Category — Meat

I’m not one of those people who used to be a vegetarian, but that’s not to say I haven’t thought about it sometimes. I read one of those Best American collections—I wish I could remember which one—in grad school, and there was an essay about an American living in the U.K., maybe in Ireland? For the summer, he worked on a lambing farm, where he took care of the lambs and helped with births and, also, watched them be killed, which was devastating. I sobbed. Reading his experiences, I thought for the first time about the ethics of eating animals. Since, I’ve read about the poor conditions in meat-packing plants or the way animals are bred in dark, overcrowded buildings where they can’t move around and seldom see grassy fields or sunlight. (I wish I could’ve seen Fresh when it came to Milwaukee and will plan to watch Food, Inc.—If you’ve seen either, I’d like to hear your thoughts.)

So far for me, though, the enjoyment of a steady diet of poultry, with red meat thrown in once or twice a week, still trumps the alternatives, both because it’s such an easy way to get protein and because, honestly, it tastes good and is convenient.

This internal conflict is probably why I was so interested to read Susan Bourette’s book, Meat: A Love Story, sent to me by its publishers over a month ago and which I’m just finishing now. Marketed as a response to ethical questions like the ones I face (i.e., How can a person who likes eating meat do so without guilt?), it got my attention.

And, turns out, there are a lot of good things about this book: a window into many different aspects of the meat industry; the raising of questions many of us (meat-eating or not) may ask; encounters with diverse characters, from cattle ranchers to Inuit whale-hunters in Alaska. But what I’d hoped would be a reasoned approach towards responsibility/action turned out never to cross the line of personal story. It’s interesting, yes. Full of information, yes. You learn new perspectives. But what it isn’t, and this is worth mentioning, is anything beyond that.

Anyway, here’s where I’m at right now with meat: (1) I’m sure I want to take, with open hands, whatever food is given to me by friends, free of special demands, because I love them more than controlling what I eat. (2) And when I cook, rather than cutting meat out of my diet, I am looking for better sources of it—Whole Foods, for example, which has a cruelty-free policy; or, a C.S.A. that could give me the option to buy meat directly from farmers in Illinois.

I’d by lying if I said I didn’t buy ground beef or stew meat at Dominick’s when it’s on sale, like it was last week, but I am trying to move towards better choices, slowly, while still enjoying myself.

This stew, cooked overnight in a crock pot, is the perfect example of why I am still, happily, a carnivore. Marinated with Country Bob’s All Purpose Sauce, covered in chopped vegetables, it practically makes itself. When I pulled out a Tupperware container filled with it for lunch on Tuesday, reheating it in the microwave and bringing a forkful to my mouth, I literally exclaimed, out loud to the office, “Mmm, this is good,” one hand hitting the desk and the other frozen mid-air.

At once juicy and flavorful, rich and hearty, this stew has been as satisfying in the rainy days of early June as it would be in the winter storms of December. The combination of tomato juice and stewed tomatoes with the meat and vegetables creates a dark gravy over the lot of it, further tenderizing and moistening everything, and the marinating in the Country Bob’s sauce creates nuanced flavor throughout. If you’re of the meat-eating type, you’ll want to try this. Soon.

Slow Cooker Stew
Just slightly adapted from CountryBobs.com

In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that Country Bob’s sent me their sauce to review; however, I really would buy it again, if only to make this stew! If you’d like to give it a shot, you can try a bottle for free yourself! Just go here to have a coupon sent your way.

Ingredients:
2 pounds beef stew meat, diced into 1 inch pieces
1/4 cup Country Bob’s All Purpose Sauce (or may substitute Spicy)
1 teaspoon herb seasoning (I used Italian herb seasoning)
5 potatoes
4 carrots
1 yellow onion
3/4 cup tomato juice
1 (14.5 oz) can stewed tomatoes
2 fresh Jalapeno peppers, sliced into rings

Directions:
Prep work (probably the night before): Cut up potatoes and carrots, and slice onions; put them all in a plastic container filled with water and refrigerate overnight. Also, marinate the stew meat with Country Bob’s All Purpose Sauce and herb seasoning in a plastic storage bag. Place in the refrigerator.

