Carpool Wars - Battle: Braise!

When I took my pro chef class, I learned the following:

Braising is a cooking technique, seen often in French cuisine, combining moist and dry heat. It uses heat, time, and moisture to break down the tough connective tissue, collagen, in meat, making it an ideal way to cook tougher cuts. Most often the meat is quickly dry seared in a hot pan, then transferred to a pot with liquids to cook, long and slowly, until the meat is utterly and completely delicious.

Carpool Wars - Battle: Braise! 
A long-simmering summary.

It turns out that I have been braising this post*.

Back in December 2012 (!), the carpool moms had another knock-down, all-out, no-holds-barred, gourmet dinner throw-down.  We raised the stakes by adding a new category, Best Wine Pairing.  We required complementary side dishes.

We braised our butts off.

That memorable evening, meat was falling off of bones all over the place.  Rich, long-simmered sauces were ladled over risotto and silky smooth potatoes and creamy, cheesy polenta.  In the midst of all the heartiness, a gorgeous green salad appeared**.

Then much incredible wine was consumed, and I kind of lost track of the details.  But there was definitely a warm apple tart with cinnamon ice cream in there somewhere.

The contenders:

 Christy F's Asian Style Beef Short Ribs, with Melted Leeks and Creamy Mashed Potatoes.  Ginger, garlic, soy and scallions in the sauce, perfectly tender beef, and the barely caramelized leeks went perfectly with the luxurious spuds.  Wow.

Recipe here.

The short ribs were paired with a gorgeous vintage wine from the host's collection

 My Braised Lamb Shanks with Gremolata and Baked Polenta.  The lamb cooked for hours in tomatoes, onions, stock and wine, with a little fennel and rosemary.  Very tasty.  And the creamy polenta with a slightly toasted top crust was killer.  This was the cover recipe from the October issue of Bon Appetit, so this is actually a double theme post:  Carpool Wars and Cook My Mailbox!

Recipe here.

The lamb was paired with a Biale Petite Syrah, Royal Punishers, one of my all-time favorite wines***.  My friend had just given me this bottle, and I couldn't think of a better reason to crack it open.

Christy D.'s Veal Osso Buco with Saffron Risotto.  Can you say decadent?  I thought you could.  Her sauce was deeply flavored, with cloves, bay leaves, sage and thyme.  I loved this one.

Recipe here.

A Shiraz married with the veal.  They were quite well matched, if I do say so myself.

The judges ate, and drank, and considered.

In the end, our hostess' Short Ribs (justifiably) ruled!  My wine pairing received accolades, and Christy D's presentation once again impressed****.   As much as everyone loved Battle: Brunch and Battle: Taco, the consensus was that we'd outdone ourselves yet again.

But that might have been the wine talking.
And the apple tart.

Then we had a little lamb

With deepest apologies to the nursery rhyme version*:

Came home with some ground up lamb
(ground up lamb! ground up lamb!)
Came home with some ground up lamb
Inpsired to make meatballs

Added feta in by hand
(in by hand! in by hand!)
Added feta in by hand
with herbs, an egg and salt

Then I baked the balls of lamb,
(balls of lamb! balls of lamb!)
Then I baked the balls of lamb,
'Til they were round and plump

Served the meatballs to the fam
(to the fam! to the fam!)
Served the meatballs to the fam
Who gobbled them all up!

The End

At least I didn't have to make a dorky toga out of a bedsheet this week

My daughter's class has just begun a study of Ancient Greece. Like countless other parents, I've been beset by the reintroduction of vaguely remembered gods and godesses into everyday conversation (Prometheus? Didn't he do that triangle equation? Or was he the fire guy?) and am living in dread of the costume drama and the associated gold braid and fig leaf crowns that will certainly ensue. So you can picture my muted response to this one:

Her: Hey, Mom! Guess what? I have the coolest homework for the Greek study!
Me: That's nice, honey. Your dad should be home soon, and I know he'd love to hear all about it.
Her: But...
Me: Really, he's great with all those Olympians. He's practically a Greek god himself*.
Her: But...
Me: And your brother, despite being barricaded in his room hiding from you right now, I think would be open to bribery if you need any help. I'll even pay.
Her: But it's COOKING!
Me: It's...Oh! Well...great! Let's get started!

It turns out she's volunteered to make a dish and bring it in to feed the class this week. She pulls a cookbook out of her backpack, a personal loan from her amazing teacher. There are tons of great options to choose from, so we decide to do a test run of a few at home and pick a winner from there. She's all over that plan. Post-it notes are stuck to three recipes, then she and the book disappear and she returns with a detailed shopping list. "Don't forget anything!" she admonishes me when I drop her at school the next day. With a determined look on her face, she takes over the kitchen that evening, demoting me to lamb-cuber, onion-slicer and clean-up crew**.

