Hazy Days

   Yesterday, Jes and I had beef stew for dinner, and while it wasn't homemade, it was as equally pleasing to consume. The brand was Dinty Moore, the source was my mom's pantry, and with those two points this became a meal down memory lane for each of us.

Putting the Heart in "Hearty"

   A year or so ago, when the extent of my culinary expertise was in knowing which flavors go together, I attempted my first beef stew. I'd like to say it was from scratch, but I didn't yet know how to make my own broth. Back then, I also found no qualms in using "cooking wine."
   Not only was it not from scratch, I can't even take credit for it. So why am I sharing this? Because there is still value in walking the path already laid out. In following a recipe already mapped, you first have faith that it will be as good as they say. Then, in putting it to practice, you experience the work that is required to bring it to fruition. If your aim is to learn, you will certainly have plenty of opportunities to do so, with less trouble than if you had gone your own route. Some of the best recipes out there, no doubt, have been refined through trial and error, and they are written up with the purpose of avoiding further error. But we're all different, and some of us trip where others stride. The key is not to let it drag you down, not to let it keep you there.
   Yes, there's a secret thread I'm weaving here, but inasmuch as that ulterior thought is creeping in, I really am equally talking about the stew. So, allow me to get to it, and you'll at least see half of what I mean.

The Meal

   This recipe comes from a Lisa Lavery at Chowhound, one of those sites I find just by searching Google. I have to admit, the ingredients' list is daunting for a minimalist like myself. It isn't so much the variety of ingredients that find their way into the melting pot, but the ones that are there strictly for science. In this case (in my mind), flour and wine.

October 9, 2014 - Beef Stew

   This may be the first time I'd thought to use flour, and I'm not ashamed to say I wouldn't have considered it on my own. Indeed, it took another recipe to get me to realize just how useful it could be outside of baking. Growing up, I'd seen my mom using it similarly with an egg-wash beneath, but directly, I'd never applied it to a meal.
   Lisa called for a 3-lb. chuck roast to be trimmed and cubed. We skipped ahead and simply bought pre-cubed beef conveniently labeled "for stew." The perfectionist in me made an ordeal of coating each piece in the lightly seasoned flour, so this may have been the longest step for me.

October 9, 2014 - Beef Stew

   Cooking the meat calls for browning, which isn't enough to cook it throughout, but to ensure that red center stays juicy when it comes time to return it to the heat. This is where I erred, and the culprit is none other than the oil. What was meant to become a flavorful crust of brown turned into splotches of charred oil, thankfully inconsistent among the cubes. The real damage, however, was dealt to the pot.

October 9, 2014 - Beef Stew

   I believe those onions were leftover from kebabs—which only explains the holes that some of them are showcasing. The smoky resolution of the picture is no joke, and this result is as much burned in our minds as it was to that pot, as an example of poor cooking. If I knew then what I know now.... Hey, mistakes serve as great teachers.
   Actually, the pot's material held as much responsibility for this mess. Lisa used a Dutch oven; I used a stainless-steel pot. The latter heats up more quickly, and with our electric stove, lowering the heat also proves meddlesome. Of course, I didn't know either of these points at the time. All I was certain of? the oil's burning! Although, rather than seeing this as a bad choice in oil or measure of heat, my thoughts back then were more along the lines of thinking I'd spent too much time: as if the oil would burn regardless, and I had to get the work done before that point.
   In the aftermath, this pot saw several soakings, scrubbings, and ultimately a handing-over to my mother because many remnants of the blackened residue refused to be wiped away. Like a bad memory, it kept haunting me and proving that all my work to erase it wasn't amounting to anything. But where I failed, my mother succeeded, and that pot lived on to see other meals.

   This step where I was surely questioning whether this was actually going to plan—this step is not to be taken lightly. If I wanted this to be perfect, I should have started over. But then, what a waste of food—not to mention, effort—that would be.
   The way it's supposed to go, Lisa explains as the fond. It sounds like The Fonz, and it's actually about as cool, but it's literally the French term for the "foundation" or "base" of the stew. Much like the roux of gumbo, this is where the magic is supposed to happen. It's the dense flavor of meat and onion and tomato and wine and flour coming together as a thickening agent for the future stew. This is known as the Maillard reaction, and it's slightly intriguing.
   The wine. I almost assuredly used cooking wine, because we don't drink anything short of Moscato. Wine, or even diluted vinegar, applies its acid to the "browned bits" along the pot's bottom. It doesn't work so well, however, against the flat, blackened bits. So, assuming you've properly nurtured the oil in your pot, attained an even balance of flavors, and actually managed to have some liquid leftover before it comes time to deglaze with wine, flour is the key to pulling everything together.
   When you've got a sauce, then it's time to bring the meat back in, along with broth and herbs. Boil to penetrate the cubes of beef with a decent temperature, then simmer uncovered to help thicken what you have. An hour later, carrots, celery and potatoes make it into the pot to cook for another hour, this time covered. This will especially aid in cooking the potatoes, *wink wink*.

October 9, 2014 - Beef Stew

   That looks much better, since, you know, the bottom of the pot is hidden.
   Lisa calls for frozen peas to be added just before serving, but I have this thing against frozen veggies in general, and Jes has this thing against peas in general. So, needless to say, we stopped there.
   I was really tempted to invite neighbors over to share this bounty. What a wonderful conversation-starter that would be, considering I'd barely acknowledged that anyone else existed since we moved into our complex. If memory serves me correctly, we handed the leftovers off to my parents. Not that it wasn't worth keeping for seconds. On the contrary, it was so worth keeping that we just had to give it away. The meat was remarkably tender, the potatoes as well, and the broth was so full of flavor. I could only have wished it was thicker. Next time, Gadget.