The next day: Place the raw beef in the bottom of your crockpot. Drain the veggies and put them on top of the beef. Pour in the stewed tomatoes and tomato juice. If you like your stew a little spicy, add a chopped Jalapeno pepper or two. Cook on low 6 to 8 hours.

If you live anywhere near the Midwest and have had to drive to work every day this week; if you shoveled your driveway Tuesday, then Wednesday, and felt your nose hairs crystallize while you got into your car Thursday; if you (heaven, help you) were on Metra Wednesday morning, in the midst of the gun scare that turned out to be just a misunderstanding; this is for you.

[By the way, if you also, I don’t know, had to go out and buy the biggest, cheapest puffy parka you could find, one with a crazy fur collar and an extra layer of lining underneath, just so you could survive through the rest of your Chicago winter: well, send me an e-mail, would you? I’d like to know I’m not alone.]

Maybe it’s the fact that so many of the storms this year have hit during my commutes to and from work, maybe it’s the fact that I am always, no matter where I am, cold, down to my toes. Whatever the case, I have to tell you something: it’s high time for some comfort food.

[I'm glad to know I'm not alone in this, at least.] Yesterday, @ChicagoBites: “I need comfort food but I don’t want to go out to get it.” Well said. Maybe you feel the same?

This pot roast may not be the prettiest, but it makes up for its modest appearance with a very dependable character: you can really count on this one. The first time I made it, I was in college, I think, home for an extended period of time. It was the kind of meal you make when you’re pretty green in the kitchen, not completely sure of what you’re doing. You make it because it’s easy, with a short list of ingredients and an even shorter list of instructions. You make it again, though, (and again and again) because it’s delicious. Really delicious.

Pot roast, essentially, is as good as it gets this time of year (well, short of a vacation to someplace like Miami, but I digress). It’s warm and hearty, paired with chunks of potatoes and chopped carrots, and it’s tender, succulent, flaky, falling onto your fork and moist with its own gravy.

Because it’s so easy, this is the perfect recipe for a lazy weekend: assemble everything into the crock pot before going to bed and have it ready for the next day, or start it all when you wake up and have a satisfying dinner.

It’s the perfect way to get your comfort food without leaving the house, and, let’s be honest, at least around here, that’s what we all need right now.

Crockpot Pot Roast
Adapted from Fix It and Forget about It

Ingredients:
4 baking potatoes, cut into chunks (halves or quarters)
2 large carrots, cut into large pieces (or a desired amount of baby carrots)
1 onion, thinly sliced
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
3 to 4 pounds pot roast, cut into chunks
1/2 cup water

Directions:
Put vegetables in bottom of crock pot, and stir in salt and pepper. Add chunks of pot roast meat, and then add water.

Cover pot. Cook on low for 10 to 12 hours.

As a child, I counted the days to Thanksgiving. You don’t have to tell me this is unusual. As far as holidays go, most kids would agree Christmas is the best, with its presents, cookies and long break from school. Shopping malls and radio stations also rush to December, bringing out music and promotions just after Halloween.

But, in this holiday’s defense, I offer one word: turkey. Before I was old enough to know how a bird was cooked, I understood that slicing the crispy brown skin of one fresh from the oven would reveal white, tender meat perfect for a week’s worth of sandwiches. Coupled with all the trimmings, Thanksgiving turkey makes a meal worth anticipating. And this year, for the first time, I’d be the one making it.

The star of our feast was an eight-pound turkey breast (because we prefer white meat, and because we’d be out of town, so smaller would be easier) filled with my grandma’s recipe for moist bread stuffing, the most delicious thing I eat every year and so easy, it’s now going to be hard not to run head-first into the StoveTop grocery aisle, grabbing the arms of unsuspecting shoppers, tossing their boxes on the floor, shouting it’s for their own good.

