Tag Archive: Red meat

We joke about the ubiquitousness of dulce de leche here, wondering when the first restaurant is going to offer up a steak or innards with some sort of caramel sweet sauce preparation. But we often don’t think about how much we use sweet ingredients in our own cooking, wherever we may be from. Sometimes it’s fruit, sometimes it’s honey or sugar. It might be a sweet and sour or sweet and spicy sauce – but the Argentines wouldn’t be the first to cross that line in the sugar sand.

Even in my own culinary background the use of chocolate and/or cocoa is not unheard of. A touch of powdered cocoa in pasta, especially with a game or mushroom dish, is not uncommon in Italian cooking. On the American Jewish side we’ve got our version of the classic German pumpernickel, chock-ful of cocoa and molasses to give it that dark, rich color and hint of sweetness and bitterness all in one. South of our border our Mexican neighbors have been adding cocoa or chocolate to dishes for eons, the most famous being some of the varieties of moles on offer.

I have yet, however, to encounter an Argentine recipe making use of either cocoa or chocolate in a savory dish. That’s not to say they don’t exist and I’m up for hearing about them, I just haven’t encountered them. But I could see a bit of either being added to a classic regional stew like a locro or carbonada. Some experimentation is in order, no doubt.

With the New Year holiday coming up this week, I thought I’d trot out a favorite holiday dish from the Sardinian repertoire. Bistecchine di Cinghiale – Wild Boar Steaks in a Sweet-Sour Sauce – is one that goes back to antiquity, in the days when it was its own kingdom. Okay, not really, since cocoa beans weren’t introduced to Europe until well past that period, but it goes back awhile, like maybe the mid-19th century. Now, not all of us have a source of wild boar – jabaliacute; – here, and since I rarely find it, or when I do it’s prohibitively expensive, I make this dish with thick steaks cut from the bondiola – the pork shoulder (or on the American side, called the pork butt). The flavour’s not as intense, nor, obviously, gamey, but it’s delicious nonetheless.

Bistecchine di Cinghiale – Wild Boar Steaks in a Sweet-Sour Sauce

1 kg boar steaks (pork shoulder steaks can be substituted)
6 tablespoons olive oil
250 gm bacon, finely chopped\
salt
4 tablespoons sugar
4 bay leaves
300 ml red wine vinegar
100 gm yellow raisins, seedless if available
100 gm pitted prunes or apricots
100 gm dark chocolate, grated
pinch of cinnamon and/or nutmeg
4 teaspoons flour

Saute the bacon in oil over low heat. Brown the steaks in the olive oil on both sides, sprinkle with the salt and leave to cook gently for 15 minutes.

In a saucepan put the sugar, bay, and 2/3 of the vinegar and cook, stirring, over low heat until the sugar has dissolved. Add the fruit, chocolate and spice and cook until the sauce has thickened, about 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, mix the flour with the remaining vinegar and pour over the steaks, continue cooking 10 more minutes.

Add in the sauce and cook 10 minutes more, turning regularly to keep the steaks well coated. Serves four as a main course.

I recommend serving the dish with a side of gnocchi or, if you want to get more authentic, you could, perhaps, find the classic Sardinian malloreddus pasta – though unlikely, I’ve not seen it here, however, I do see cassareccia pasta here which is pretty similar and will work just fine.

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

Tastes like chicken. You know that’s not true, everyone says that to try to get you to eat something different in the lighter meat category. I’ve taken to telling people it tastes like cuy, or guinea pig, a delectable treat throughout the lands of our neighbors to the northwest in Peru. It kind of gets the point across. When it comes down to it, rabbit tastes like, well, rabbit.

With spring firmly arrived, rainstorms and all, the annual season of blackouts already beginning (last year our part of Recoleta got to 19 of them, ranging between 2 hours and 3 days, this week we launched in with a 2-1/2 day stretch already), we’re cooking with gas, on the grill, and by flashlight (for lighting purposes, not cooking, a decidedly ineffective method I’m sure). It’s rabbit cooking time.