And then, my oh-so-mortal girl proceeded to make a dinner that was fit for the gods. Whatever their wacky names might be.

In the background is an Arugula Salad with Ginger-Date Vinaigrette nestled in a Parmesan bowl

All the recipes she made are from The Philosopher's Kitchen, a fascinating collection of modern interpretations of ancient foods. I've just ordered a copy and can't wait to try more of these recipes when it arrives. This lamb dish was incredible!


Lamb Skewers with Fruited Mint Pesto

1/4 c. raspberry or other fruit vinegar
2 Tbs. golden raisins
4 pitted dates, minced
1 tsp. honey
2 Tbs. toasted pine nuts
2 Tbs. grated Parmesan cheese
1 c. fresh mint leaves
3 Tbs. olive oil
1 lb. boneless leg of lamb, cut into 1-inch cubes
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
8 small wooden skewers, soaked in water

Simmer the vinegar, raisins, dates and honey in a small saucepan over medium heat until raisins are soft, 2-3 minutes. Allow to cool to room temperature. Puree this mixture, along with the pine nuts and the Parmesan cheese, in a food processor until smooth. Add the mint leaves and pulse until minced. Slowly add the olive oil and continue blending until smooth. Toss the lamb cubes with 1/2 of the pesto in a large bowl. Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, and as long as 12 hours. Season remaining pesto with salt and pepper to taste, cover and refrigerate.

Preheat grill or broiler. Liberally sprinkle the lamb with salt and pepper. Evenly divide the lamb cubes between the skewers and grill or broil until the lamb reaches the desired doneness, about 2 minutes per side for medium. Serve with the reserved pesto on the side.

Noting selflessly that there are several vegetarians in the class, she's decided to serve these decadent Honey Feta Griddle Cakes to her friends at school.

* When we were applying for our first rental house together, we had to meet the agent at his West Hollywood office. When my now-husband, then-boyfriend walked in, the dapper older gentleman representing the owner drew in a breath and said, "You didn't tell me you were bringing Adonnis!" We got the house, and I got a stomach cramp from laughing so hard in the parking lot afterward.
** I could have personally filmed a week's worth of material for Dirty Jobs.

Stew on This

You may not be fully aware of this, but it was actually winter here in LA recently (as in this morning and yesterday, but not Monday, which was nice, or this afternoon, which was also fantastic.) For those few frigid hours, as the icy, 60 degree weather sent us burrowing into our Ugg boots and huddling under blankets, a vision of comfort food overwhelmed me, and I decided to make stew for the first time ever. Not everyone was on board with this decision.

"Mom, what's in the pot?"
"Really yummy stew."
"When's Dad coming home?"

"Hey, babe. I'm on my way home. What's for dinner?"
"Really yummy stew."
"I'm right by the store. Do you need me to pick something up?"

Maybe they were a little bit right to be concerned. Starting way later than I should have, I rushed through the recipe, barely hitting the recommended time in the oven and jettisoning the side dish from the book. ( "Grits?! Dad...DO something!") When we sat down to eat, there was polite silence, and a massive run on the buttered pasta.

Chastened, I put the pot back in the oven and went on with my night, forgetting all about it until a rich, tantalizing aroma made me look up from my laptop and race for the oven mitt. Unbelievable the difference that hour made. It was like the stew fairy had come to the house. Or a convention of them. This stuff was "crack-a-lackin" as the zebra says. I hummed a victory song to myself, and went to bed.

Cut to the next night.

"Mom, what's for dinner?"
"Leftover stew for me. You guys can have grilled cheese."
"We love you, Mom!"

"Honey, what's cookin' tonight?"
"Leftover stew, or you can pick something up for yourself on the way home."
"I'll swing by the Chicken Cafe. Thanks, babe!"

I quietly stirred my pot of grits. Lovingly sprinkled in the two kinds of cheese, the big pat of butter, and put my stewpot on the stove to reheat. Heads began to turn, away from American Idol, no less. I hummed my victory song (partially to drown out American Idol), and got out a plate. I spooned out my gloriously creamy cheesy grits, then added a generous portion of melt-in-your mouth meat and dark, satiny, wine-laden sauce, made even better overnight by the stew fairy convention. I sat myself down and savored every last bite while the entire room looked on in envy. Comfort food, indeed.