Rooftop Gourmet

Braised oxtail is exactly what it sounds like… slow cooked tail meat from a giant ox. Turns out, this tough, gelatinous cut of meat is packed with the most intense beef flavor than any other part of a cow. When it’s slow cooked for hours, the connective tissue and meat breaks down slowly leaving you with fork tender, rich, flavorful beef. Don’t be fooled, this isn’t just a fly swatter, it’s a foodies’ dream.

I braised the oxtail in a reduction of two bottles of red Zinfandel and beef broth. By reducing the wine first, it concentrates the bold fruit flavors as well as burns off the boozy taste. A brunoise of classic mirepoix (carrots, onions, celery) were sweated down and a handful of aromatics were tossed in (thyme, parsley stems, and bay leaves) before I added my secret twist ingredient.

 I love incorporating different ingredients to braises and stews just to give it that underlying aroma or flavor that you can almost put your finger on, but can’t quite figure out what it is.

 One teaspoon of cinnamon and some freshly grated nutmeg did the trick. It didn’t overpower the beef, but contributed to the richness of the sauce, giving it some Moroccan flair.

With the pot of tail in the oven and lots of time to waste, I fooled around with some hors dourve ideas. I roasted some whole garlic cloves with some baby heirloom tomatoes and extra virgin olive oil. Whenever you want to draw serious flavor out of an ingredient… roast it. The skins of the tomatoes pop and then start to wither down into a wrinkly pile of condensed tomato goodness.

 I sliced up some mini baguette into a crostini and spread a healthy dose of tangy goat cheese on the top before smothering it with the roasted tomatoes and sweet garlic cloves. A sprinkle of chunky sea salt and a drizzle of truffle oil made these bite sized snacks unforgettable.

When the oxtail was getting tender, I scraped all of the meat off the bones and discarded them. I poured all of the braising liquid into a fine mesh strainer and returned it to the pot to reduce and concentrate even more beef flavor while I shredded the meat with two forks.

 The rich aromas of meat and sweet spices wafted into my nose and it was tempting to not sneak a few heaping forkfulls of beef before I even boiled the water for the gnocchi.

I bought some golf ball sized potato gnocci at Whole Foods which only needed a few minutes in some boiling water before they were soft and tender. These gnocchi were especially fluffy and not too dense which was nice because I could eat more before entering a food coma.

I tossed the gnocci in with the oxtail ragu and the silky sauce clung to the starchy balls perfectly. I chose to pair this dish with the new vintage of one of my favorite Italian reds. The Umberto Cesari Sangiovese Riserva has been a staple on my table for years.

 This wine is everything a good wine from the Emilia-Romagna region should be; lots of fruit on the nose followed by some spicy cherry fruit, dried herbs and porcini mushroom flavors. It has great acidity and weight which was important for going head to head with the hearty ragu. The rustic and powerful red held its own and was a great match with the dish.

 Most wines from the Emila-Romagna region are bold and robust because the cuisine in that part of the country is pretty hearty. Lots of filled pastas, and heavy ragus come from this region. This classic dish emphasizes the fact that Italians use every single part of the animal and make even the strange parts taste delicious. So next time, you’re on your way to the supermarket, pick up some tail.

With all the hustle and bustle of recently getting engaged, this is the first time my fiance and I had some time to get back into the kitchen. Of course I decided to make something that requires getting our hands dirty and put her in fear of getting her newly adorned bling messy. 

A roulade is French term derived from the phrase “to roll”, and is typically a cut of beef that is rolled around a filling of some sort. Pretty much every cuisine has their version of this classic dish, from the Italian Braciole to the simple Japanese Maki Roll. Siobhan is a pro at rolling and trussing so I put her to work stirring the risotto and getting the butchers twine ready while I pounded the meat.

The thick slab of top round beef looked like a place mat after I was done with it. The pounding not only tenderizes this tougher cut of beef but makes it more accessible to rolling and stuffing. The stuffing consisted of shallots, garlic, spinach, Panko bread crumbs, pine nuts, and shavings of fresh Pecorino Romano cheese.

It’s important to let the stuffing rest and cool before spreading an even layer over the beef (and shave the cheese on after it cools). I think Siobhan was a butcher in a previous life because she trussed the roulade like a champ, slip-knot, after slip-knot, without skipping a beat. It wasn’t until we were cleaning up afterwards that she let me in on her secret; apparently the technique is very similar to a sewing motion.

 Once the beef was secured, we seasoned and seared it in a sizzling hot roasting pan before popping it into a 350 degree oven.

 The risotto was on the stove, getting constant splashes of hot veal stock, sucking it dry, and calling for more liquid in steady intervals. As soon as the first grain of arborio rice started to get al dente, I took the pot off the heat and added a handful of Parmesan cheese, a pinch of saffron, and a _____ of butter.

 The lid goes on, and the risotto can rest on the back of the stove while we waited for the roulade to come to temperature.

