My Life for Eire!

   On this, the ides of March, I bring to you a meal worthy of Caesar himself. Caesar was Irish, right? No? Well, he'd wish he was for this classic. Once a year, we all turn Irish. I think, for me, it actually goes back to my Dutch grandmother.
   If I'm not making any sense, blame it on the whiskey.
   It really is a strange thing. Neither my heritage nor Jes's hails from Ireland, but we both love corned beef and cabbage and have continued the tradition handed down from our mothers to have it on St. Patrick's Day, like so many other non-Irish folk.
   Frankly, I don't mind having it other days of the year, and until recently I never knew that Jes's and my favorite sandwich happens to be based on the same flavor combinations. Rye bread, shaved brisket, shredded kraut, and possibly mustard; somehow, Switzerland's cheese and Russia's dressing got thrown in the mix. But if it works, you'll get no complaints from us.

The Best Reuben

   I'd been eating these for years and never saw the connection, probably because I rarely eat bread with a meal unless it is a sandwich. Now, whether you choose rye bread or soda bread to butter this Thursday, chances are you're not going to pile it high with meat and cabbage; the leftovers are a different story, of course. And maybe that's how the first Reuben happened.

No Corn?

   How many of you thought corned beef had something to do with corn? Raise your hands; it's OK to admit it. (It's not like I can see your hands, anyway.) I, for one, did. Until, at least, I learned where ground pepper comes from. No, not the ground. Wow, these quips just won't stop!
   Peppercorns are dried berries which we commonly grind up as a spice to pre-season a piece of meat or to add to a plate, or use whole when infusing their flavor into a liquid. This is only half of the story, however. When I thought of corned beef in this context, the image of a clove-dressed ham came to mind, but even that isn't right. There's another definition for "corn" that clears up all of this confusion. In Old English, "to corn" was to preserve in a salt brine. Nowadays, it can also refer to a drier marinade, but corned beef—as I can see it packaged before cooking—is soaking in a juicy brine.
   This meaning for "corn" is actually the original, and the reason we call maize by this new name is because it is synonymous in Latin with "grain." Most countries outside North America refer to any cereal grain (literally, grass seed) as corn. Actually, that's probably why "corn" is present in "peppercorn." But, the grain in this case isn't a seed: it's a grain of salt.

Pickled Brisket

   Doesn't sound too appetizing, does it? Maybe if we were Irish, or at the very least Northern European, pickled meat would sound more like a delicacy. But, just because it's cured—more likely, being cured—doesn't mean we'll be eating it straight out of the package. Several hours of heat should make this look even more delectable.

March 17, 2014 - Corned Beef and Cabbage

   Our brand of choice for at least two years is JP O'Reilly's. I'm not here to compare brands or find the absolute best; I think it's pretty hard to mess up a good thing, and cured meat is one of those things.
   Our method of cooking is in the crockpot. Apparently, some people bake their corned beef, which I'm only curious to try because of that wonderful layer of fat that I spy. But that trial might have to wait for a less Irish day, because as you'll see, the liquid from simmering this hunk gets put to further use.
   Because of the limiting size of our slowcooker, we had to cut the brisket in half, and that's only more difficult than it sounds because Jes doesn't like to touch raw meat. I can't say that I do either, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

March 17, 2014 - Corned Beef and Cabbage

   The package "suggests" using the brine to cook with, which is a beautiful idea. It also asks for water to cover, but fearing an overflow, I didn't feel like covering both halves. The brine from this particular brand includes water and 4 different varieties of sodium, none of which are MSG (not that this affects me, personally), as well as "flavorings." It also includes a meat tenderizer known as papain. This is an enzyme sourced from the papaya plant, and there may be some health concerns over its dosage and general ingestion, but when used in foods these possible side effects are likely mitigated; it is the medicinal use of papain which requires greater care. But for food allergen information, papain may affect people with kiwi allergies.
   Back to ingredients, there's also that little packet of seasoning you saw. The package also made the suggestion of adding it, "if desired." I couldn't find out what exactly is in it—probably those mysterious "flavorings"—but peppercorn is the obvious potent notable.

March 17, 2014 - Corned Beef and Cabbage

   What you see here is the difference submersion makes. The package calls for boiling and then simmering for 50 minutes per pound of meat. We exceeded that mostly because St. Patrick's Day fell on a workday, and that's the best excuse to use a slowcooker. This brisket soaked for around 7 hours, twice as long as it needed. Keeping the meat covered in liquid will not only keep it from drying out (as the one on the left did), but it will also help it hold onto that beautiful color!

Irish Roots

   Corned beef and cabbage is, more traditionally, a type of New England boiled dinner, where the meat is not often the star. Root vegetables such as potatoes, carrots, turnips and onions, in addition to cabbage, are boiled alongside the roast, which may be beef or pork.
   Some people will defend their Irish roots by saying that corned beef and cabbage is an Irish-American variant of Ireland's traditional bacon and cabbage meal. Being 100% American myself, I can't stand up for them on that front, but I will go on believing that it's more Irish than some people would like to admit.