If you’ve never cooked with rabbit, the thing to know is that it’s really, really lean. It’s probably got a BMI that would make Kate Moss seem rubenesque. As such, you need to consider a couple of things – adding fat to the dish, and cooking time. The latter has to be either very quickly – usually for the rabbit loin section, or long and slow, for the other joints. I generally find that the best bet is a braise or low heat saute that goes long enough to tenderize the meat.

One of my favorite dishes is based on a Piemontese classic – Coniglio Con la Peperonata. For those of you just not up to trying rabbit (but really, give it a try, it’s delicious), this dish can be made with chicken – it won’t be the same, rabbit and chicken really don’t taste alike, though they’re both mild, but it will still be a tasty dish.

Rabbit with Sweet Peppers

1 1-kg rabbit
60 gm smoked bacon, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh rosemary leaves stripped from the stalk
4 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 fresh bay leaves
250 ml chicken broth
salt and pepper

Cut the rabbit in serving pieces – usually that means cutting six pieces – cut across the body at the front and back of the loin and rib section, then cut each of the three sections in half down the middle. Saute the bacon and rosemary in a mix of the butter and olive oil, then add the rabbit pieces and cook until browned. Add the bay leaves and stock, salt and pepper to taste, and let simmer over low heat for 35 minutes, turning the pieces occasionally. Move to a serving platter.

While the rabbit is simmering:

3 red or yellow bell peppers or a mix
4 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
3 oil-packed anchovies
2 cloves garlic, chopped
handful of parsley, chopped
4 tablespoons red wine vinegar
salt and pepper

Warm the butter with the anchovies and stir until they dissolve. Add the peppers and raise the heat and cook until they’re starting to get limp. Add the garlic, parsley, and vinegar and cook until the vinegar has just evaporated. Season to taste. Pour over the rabbit pieces.

Now, although there are six serving pieces here, a one kilogram rabbit divided six ways, after factoring out the bones, isn’t a whole lot, so I generally recommend figuring on two pieces per person, though that obviously depends on what else you’re serving for dinner. Or, perhaps a light lunch, where one piece may well be enough.

What to drink with this? In Piemonte we’d be downing a bottle of Barbera or a lighter Nebbiolo with it. Neither is common here – the only Nebbiolo I know of produced in Argentina is the excellent one from Familia Cecchin of Maipú, if you can lay your hands on a bottle. There are a few Barberas around, and several blended with other grapes, a perennial favorite is from Famila Adrover in Lujan de Cuyo. Or, a lighter Bonarda, there are many to choose from.

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

Now that warm weather, maybe even hot weather, has established a firm footing for the year here in BA it’s time to start thinking about lighter dishes that fit that springtime atmosphere. Just two weeks ago I was writing about slow braised lamb shoulder and here I’m about to write about lamb again. After all, I promised in that column that I’d share a recipe for a delicious little spring lamb salad.

Actually, the original recipe more often features leg of kid, or goat, than lamb, but both work beautifully and certainly the leg of lamb is easier to find here. And, goat is a leaner, healthier meat for you, so if you can find it, I highly recommend using it for this dish.

Now I’m not going to claim full credit for this. In Sicilian tradition there’s a classic goat and almond stew called capretto con le mandorle or capretto alle mandorle – “goat with/and almonds”. A few years back New York chef Mario Batali decided to lighten it up and come up with a barbecued goat dish that featured some of the same flavors, but serve it up as a room temperature or just slightly warm salad for summertime. My version is based on his, though he goes the route of slow cooking the whole leg of goat or lamb off to the side of the grill, with indirect heat and slicing it afterwards. And some adjustments in ingredients that I like better.

I do recommend getting yourself in the mood by heading over to YouTube and searching out Jack Strachey’s Lambs in Clover – you’ll be ready to head right to the grill, or stove-top, and start cooking this up. Promise.

Grilled Goat (or Lamb) Salad

Meat:

1 kg leg of goat or lamb (without bone), sliced into serving pieces
1 bunch of mint
2 sprigs of rosemary
6 cloves garlic
2 tablespoons each of coarse salt and cracked black pepper
150 ml olive oil

Blend all ingredients except the meat together to form a smooth paste. Coat the slices of meat in it and leave to marinate for at least two hours – even better if you can leave it overnight.

