braised beef short ribs

There are two things I cannot stop doing:

1) Singing Rachel’s “Gives You Hell” from the triumphant return of Glee. If I were a Gleek, I would rewind this scene and watch it over and over again, pausing to take in Artie’s cute-as-pie toothy smile. But I’m not a Gleek.

I’m not! I’m not!

2) Dreaming about these braised beef short ribs. As I was reheating some for Husband’s dinner last night, I may have snuck a taste or two. Or eaten half of his meal. Smaller portions for post-surgical patients are recommended, right?

My rendezvous with these crazy delicious short ribs began, as all good things do, with television (ahem…Glee. Case in point). I was channel surfing on a rare lazy saturday afternoon and landed on an episode of America’s Test Kitchen. It’s my new televised culinary crack, and here’s why:

1) I feel like making lists today.

2) It doesn’t have any annoying hosts. I’m not going to name names, but let’s just say that they rhyme with Dachel Day and Fandra Fee.

3) In addition to show you how to make a completely awesome meal start to finish, they also give you a little explanation behind the dish. In this case, host Christopher Kimball (who is also the founder of Cook’s Magazine, fyi), explained the different cuts of meat that are considered “short ribs”, where to get them, how to trim them, and what type of recipes to use them in.

Within two seconds of seeing what they were making in this particular episode, I knew I was destined to do the same. Previously I had only encountered short ribs in restaurants, but after making this incredible entree in my own kitchen, I’ll never go back.

But I didn’t exactly follow the ATK directions to the T. Since I have a neurotic need to alter every recipe that I lay eyes on, I changed it a bit and made it my own. It’s a nervous tick. I’m working on it.

For instance, I began not with onions but with wine. A whole bottle of it. I wanted to make an incredibly rich, flavorful sauce, so I started by reducing the wine by half, and then added a few of their suggested ingredients.

In terms of the meat itself, the ribs were incredibly easy to work with: no muss, no fuss. A tad on the expensive side as far as red meat goes, but I don’t mind paying a bit more for cuts that are this flavorful. ATK recommends using boneless short ribs, but my butcher didn’t carry them and was still going to charge me for the weight of the bones if he trimmed them. I went with it, figuring that the bones would only contribute more flavor the the sauce.

And boy did they ever. I was also suprised at how easy this dish was to make: there’s very little prep involved. Chopping a few veggies here, browning a few ribs there. Make some sauce, stick the whole shebang in the oven and…

…”bam!” To quote Semeril Sagasse. 

Imagine pot roast, but like a million times better.

Damn I’m a good writer. I use such descriptive phrases as “a million times better,” “a bit” and “incredibly easy.” Someone give me a freaking Pulitzer already.

By “a million times better,” I mean that the meat is richer and more intense. The sauce doesn’t only exist to maintain moisture in the meat as it does for a big roast—it also ends up as a wonderfully tasty accouterment, perfect for sopping up with a loaf of crusty bread.

And the meat could not physically be more tender than in this dish. You know sometimes how meat in a roast is tender but dry at the same time? Not here. Not at all. Fork-tender, flavorful meat all the way, baby.

Yum-O. A semi-homemade meal in 30 minutes or less. Oh yeah, babe.

If I ever had hopes of making it on Food Network, they’ve all been shot to shit now.

Television just  makes me look fat anyway.

Make this incredibly easy dish that’s a bit and a million times better than, like, everything else. Oh, and I teach writing classes on thursday evenings. Come and learn from the master.

-RDG

Braised Beef Short Ribs (based on the recipe from America’s Test Kitchen)

  • 3 pounds bone-in short ribs
  • 1 bottle or 4 cups dry red wine
  • 1 large shallot, diced
  • 5-6 carrots, peeled and cut into 3″ long pieces
  • 3 tablespoons oil, divided
  • 1 packet gelatin
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 1 cup beef broth
  • 3 garlic cloves, minced

Pour the bottle of red wine into a saucepan. Bring to a boil, and then reduce heat to medium and simmer until wine is reduced by half.

Preheat oven to 300F and place rack in lower middle position. Slice the short ribs into one-rib pieces and season with salt and pepper. Add one tablespoon of the oil to a large dutch oven and heat on medium-high until the oil shimmers. Brown half of the short ribs on all sides, about 6 minutes total. Repeat with a second tablespoon of oil to brown the remaining ribs. Transfer ribs to a plate.

With dutch oven still over medium-high heat, heat the last tablespoon of oil and add the garlic. Sautee for one minute, stirring constantly. Add the shallot and cook for 2 minutes more. Pour in the reduced wine and deglaze by stirring rapidly, scraping all of the browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Pour in the beef broth and add the bay leaf, carrots, and ribs. Bring to a boil, then cover and transfer to oven. Cook for 2-2 1/2 hours, or until beef is fork-tender and ribs have separated from the meat.