March 17, 2014 - Corned Beef and Cabbage

   Back to the wonderful topic at hand, while the meat is resting (and covered in foil to keep its heat), we drain the drippings into a stove-ready pot and throw in some red potatoes, carrots (baby, that year), and after 30 minutes of covered, high-heat simmering, probably half a head of green cabbage.

March 17, 2014 - Corned Beef and Cabbage

   Jes and I love cabbage. Raw, it has some spice to it that can aid an Asian-inspired salad or even be used to turn one into a wrap; a light sauté in stir fry can also exemplify this characteristic. Pickled, it doesn't break down as much as other vegetables, so it keeps its crisp crunch whether you're eating it on the side or adding it to a hotdog. But for a leafy vegetable, moist heat is really how it stands out. Its thick ribs are my favorite part, softening to just the right texture over the next 30 minutes of cook-time.

March 17, 2014 - Corned Beef and Cabbage

   If you prefer your potatoes and carrots to have more bite to them, you can probably add the cabbage in earlier and lessen the time. But I think this is just the sort of meal where their fall-apart texture is desired—if anything, to keep the corned beef from feeling left out.

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.

Dem Bones: Revisited

   Life is full of mistakes, missed opportunities, false hopes and broken dreams. What does that mean for us? I threw out the bones!
   I know, with all my talk on stretching ingredients, I should've known better. As it turns out, those bones are on their way to a landfill somewhere, destined to eventually re-enter the ecological cycles that saw their creation. But, it leaves me to wonder what a second stock might have looked and tasted like in comparison to the prototype.
   Remouillage is the term for "re-wetting" bones for this second stock. Its primary purpose serves efficiency—extending the use of those bones for flavor and body. Veal bones tend to be the routine, which sources suggest is due to veal's higher market price. And the reason money actually matters here is that the product of a remouillage (called the same) is traditionally nothing special. You wouldn't ordinarily use a second stock the same way as a fresh one. In fact, it's often simply added to the first and reduced (i.e., boiled down).
   Other practical uses for a remouillage include replacing water in a recipe, such as for a soup that would use your first stock or for a risotto; reducing it to form a glaze for meats; etc.

A Good Source

   Going back to stock, the best of the best will utilize joints more than straight sections of bone. Knuckles, neck, and similar areas which happen to have less meat would be full of tendons, ligaments, and cartilage; chicken feet fall especially within this category. Considered inedible and unpleasant to the average palate, these parts are perfect for making stock; and after seeing what's really left from boiling bones, you'll know why.

January 23, 2016 - Beef Stock Scraps

   To see the bone beforehand, it's hard to imagine just how little of it was actually bone. I can't discern weight very well, but for the size of that raw bone, 1½ pounds felt very heavy. In reality, it was merely dense. That inner collagen-matrix (or scaffold, as some call it)—what we simply refer to as the marrow—ultimately melted down and became the broth. And that's exactly what you're looking for when you slowcook a bone for hours.
   The leftover bone itself (pictured) obviously could have withstood a lot more pressure. But the question is, would it have been worth it? to simmer that bone until there'd be nothing solid left to discard? Before you answer that, you have to be certain of one thing: where did your bones come from?

The Element of Surprise

   Apparently, there's a lot of controversy over the risks of consuming a bone broth; and we're not talking about swallowing bone fragments. A healthy bone consists of calcium and phosphorous, dense collagen, and numerous micronutrients. However, bones are also a repository for toxic elements such as lead (Pb). The health-scare comes from the belief that this lead will seep into the broth alongside the beneficial elements. So then, sourcing your bones to healthier animals, those which are less likely to have consumed lead in the first place, is your best option for combatting this claim.
   I say "claim" because a January-2013 study took a lot of heat for its well-meaning public alert regarding lead exposure in bone broth. A scathing, comprehensive review of it can be seen here. While lead, when it is present, does effectively contaminate the stock, there was much left unsaid about the source of the researchers' samples (chicken parts as well as the water used). But to return to the thought at hand, how and where an animal is raised has much to do with the nutrition consuming it will pass on.
   Lead is one of those elements that plagues our environment and never goes away; it is labeled "non-essential and toxic." A by-product of mining, some countries are more affected by it than others. It can be present in soils to varying degrees (including absence), but it is also present in the atmosphere. Soil-lead tends to remain sequestered within a plant's roots (read here), while atmospheric dust accounts for the majority of lead present in a plant's shoots (reference here) or in the plant as a whole (read here). The point of all this is to say, if lead is in the plants, it is in the food chain; and whether we're consuming the animals that feed on leaded plants, or other plants fertilized with those animals' manure, lead is likely in our diet as well.
   As with any toxin, however, there is a limit. (Indeed, some naturally occurring poisonous compounds, if consumed, will only result in sickness, not death.) By natural order, most of the lead which enters the body moves into the animal's bones, humans included. This keeps it far from the systems which would ultimately end up most affected by it. If lead concentrations grow too great, the effects start to poison various metabolic processes throughout the body. So the operative question is, how does the body remove lead from its stores?
   This author relates it to the advantage of the mineral selenium on the detriment of mercury (both from the consumption of fish). Where mercury aims to replace selenium and destroy those puzzle-piece enzymes in the process, a greater quantity of selenium will inhibit this effect. Lead has a similar relationship with calcium and iron, but by extension, calcium and iron guard against the bodily absorption of lead. Additionally, vitamins such as D, C and B1 help to pass lead into the urine to be removed entirely from the body.
   Expounding upon a previous point and bringing us back to the bone, homemade stock is not a huge source of calcium (read here). This is because, while the majority of a bone is in fact comprised of calcium and phosphorous, those elements are each part of an insoluble compound (reference here). Suffice it to say, boiling water will not leach calcium from a bone. This is where strong acids such as undiluted vinegar or hydrochloric acid come into play. Not only does this mean eating a bone can be beneficial (consider fish bones), but it makes me really want to utilize a vinegar bath for the start of a remouillage.