Fire up your grill or your stove-top bifera or cast iron griddle and get it nice and hot. Cook the meat to your preference – personally I recommend medium rare to medium, no more than that – just be careful not to take it to the point where it gets tough.

Salad:

2 lemons
2 oranges (preferably navel oranges)
75 ml olive oil
1 tablespoon each of salt and cracked black pepper
2 bunches of arugula, washed and shaken dry

Slice the citrus fruits very thinly, remove the seeds, and toss with the olive oil, salt and pepper. Let sit for an hour. Just before you’re ready to serve, toss these on the grill or griddle and let them get just a little bit of charring on all sides.

Spread the arugula out on a serving platter and top with the citrus slices and the pieces of goat or lamb. The dish can be served while the meat is still hot, or left to sit and let the juices commingle, and serve it warm or room temperature.

Pesto:

150 grams almonds (whole or slivered), toasted
20-25 green olives, pitted
1 fresh hot chili
juice of one orange
60 ml olive oil

Blend all pesto ingredients until nice and smooth. Serve dollops over the top of the meat. Feel free to adjust the spiciness with either an extra chili, or if you want less, remove the seeds from the chili already noted.

If I may, I’m going to also recommend a wine with this dish – a fantastic match with a well chilled Syrah/Shiraz or Tempranillo rosado. If you must go full on red, stick with the same grapes but give the wine just a short period chill, maybe 30 minutes in the refrigerator, before serving. Enjoy your spring picnic!

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

Spring has sprung, more or less, the temperature is doing the montaña rusa and the rains they be a falling. Yeah, that’s spring here in BA. One day it’s t-shirt and shorts, the next it’s sweaters and umbrellas. One day it’s ceviche on the patio, the next it’s a bowl of hearty, steaming stew.

In the kitchen, spring is all about bunnies and lambs. Or maybe that’s some sort of proverb. All I know is that once summer rolls around, it’s rare that I’m going a rustic dish of lamb, though, perhaps as the weather warms we’ll come back around to it with a delicious summer dish of thin slices with green olive tapenade, all over a citrus and arugula salad. Remind me about that down the line.

Let’s talk a little bit about sheep. There are a variety of different terms, depending on what part of the English speaking world you’re from. The three most basic are lamb, hogget and mutton, in that order – which are defined by their teeth. Yes, I know, you thought it had something to do with age, and, in some places it may. Or may not. Classically, a lamb has yet to have any “permanent incisors”, in other words, the tooth fairy has yet to visit. A hogget has, at most, two visits from said winged pixie, and a mutton has had more than two.

But, for example, in my home country of the U.S., by law, all of them are called lamb, or at least when they’re served on a plate. It doesn’t mean no one ever serves up a “mutton chop”… chefs are such mavericks. And even among the lambs there is variation – milk-fed lamb, lechon, is unweaned, less than 8 weeks old, and weighs in under 8 kilos; while spring lamb is 3-5 months old, and, not surprisingly, has to have been born in spring.

All too confusing and far less interesting than simply cooking one up, no? This week we’re going to look at a slow cooked lamb dish inspired by a traditional braise from our neighbors to the west in Chile, where typically it’s a way of using the garrón or antebrazo, or, the “forearms” that otherwise tend to end up tossed into stockpots for making broth. In our version, we’re using lamb shoulder, or paleta de cordero, though this will work with lamb leg as well.

Slow Braised Lamb Shoulder

1 kilo of lamb shoulder (weight without bone, so roughly a 2.5 kg shoulder)
1 large onion
3 cloves of garlic
1 tablespoon merkén (a Chilean dried pepper, if not available, use hot paprika – pimentón picante)
250 ml white wine
200 ml carton tomato puree
2 sprigs of rosemary
1.5 liters stock (lamb, beef, vegetable – from “cubes” is fine)
20 ml olive oil
salt and pepper
A choice here – you can have your butcher cut the shoulder into serving pieces if you like, or you can simply remove all the meat from the bones and cook this dish without them. You’ll get a richer braise with the bones in the pot, but, you’ll need a bigger pot.

Heat the oil in a stew pot big enough to hold all the lamb pieces. Brown the lamb pieces on all sides and then set them aside in a bowl for the moment. Add the onion and garlic to the pot and cook until lightly browned. Add the tomato puree and chili and cook for 3 minutes, stirring regularly. Add the wine and cook for about 5 minutes to blend the flavors.