Remove from oven and using a slotted spoon transfer the meat and carrots to a bowl. Cover with foil to keep warm. Discard bones and bay leaf. Pour the sauce into a small pitcher and place in the fridge until fat has risen to the top, about 15-20 minutes. Meanwhile, pour the packet of gelatin over the water in a small bowl and let stand 5 minutes. Spoon off the fatty layer from the top of the sauce and pour sauce back into pan. Heat on medium-high and stir in the gelatin. Pour sauce over meat and carrots. Serve immediately. Serves 4.

creamy portobella pot roast

I’m here to settle a big debate. Here’s the sitch:

When you’re describing those big, fat delicious mushrooms known as portobello/as, do you say “portobello” or “portobella”?

This has bothered me for years. It’s kept me up many a sleepless night, tossing and turning and wondering which dang vowel to use. Happily, my friends over at the Mushroom Council (Yep. You heard me. Mushroom. Council.) have decided to put an end to the whole messy controversy and go with the feminine portobella.

Whew. Thank goodness for Mushroom Councils. Without them, who would settle volcanic debates that threaten to rip our nation in two? Our liberty, nay–our way of life is at stake here, people.

There goes my invitation to their annual conference.

At any rate, you’ve gotta pop by the market soon and pick up the goods for this loverly creamy portobella pot roast. It’s rich. It’s heart-warming. It will cook itself while you are at work.

Ready?

Steal a 3-4 pound boneless pot roast from your butcher while he’s not looking. C’mon. Variety is the spice of life, folks. Being a law abiding citizen is totally overrated.

Rinse and pat dry. And I mean dry. Julia Child will come and smack you over the head with a Le Creuset if you don’t. Or Meryl Streep. Either way, both are big women and Le Creuset is some heavy friggin cookware. You wouldn’t survive.

Season with salt and pepper.

Next, scrub down 10-12 yukon gold potatoes. Or reds. Or fingerlings. Whatever makes your hanky go panky.

Grab four portobella mushrooms. Wipe ‘em down with a damp paper towel and see how much soil comes off. You’re glad you cleaned ‘em down, eh?

You can be lazy and rinse them, but only if you want to experience the wrath of a Le Creuset to your noggin.

You need one yellow onion. Or as I like to call them: yellah.

Also grab about a cup and a half of baby carrots…

…some gahhhlic…

…and one can of cream of mushroom soup. But don’t tell anyone about the Campbell’s. My reputation would be ruined.

But we all know that’s a lie.

To make up for the use of a canned soup, grab a bottle of really good red wine. I know, I know. I’m a conundrum. You’ll need about one cup.

Alright, it doesn’t have to be good red wine–I was opening this bottle for a special occasion anyway, so I figured a cup could be sacrificed for the sake of pot roast. A $10 bottle would work just fine. But seriously, folks: don’t cook with a wine you wouldn’t drink.

Now, heat one tablespoon of oil over medium-high heat. We need to brown the meat, my darlings.

Brown quickly on all sides, using tongs to turn, and remove from heat.

Layer some of the potatoes and carrots in the bottom of your slow cooker insert. If you have a small Crock or prefer super-soft potatoes, you will want to chop the potatoes beforehand. I like my taters whole, and I have a big dang Crock, so I just tossed ‘em in. Lay the roast on top.

If I can help it, I don’t like to lay a roast directly on the bottom of the Crock. The edges can tend to get overcooked if they’re touching the pan.

Now then. Peel your onion and hack it in half.

Give it a rough chop. You don’t want your pieces too small.

Chop off the stems of your portobellas…

…and slice those bee-youtiful mushrooms into half inch pieces.

Peel the amount of garlic you’d like to add. I’m crazy. I add a metric ton of garlic to everything I cook. You do what feels right–anywhere in the range of 4-8 cloves is pretty reasonable for this dish.

Mince those suckers up.

Throw the rest of the carrots, potatoes, mushrooms and garlic on top of the roast.

Now we need to make the sauce. Roast can’t cook without liquid, people. Crack that can of cream of mushroom and stir in one cup of wine.

I know, I know. It looks kind of like a lavender mess. But I promise the results will be delicious.

Add a little bit of salt and pepper and get ready to cook this sucker.

Add a bay leaf to the mix and give the whole thing as good of a stir as you can manage. Once it cooks down a little bit you can give it a more proper stir.

Cover and cook on low for at least 8 hours.

See? No more purple distaster here. What’s left are tender potatoes, scrumptious portobellas, meat that falls apart at the touch of a fork and some fragrant broth to tie it all together.

This hearty wintry dish goes great with a big hunk of crusty bread.

This is totally decadent.

Mmmm. Warms my cold February tummy. And the Mushroom Council would be so proud.

Make this for a delicious, warming weekend meal.

TGIF!

-RDG

Creamy Portobella Pot Roast

Serves 6-8

  • 3-4 pound boneless pot roast, rinsed, patted dry and seasoned with salt and pepper
  • 1 yellow onion, sliced
  • 4 portobella mushrooms, cleaned and sliced into 1/2″ pieces
  • 10-12 small potatoes (yukon gold, baby red, or fingerling), chopped if desired
  • 1 1/2 cups baby carrots
  • 4-8 cloves of garlic, minced
  • 1 can cream of mushroom soup
  • 1 cup red wine
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 1 tbsp cooking oil
  • salt and pepper to taste

Heat oil over medium-high heat in frying pan. Quickly brown meat on all sides and remove from heat. Create a small layer of potatoes and carrots on the bottom of slow cooker insert. Lay roast on top. Add the rest of the potatoes and carrots on top of the roast, as well as the garlic, mushrooms and onion. Mix together the cream of mushroom soup and the wine in a separate bowl; add to slow cooker. Add bay leaf and salt and pepper to taste. Stir. Cover and cook on low for 8-10 hours. Serve immediately.

apple cranberry pot roast

I know what you’re thinking. A pot roast with fruit? Damn, girl. You crazy.