I must admit, I have never roasted a radish before but I read about roasted radishes in a book that I’m reading. “Nasty Bits”, is a compilation of short chapters and food related rants by famous chef and author Anthony Bourdain.

He talked about eating roasted radishes in a French bistro with nothing more than a sprinkle of sea salt. Sure enough, the experience was just as he had described it. The pop of the tiny, shriveled orb released juices that tasted like clarified butter and got me drooling all over myself.

When the roulade was medium in temperature, we removed it from the oven and started snipping off the twine while it rested.

 I opened a bottle of the 2007 Porrera Black Slate Priorat because this was their debut vintage to celebrate our debut engagement blog dinner. This wine comes from the Priorat region of Spain, which is considered to be the best of the best for Spanish grape growing regions. It is a blend of Garnacha and Carinena grapes grown in the tiny village of Porrera, a area of Priorat where the winemaker, Joan Sangenius was raised.

As you can tell from the initial quaff and first sip, this isn’t some hot shot dabbling in winemaking and debuting their first wine. This is a serious wine from a man who comes from a family that has been making wine for over 200 years. The inky, jet black color is intriguing and the nose is full of blueberry and spice. Ripe flavors, and sweet, dark berries fill the palate seductively followed by a young, sharp finish.

 This wine is would benefit immensely from five to ten years of cellaring. The rich, full bodied wine had nuances of black licorice that paired nicely with the outer charred crust of the roast and the smooth mouth feel was harmonious with the tender, inner layers of beef. The layers of flavor in the stuffing hit your taste buds, one after another, culminating in a huge bite of creamy, cheesy risotto. The roulade was devoured quickly but there was plenty of extra risotto for us to take to work the next day… that’s just how we roll.

I judge a good burger by how many times I have to wipe the juice off of my elbows… among other things. I love experimenting with different ground meats, cheeses, toppings, condiments, and serving vessels. The possibilities are endless when it comes to burger building; which is a science in itself. I love caramelized onions because they show you how an ingredient can become something completely different with just a little heat and patience.

The strong, pungent raw onion releases its natural sugars very slowly and transforms into rich, sweet,  glob of melt-in-your-mouth goodness. Last night I took caramelized onions to a whole new level. Not only did I cook them in rendered bacon fat, I let them overcaramelize  for over an hour in my dutch oven. Once they were dark brown in color I added some red wine, balsamic vinegar, sugar, and black pepper. I let everything slowly reduce for another half hour until what was left in the pot was a sticky, sweet bacon-onion marmalade.

I had to hold my girlfriend back because she was a repeat offender of sneaking spoonfuls when I wasn’t looking. The underlying smoky bacon flavor combined with the sweet onions and tang of the balsamic reduction was just what I was looking for to spread atop my oversized beef patty.

I always choose a ground chuck or a ground beef that has at least 20% fat and season it liberally; in this case, I tossed in some finely minced garlic as well. The next step is the cheese and for me this is a huge decision because I am a cheese fanatic. If I was stranded on a deserted island I’d take a wheel of stinky Linburger over a gallon of water in a heartbeat. Because I spent so long in the kitchen creating this should-be-everyday condiment, I decided to let it shine and keep the cheese in the background.

 I picked a simple grated Gruyere because it’s an excellent melting cheese with tons of flavor. The final step is choosing the ensemble that will adorn and cradle the beef patty. I have always been a huge supporter of the sandwich-sized english muffin, but I came across some Italian ciabatta bread, still warm from the bakery. I buttered and toasted the sponge-like loaf which awaited the arrival of the bloody rare beef, ready to soak up all the flavor.

I topped the finished product with a tiny handful of baby arugula to add some freshness to this handful of heart attack. In order to get my jaws around the first bite, I needed to be wearing a poncho, because the juice ran down my chin and forearms until I didn’t care anymore. As soon as all of the flavors came together in that magical first bite, my physical appearance and hygiene were thrown out the window.

I paired the burgers with Harpoon Brewery’s 100 Barrel Series Island Creek Oyster Stout. I must say, when I heard about this beer, I was extremely skeptical even though I am a huge oyster fan. I love a nice pint of Guinness with some raw oysters more then the next guy, but I never thought I’d ever taste a beer that was brewed with the actual oysters in it!

 The roasted barley and chocolate rye malts give this brew a rich and smoky nose to it with just the slightest hint of brinyness. It has a gentle mouthfeel that isn’t too over bearing and finishes with strong minerality and a lingering flavor of burnt pumpernickel toast. I really enjoyed this pint with the burger because the roasted barley and the smoky-sweet marmalade were a perfect pair. If only my hands weren’t so messy I would have been able to get better grip on the pint glass.

Seth Kunin has been making wine in California since 1998, and he pays tribute to the Old World Chateauneauf-du-Pape with his 2007 Pape Star from the Central Coast. This wine is a blend of Grenache, Mourvedre, and Syrah just like in the northern Rhone Valley, France except it’s expressive of the Central Coast of California; which gives it a slightly modern twist.

