. And be sure to dine with friends. Kind, patient friends.

Up Next: The sky’s the limit.