Sur La Table, a cooking store majoring in gadgets with a minor in
pots and pans. It’s like stepping out of a Vegas elevator right onto the casino floor. Past the entrance and just beyond the entrance and the shelves of pots, one enters a brightly lit world of smiles and, well, rubber: neon red whisks, lemon yellow basters, and food-coloring blue peelers. A riot of excess, the epicenter of kitchen fad-land, and the world’s whitest store.
Missing among the slew of reminders and timers, is something which nudges and jars your memory of dishes cooked and forgotten. Weeks ago I made a jar of Indian pickle with jalapenos: marinated overnight in spices (on the windowsill!?), cured in lemon juice overnight (same windowsill), then mixed with boiling sesame oil and left to sit for three days (windowsill) prior to refrigeration. (You have to sterilize the jars in a pot of boiling water before all this windowsill stuff.)
And so into the fridge sailed two jars of delicious homemade pickle, superior to any standard take out version and a condiment ready to adorn any variety of dishes. Two days ago, reaching for the ketchup, I glimpsed the lid of a gold Ball jar accompanied by the instant aromas of freshly sliced jalapenos and the sounds of drizzling rain as I stared for hours at the windowsill and the curing pickle.
Sometimes you forget the food you cooked a mere two hours ago. For example, the classic wine-braised short ribs we simmered-till-melting Sunday at noon and re-discovered around dinnertime, soft-bubbling away in the oven. Being short ribs, that most forgiving of treats, they were extremely tasty, despite the slightly disorienting feeling of having a warm pot of stew magically appear in our oven, as if the tooth fairy or Santa himself had visited our apartment.
While loathe to suggest yet one more gadget to the folks at Sur La Table hq, here’s an idea: a retractable arm attached to the kitchen timer which, when the timer beeps, shoots out and smacks you in the head. There also might be a market for a similar item attached to a very long-term timer (“The Pickle Timer”), which can be suction-cupped to one’s windowsill.
The following is an unbelievably fantastic short rib recipe.
(NOTE: You don’t have to bind each short rib (of course), but it really does hold the thing together, which both makes it look better on the plate and eliminates the need to fish floating bones from the pot, possibly shredding meat in the process. Veal stock, frankly is critical here, unfortunately, but if you don’t have it, use boxed chicken stock and thicken with cornstarch. I’d be sad if you did that, however. Finally, good short ribs are hard to find; even Pino, our trusty butcher, gave us some lousy ones. They’re often scrawny, so don’t compromise and search out a good source for meaty ribs.)
Red Wine Braised Short Ribs (from Balthazar Cookbook)
Serves 4
5-6 pounds meaty short ribs (see NOTE)
few sprigs rosemary
few sprigs thyme
1 celery stalk halved crosswise
veg oil
4 carrots, peeled, cut in 1-inch lengths
1 onion, diced ½ inch
4 shallots, sliced ¼ inch
5 garlic cloves, halved
3 tablespoons tomato paste
3 tablespoons flour
½ cup ruby port
4 cubs red wine
4 cups veal stock
salt and pepper
- Preheat oven to 325.
- Tie butcher twine around each rib. Place herbs in between celery halves and tie in a bundle.
- Heat a splash of oil in a large pot over medium-high heat. Season ribs well with salt and pepper. Add to pot without crowding and brown well on all sides (about 5 minutes). Transfer to a large bowl and brown the next batch, add to same bowl.
- Pour off fat, add another splash of veg oil and add the carrots, onions, shallots and garlic, cooking until lightly browned. Season.
- Add tomato paste and stir in for a few minutes. Add port, wine, and celery, reduce by 1/3.
- Return ribs (hopefully in one layer). Season again, pour in stock to cover by 1 inch (add water if necessary). Bring to a simmer, cover, and place in oven for 3 hours.
- Transfer to a large platter, remove strings. Strain sauce and simmer down by half. Return ribs to pot and simmer 10 minutes. Serve. (We didn’t bother straining. An overdone carrot is a wonderful thing-just pick out the celery bundle).