Why, yes. Yes I am. And you should be too. It’s the right place to be.

I make up some recipes that don’t go on this blog. They flop. They suck a big one. Husband and I eat them alone, crying on the living room floor and wondering why I bother to cook in the first place.

But that’s how one learns, little chickadees. Make a bunch of inedible stuff and you’re bound to come up with something edible once in a while.

This was one of those whiles. The flavor was incredible—moist meat that fell apart at the touch of a fork. Sauce that was tart, sweet, and tangy in all the right places. Little slices of apple, cranberry and shallot that lent texture and enriched the sauce. We loved it. We scarfed it. We licked our plates. We sat, smiling, at the dining room table. The living room floor was so lonely.

A word of warning before we begin: this is not a meat-and-potatoes type of pot roast. This is a pot roast for the sweet-and-savory minded. If you like that combo, or you’re up for trying something new, raise your hand. And grab the following ingredients:

A hunk of cow. A 3-4 pound boneless pot roast, preferably no longer mooing. Rinse and pat dry.

This recipe would also lend itself nicely to pork, so if you feel like it, grab a pork shoulder instead.

A couple of apples. I had fujis on hand, but you could use any type of apple you like. Except anything with the word “delicious” in the title. Those apples are certainly not delicious. They should be voted off the apple island.

Grab about a half a head of garlic and one large shallot.

You’ll need one cup of dry red wine. The rest of the bottle, do with what you will. But hear this: I don’t condone drinking and cooking.

Okay, I do. I really do. Those two activities were made to be performed together. Don’t fight it. Just go with it.

Rummage through your pantry and find a can of whole cranberries left over from two Thanksgivings ago. Check the date on the bottom. Not expired? Sweet.

If you would prefer a little more tart and a little less sweet, I would go the fresh cranberry route.

Find some apple cider vinegar….

…and a little veggie oil or olive oil.

Forget to take a picture of the oil, please. Don’t make me look bad.

For spice, grab one sprig of rosemary, a dollop of dijon mustard, and a little salt and freshly ground pepper.

Ready? Let’s do this dang thing.

Chop up the apple into 1/2″ pieces.

And while you’ve got the cutting board out, mince that gorgeous rosemary.

And while your chopping arm is warm, mince up that gahlic. Gaaahhhlic, I say! Gaaaaahhhhhhlllliiiicc!

Sorry. Momentary outburst.

And since you’re so good at chopping, slice up that loverly shallot. Shallots are like onion’s leaner, meaner cousin. They may be small, but they can make you tear up twice as fast and twice as much. They ain’t jokin, those mangy shallots.

Now’s the time to pile all of those ingredients in Le Crock Pot. Add the wine, cranberries, apples, shallots, garlic, dijon, salt, pepper, one tablespoon of oil, two teaspoons of vinegar, and rosemary to the pot. Give it a good stir.

Add the meat and spoon some of the sauce on top. Cover and cook on low for 8-10 hours.

Halfway through cooking, flip the meat over and coat with sauce.

Oh my darling roast. You are so beautiful.

Remove the roast and put onto a plate. Cut or shred the meat into the size pieces you’d like to serve.

Meanwhile, turn the Crock on high for 5-10 minutes with the lid off. It’ll thicken the sauce a bit. Toss the meat back in and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Serve the chunks of roast with a bit of the sauce spooned on top.

We ate ours with a spinach, butter lettuce, walnut and gorgonzola salad with garlic vinaigrette. It was a delicious combo, although I wished halfway through that I had some crusty bread to sop up the juices from the roast.

I totally loved the combination of the sweet sauce with the savory meat. The apples and cranberries were a tender topping, and the shallots gave a tiny bit of bite.

Flavorful, easy, and gorgeous winter meal. If you love sweet and savory dishes as much as I do, make this sometime soon.

Have a lovely Thursday!

-RDG

Apple Cranberry Pot Roast

  • 1 cup dry red wine
  • 1 shallot, sliced
  • 4-5 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 sprig fresh rosemary, stem removed and minced
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 2 medium apples, cored and diced
  • 2 teaspoons apple cider vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon dijon mustard
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 3-4 pound pot roast, excess fat removed and patted dry

Combine first 10 ingredients in a slow cooker and stir. Add the roast and spoon some sauce on top. Cover and cook on low for 8-10 hours. Halfway through cooking, turn meat over and coat with sauce.

Remove meat from pot and shred or cut into pieces. Turn slow cooker on high for 5-10 minutes to thicken sauce. Return meat to pot, mix with sauce, and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Serves 4.