 Most of the time, I pair a wine with whatever I’m making for dinner, but tonight I picked the wine first. I had some extra time, so I walked through Whole Foods with no concrete plans, just an idea of the style and character of the Pape Star.

I strolled past the meat counter and these beautiful, pink veal chops immediately caught my eye. Veal is slightly more delicate than beef and would be a match made in heaven for the medium bodied red.

The Pape Star has smooth tannins and tons of cherry, raspberry and currant flavors with a hint of spice in the finish from the Mourvedre. It’s extremely smooth and gentle on the palate and has some bright acidity, reminiscent of blood oranges.

I wanted to showcase the plump veal chops by limiting the other ingredients I put on the plate, so I stuck with roasted yams to add an element of sweetness to the dish. I made a rich Dijon Mustard sauce freshened up by a fine chiffonade of fresh basil.

The combination of basil and mustard is something new that I had never tried but it worked very nicely with the succulent veal and the char from the grill. It reminded me of Dijon mustard sloshed on a charred Italian sausage from a cart outside of Fenway, only slightly more elegant.

On my way to checkout, I walked past a basket of heirloom tomatoes that were all different sizes, shapes and colors and I just couldn’t resist. I grabbed a bunch of them along with some blood oranges to make a salad.

There are millions of different varieties of heirloom tomatoes (too many to keep track of) with all sorts of funny names that sound like CareBear characters; I think I grabbed some Green Zebras and Big Rainbows.

I sliced the multi-colored orbs nice and thin, and showered them with blood orange zest, blood orange supremes, extra virgin olive oil, and a sprinkle of fancy sea salt crystals. The essential oils in the zest brought the juicy tomatoes to life and added an interesting flavor to the salad. I seasoned the chops and headed out into the cold to throw them on the grill.

They only took about 5 minutes on each side before they were medium in temperature, and I brought them in to rest. The chops were very well marbled for such a young animal and they were loaded with flavor, giving the Pape Star a run for its money as the star of the night.

 When I was forced to wear gloves during my ride to work while waiting for my heat to kick on, I knew it was that time of year to make a huge batch of stick-to-your-ribs chili. There’s nothing like a spicy bowl of chili on a cold winter night to make you forget that the thermometer reads 21 degrees. I have made countless different types of chili over the years (and was even involved in a chili cookoff) but this is by far my favorite and the most comforting.

Texans will tell you that authentic Lone Star state chili has no beans in it, just beef… and lots of it.

 I stopped by Whole Foods on the way home from work and bought four pounds of beef chuck stew meat. Whenever I cook chili, I always make a large enough batch so that I can freeze individual portions and reheat them for quick dinners. Chuck meat is best for this chili because it’s flavorful and tough but after hours of slow cooking, the fibrous meat breaks down and literally melts in your mouth.

 I like to sear the beef cubes in the pot first, then remove them before I start sweating the aromatics; it gives me some time to wipe the tears off of my face after dicing three large yellow onions. I also add about six cloves of garlic and a half dozen fresh jalapenos. Sometimes if I’m feeling like a masochist I’ll toss in a few Habanero chilies to burn off my taste buds but I wanted to make a tame batch this time around.

 Heat from chilies are measured by the level of capsaicin in the seeds and skin and are placed on a scale called the Scoville scale. The more Scoville units a chili has, the more fire it produces (a jalapeno only has between 2,500 -8,000 out of about 10 million). After all of the aromatics are soft, I add some tomato paste and then the dried spices.

Usually it’s about 2 parts chili powder to 1 part cumin, with a splash of cayenne, dried oregano, and my secret ingredient… cinnamon. Just a pinch of cinnamon will leave people scratching their heads as to what that underlying flavor is. I never cook with any wine that I wouldn’t drink by itself, and the same goes for when I cook with beer. Once all the alcohol is cooked off, what you’re left with is flavor, so I never skimp on what is going into the pot.

 I decided to use one of my favorite specialty beers, the Innis & Gunn Oak aged beer from Scotland. This beer has layers of complexity from aging the suds in mature oak casks, previously used to make bourbon. Flavors of vanilla, toffee, and orange peel make this rich beer perfect for chili. I deglazed the pot with the beer and some beef stock, then added the meat back in for a long simmering session. After about two unbearable hours on the stovetop waiting for it to thicken and tenderize, I was ready to get myself a bowl.

The chili was steaming hot and the entire apartment smelled like a cowboy’s campfire. The only thing this ‘bowl of red’ needed was a glass of red. I paired the chili with the 2006 Franz Hill Vineyards Zinfandel from California. I chose red Zinfandel because it almost reminds me of chili; big, powerful, meaty, and peppery.

The tannins aren’t too strong which would clash with the heat and it’s loaded with tons of ripe berry flavors. Don’t get me wrong though, this isn’t your pop and go everyday Zinfandel. The Franz Hill is sophisticated and somewhat reminiscent of a French Rhone wine. The only downside to slow-cooking chili is once you’re finished and satisfied, it’s time to break out a box of S.O.S pads.