Take a Collagen Course

   Collagen is the real reason for the bone-broth hype. There is at least a score of types of collagen, differentiated by their structure, as dictated by the levels of the amino acids within them. These types are enumerated after Roman fashion, and the five most common are explained in this video. Of those, types I and III are the most abundant. Type I is found within the skin, bones, tendons, etc.; type III is common to blood vessels and muscles, as well as alongside type I. Type II is present in cartilage, and it also makes up the entirety of the eye's vitreous. Type IV is found in the eye's lens, and is a part of the body's filtration system. Type V is a major component of the placenta, and it also found in the space between cells.

The By-Products' Juices Produce These Uses

   If you've skipped straight to this section, I don't blame you. What follows is really the focus to this post: you've made the broth, you've done the easy part; now what? Well, every bit of your previous recipe has its place. Assuming your stock has been freshly strained at this moment, I'd first like to address the leftovers.

   Especially if you used meat in your stock, these strained items (sans bones, bay leaves, etc.) have a revival story to tell. That bowlful of slowcooked goodness may look melt-in-your-mouth scrumptious, but the science of making stock reminds us that there is little to no flavor left in those scraps. However, the fact that they haven't completely dissolved tells us that there is still nutrition to them.
   A couple of uses include homemade dog food or reconstituting them into a stew. Now, I'm no vet, and I've actually never owned a dog, but I've always been intrigued by the families who've prepped meals for their dogs. And let's face it: this looks the part. Right alongside that idea, putting them in a stew just sounds redundant. I mean, you just removed them from the liquid. If you're going to put them back in and add salt and potatoes, what have you really accomplished? But, hey, the options get better from here.
   I thought about it a moment and decided to make shepherd's pie (recipe to follow). Those casseroles of my childhood utilized ground beef, peas and carrots. These leftovers looked even more appetizing, so why not try it? To balance out their lack of flavor, you could either use a marinade on them or really dress up their blanket of mashed potatoes.
   Similarly, online sources suggest baking the leftovers into a gravy-laden pot pie.

mmm, pudding

   No, that's not a pot pie. Neither is it pudding, but it really looked like it, especially considering Jes had recently made matcha-white-chocolate pudding.
   That, my friends, is pure beef fat. Lard. If you'll recall, I said I won't cook with the store-bought, manufactured variety. (It's too much to worry about sources, techniques, age, nutrition; not to mention, that's one thing I wouldn't want to buy in bulk.) Most people advocate throwing this out. I mean, it has separated itself, and refrigeration's made it solid and therefore easy-to-remove.

pie crust

   I endorse removing, but also reserving. After attacking the ice-sheet with a blunt knife and a spatula, it portions itself nicely. Just put them in the freezer and take out a piece as needed. You can use it in place of butter in most recipes (homemade biscuits, but not homemade biscotti; this is beef-flavored, after all). Commenters here suggest warming it and basting pre-cooked meat to effectively turn a conventional oven into a microwave oven, or melting it over dog food as a treat that results in a healthier coat. Jes and I might try rubbing it on a roast or a London broil. Additionally, because rendered fat has a decent smoke point and a ton of flavor, it can also be used for the base of a roux.
   Other ideas, including for oil sourced from other animals, can be read here.

apple sauce

   Finally comes the gelatinous gem itself: stock. How should you use it, beside exploiting its unsettling texture in a video? Well, following the thought of roux, why not make it the base of your gumbo? You know I'm tempted to try that—and, of course, document it. Similarly, as with any stock, once you salt it, you've got a broth and you're well on your way to making soup. These are the kind of meals what make winter bearable, am I right?
   If you really reduce this down, you'll end up with a gravy that makes you rethink the canned stuff. I'm not a fan of that gravy, but I love meat au jus; for me, it's a matter of redefining what gravy should be, and this is definitely the way to do that.
   As if there weren't enough recipe variants for soups, stews, and gumbos to keep you busy, maybe you'll feel up to the task of creating an aspic. Too often is this traditional garnish turned into a culinary tragedy, as savory jello molds come to mind. But an aspic should work as a cold spread, even a condiment, for the meat it's derived from. Fish tends to be a popular one. Of course, if you're really interested in the nightmarish version, you might at least be better off using powdered gelatin to accomplish your deeds.