Add the lamb pieces back in and top off with the stock – just enough to reach the same level as the lamb. Bring to a simmer, reduce the heat to a minimum, cover the pot and let it cook for about 2½ to 3 hours, until the lamb is completely tender.

Ladle out about 500 ml of the stock into a separate small pan, preferably a wider one, and place it over high heat – we’re just going to evaporate and concentrate the liquid down to become a rich sauce. When it’s the consistency of a nice gravy, reduced by about 2/3, season it to taste.

While the folks on the other side of the mountain typically serve their braised lamb with either potato or squash purees, much the same side dishes we see here, our favorite is to serve it up with a puré rustico of cauliflower – simply simmering the florets from a medium sized head of cauliflower in salted water until soft and then blending it in blender or food processor with a clove of garlic, a handful of chives, a small tomato, and oft-times, a slice or two of cooked bacon, salt and pepper to taste of course. Add some green vegetable if you like – quickly sauteed green beans are a family fave.

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

This last week I was listening to an NPR broadcast online, an interview with Eugene Gagliardi, the inventor of the Steak-Umm (and other “convenience foods”), that pale imitation of a lunch steak. It got me thinking – a couple of years ago, here in Argentina, the local Heritage Commission declared a new range of food items that were considered “emblematic” of porteño culture. Those of us who live here in our adopted country have become used to offbeat claims in casual conversation by many a local that one plate or another is Argentine in origin. Often, these dishes are ones that anyone who travels the globe or explores the world of food knows existed elsewhere in the world long before Argentina had anything but a native, indigenous cuisine. But this wasn’t some guy at the local kiosk, this was an official government announcement.

The one that generated the most controversy at the time among my circle of friends was the milanesa a la napolitana, that ubiquitous local version of a weiner schnitzel topped with ham, cheese, and a bit of tomato sauce. Much of the controversy came from the juxtaposition of “milanesa” (from Milan) and “napolitana” (from Naples). The milanesa part is easy, pounded thin, breaded and fried slices of beef or veal are called cotoletta alla milanesa in Italy, or, a “Milan style cutlet”, and have been since before the first Italian set foot on South American soil.

While the name “a la Napolitana” is both claimed locally to come from the idea of Neapolitan pizza or from a restaurant called El Napolitano that existed in the 1940s over by Luna Park; most likely this is a simple renaming of the classic Neapolitan saltimbocca alla Sorrentina – pounded thin, floured or breaded, fried slices of veal topped with Parma ham, mozzarella, and a fresh tomato sauce. The dish has been around since long before anyone from Sorrento headed to Argentina. Who knows, maybe that’s where the owners of El Napolitano were from?

One can even look at things like schnitzel “cordon bleu”, a dish dating back to some unknown time in the history of L’Ordre des Chevaliers du Saint Esprit, the organization of knights famed for their luxurious banquets since 1578… this dish a breaded cutlet topped with a thin slice of ham and melted cheese – only missing that bit of tomato sauce.

But regardless, it’s a favorite lunch, there are even restaurants dedicated to nothing but differing versions of the milanesa. And, while we may not fire up the grill just to make a casual meal, we’re quite happy to throw a couple of these lunch steaks into a pan and make our own version – generally without the breading and frying part, though trust me, we’re not going to stop you if that’s your preference. This version, a favorite here at home, is based on a traditional scallopini from Umbria.

Umbrian Veal Scallops

4 large veal scallops (milanesas de ternera)
5 cloves of garlic
1 small onion, chopped
1 small bunch basil
4 sprigs oregano
4 leaves of mint
1 sprig rosemary
¼ teaspoon dry mustard
2 salted anchovies
juice of 4 lemons
4 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper

Season the veal with salt and pepper and saute in olive oil. The remaining ingredients are pounded together in a mortar, or, in modern day, pulsed in a food processor or blender to form a sauce. Add the sauce to the pan and cook just enough to warm it. Adjust the seasoning with more salt and pepper if needed. Serve the veal slices with the sauce spooned over them, and a nice green salad on the side. Serves 4.

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.