Take that, wind chill factor: Belgian Pot Roast with Onions and Mushrooms

Based on a traditional Belgian stew, this hearty roast is flavored with beer, thyme, bay leaves, mushrooms and lots of onions. Recipe below.

THE CALENDAR KEEPS TRYING TO TELL US IT’S STILL AUTUMN. The snow on the ground and wind chill numbers with minus signs in front of them tell another story, at least here in Chicago. So when Marion and I spotted a hefty chuck roast in the meat department, deep red and nicely marbled with fat, we grabbed it like a long lost uncle who’d suddenly won the lottery.

Chuck roast is one of our favorite cuts of meat, cheap and wonderfully flavorful. And yes, it can be on the tough side, but cook it long and slow and the toughness melts away. Continue reading “Take that, wind chill factor: Belgian Pot Roast with Onions and Mushrooms” →

A taste of Provence: Layered Pot Roast with Anchovies, Capers and Garlic

Hearty pot roast gets big flavor thanks to capers, onions, garlic and anchovies in this simple dish from the South of France, Grillades à L’Arlésienne. Recipe below.

A COUPLE OF WEEKS AGO, I ADMITTED TO BEING A MAJOR FRANCOPHILE when I wrote about roasting chicken on a bed of lentils. That caused our friend Karin to tell me about three different French cookbooks. Already having more cookbooks than we have shelf space for, I immediately headed for the library website and ordered them. Of course, all three showed up within days of each other. Continue reading “A taste of Provence: Layered Pot Roast with Anchovies, Capers and Garlic” →

Blue Kitchen: The mysterious… Pot Roast?

Indian biryani curry paste gives an exotic twist to classic American pot roast. Recipe below.

It’s funny the things that stick in your brain. I routinely forget to pick up the dry cleaning or that we’re out of cottage cheese or that I was supposed to get the oil changed. But I still remember the day we talked about food in my grade school French class with Mademoiselle [okay, I forget her name too—something French, since she really was from France].

She, being from France and probably wondering exactly how she’d ended up teaching a bunch of squirmy American eleven-year-olds in St. Louis, Missouri, began to wax nostalgic about French food. We, being squirmy American eleven-year-olds from St. Louis, Missouri, were horrified. Sauces were involved. Shallots. Innards. Finally, one of the girls in the class cracked, saying something insightful, like, “Ewwwww.”

Mlle. [Je-ne-sais-quoi] rolled her eyes and said, “Ah, yes. For Americans, everything must taste like fried chicken.”

Despite the fact that, unlike all my other teachers, she was actually young and pretty and spoke with that wonderful accent, I was offended. What the hell was wrong with fried chicken? Being eleven, hell had entered my vocabulary, albeit under my breath unless I was around trusted fellow hell sayers like Carl Halford and Mike Prokopf.

Besides, didn’t we Americans have pizza? Okay, I had never tried it, but my brother Mike had eaten it at Little Charlie’s house and pronounced it good. And didn’t we have chop suey? This ersatz Chinese delicacy hadn’t yet been widely outed as an American invention, so it counted. Okay, I hadn’t personally tried that either—Mike and I always ordered hamburgers when our parents forced us to go to some sketchy Chinese dive downtown.

But that was then, this is now. Continue reading “Blue Kitchen: The mysterious… Pot Roast?” →