Here’s how it’s done: When you make my grandma’s turkey stuffing, the first thing you must have is bread. If you’re cooking a small bird, or just a breast, you’ll halve her recipe, and so you’ll need a total 12 cups of bread cubes. Any loaf will work, but dry, crusty bread is particularly good for soaking up the sauces, and it’s a great way to make use of days-old bread.





Start by sautéing butter, diced onions, chopped parsley and chopped celery in a small fry pan on medium heat. Leave it like this for a while. (This was where I did some dishes, wiped down the countertops and had another bite of breakfast. You’ll choose your own distractions.) As you go about your business, a buttery fragrance wafts, slow and strong, through the room, heady with cooking onions. The pan will sizzle, air bubbles popping and appearing amidst simmering juices. Stir the mixture around, and you’ll find the ingredients limp, like your arms when you’re dreaming deeply or tulips that are past their prime. At this point, add salt, pepper and a bit of poultry seasoning; then pour in chicken broth. Stir it together, and let the spices soak in until the juices boil again. Then, pour the entire mixture over the bread crumbs, which you’ll have placed in a large bowl.





Stir the bread crumbs swiftly, letting the hot liquids soak into all the crevices, making every dried piece a soaked morsel. It’s best to begin with a large spoon and then, if you’re brave, work everything together with your hands. Strewn between your fingers, the stuffing will feel hot, wet, messy—a lot like a science project you attempted in junior high. When all the bread is thoroughly coated, it’s ready to be stuffed into your turkey breast.

The breast must be defrosted completely, and if some parts still seem frozen, a good rinse in the sink should help. A fringe benefit of using just a breast is that there’s nothing to scoop out—no innards, guts, etc. You’ll see a hollow cavity in back where the stuffing should go. Poke one hand in this side and the other through the neck cavity, and your fingers should meet in the middle. Fill both ends with the bread stuffing, and place the whole thing, breast side up, in a large roasting pan. Massage the turkey generously with olive oil, and add salt and pepper. Tent it with aluminum foil, and put it in the oven: 325 degrees for two hours to begin.

At two hours, remove the foil and add slices of butter all over, letting them melt into your turkey breast and drip down the sides. You can baste it a little, which without a baster means this: lifting one side of the roasting pan with one hand, using a large spoon to scoop juices from the bottom and pouring them over the turkey. Push it back in the oven, sans foil now, for another two hours.

By this point, most of the stuffing had fallen out for me, laying in one big clump just below the breast cavity. That’s fine. In fact, now having eaten the stuffing, I can say maybe this worked to my advantage.





When four total hours have passed, your kitchen like heaven with the smell of roasting meat and savory, soft stuffing in a pillow beside it, pull the roasting pan out of the oven. You’ll make gravy next, to be served with a banquet of other things cooked while waiting for the turkey. For us: peppered mashed potatoes (made by Adam), candied sweet potatoes (cooked on the stove), green bean casserole, Brown N’ Serve rolls and cranberry sauce.





Fresh from this Thanksgiving victory, I can conclude only one thing: back in elementary school, I was ahead of my time.


Caroline’s Stuffing
from my lovely grandma, who taught me to bake

(Halved recipe)
Ingredients:
3/4 cup butter
1/2 cup diced onions
2 Tablespoons chopped parsley
1/2 cup diced celery
1.5 cups chicken broth
1.5 teaspoons poultry seasoning
1.5 teaspoons salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
12 cups dried bread cubes

Directions:
In a medium skillet, cook butter, onions, parsley and celery over medium-low heat. After a while, the mixture will begin to bubble; add the chicken broth. Bring it back to a boil, and add the seasonings and stir. Remove from heat, let cool just a bit and pour the still-warm mixture over the bowl of bread cubes. Stir it around, using your hands if necessary, to thoroughly coat each piece of bread.