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A Beef with Beef-Broth + a Recipe

January 18, 2015 By Lauren

barebonesI’ve got a bone to pick with you, bone broth.  With a feature in the NY Times, a top position on many a “What’s Hot” list (yes, those still exist), and the success of a broth-centric shop in the East Village (to-go cups! of broth! for 10 US dollars!), it’s safe to say that you are having a moment.  And while I couldn’t be happier that more & more folks are coming to know your nutrient-rich ways, it’s just that, I feel like, you’ve changed.  The same way kale or Tibetan butter tea have changed (yep, I said it. #nutritionistproblems): not in actual, physical make-up, but in public perception, market opinion.  You’ve gone from most humble foodstuff that just so happens to be nourishing, to Super Food, with a capital S and all the ensuing connotations.

Our vision of health tends to be indistinguishable from our vision of attractiveness, of success.  And so, just as the kale smoothies of 2012 promised to make us healthier (skinnier) and as bulletproof coffee (a translation of butter tea) is currently promising to make us healthier (not only skinnier but smarter, too), bone broth is being marketed as panacea for all that ails, and especially those more prioritized ailments like spotty skin, thinning hair, and love handles.

Bones are being valued now, an undoubtedly positive development considering that they were once categorized as “waste” and disposed of accordingly.  However, this positive development is not without its complications.  Bones are, after all, a Super Food now, and, as with kale, the price of bones seems to rise according to the level of “health-consciousness” of the community.  In Geneva, most bones (even ones from grass-fed, consciously-raised cows) are free.  In Vancouver, a pound of bones (and not necessarily marrow or meaty ones) could cost up to 12 Canadian dollars.  Thus, (in a profoundly ironic turn of events) bone broth becomes a food, not of economy, but of privilege (10 dollar to-go cups!).  This is exclusionary and just not cool.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I love bone broth.  I more than love it.  I L-U-R-V-E it. (See this love letter detailing why).  Nothing brings me more joy than converting the uninitiated to the way of the bone.  I truly believe it plays an important role in a balanced, nourishing diet, as well as in a more sustainable system of animal husbandry.  Coincidentally, it’s also delicious and the addition of broth to something as simple as a pot of rice is nothing short of miraculous.

I’m just wary of our tendency to position certain foods within a kind-of exalt/abase cycle (See: soy, agave nectar, wheat bran, etc.).  Firstly, because it’s exhausting.  Secondly, because every person’s dietary needs are different according to their lifestyle, their physical, mental and spiritual constitution, and their geographic location.  And thirdly, because I believe that in order to really heal what ails us–yes, even love handles and spotty skin–we need to bring nourishment into our lives from many directions, not just from one to-go cup.

And so I leave you with my recipe for beef-broth.  One based on traditions, on creating something (a food) out of nothing (a formerly inedible substance); liquid sunshine from bare bone.

soakedboneoxtail

This broth won’t make you skinnier, or smarter or “healthier” in our entangled sense of the word.  But it will, if you let it, nourish you.  And, alongside other nourishing practices like, for example, self-love, gratitude, 64oz of water every day, interpretative dance, it can, eventually, contribute toward healing in whatever form that takes for you.

brothy

Beef Bone Broth

Notes:

The steps in making beef broth are quite similar to those in making chicken broth.  If you’re a broth beginner, I’d recommend reading through my post of chicken broth & broth-making essentials here.

As always, the goal here is to get your broth to gel.  Attending to steps #1 & #8 will ensure that all is gel-tastic.

#1.  Use cartilaginous bones.

Collagen, which is found in cartilaginous bones like the joints, neck, head and feet, renders gelatin.  For beef broth, if I can get my paws on one, I use a portion of a calf’s foot.  If not, other cartilaginous bones work (almost) just as well.

#2.  Use bones with some meat on them.

This won’t affect the gelatin content of your broth, but it will increase its flavor immensely.  I usually use a small portion of oxtail, as it can be quite meaty and is less pricey than ribs or the like.

#3.  Use marrow bones.

This also won’t affect the gelatin content of your broth, but it will add many nutritious delights.  Marrow is an excellent source of omega 3 fatty acid, which is essential for brain-health, of the amino acid glycine, which helps make and repair proteins, and is a complete form of vitamin A, which is an important catalyst for many, many biochemical processes and a powerful antioxidant.

#4.  Add vegetable scraps (if you have them) or even whole vegetables.

Bone broth is a great way to make use of kitchen “waste”–onion skins, garlic skins, ends of carrots, potato peelings.  If you’re making broth weekly, you can store these in the fridge.  Otherwise, freeze them for later use.

Whole cloves of garlic, halved onions, halved potatoes all add flavor to your broth.

#5.  Place the bones (except the meaty ones) in a large stockpot.  Fill to the top with cold water and 1/4 cup of apple cider vinegar.  Let sit for an hour.

The vinegar helps to draw out the minerals from the bones.

#6. While the other bones are soaking, brown your meaty oxtail bones in the oven.

This will add complexity to your broth’s flavor.  I usually do this at around 400F for 15 minutes.

#7. Add meaty bones to the pot.  Turn heat on medium-high.  When the liquid starts to roll, turn down heat immediately to low. At this point, there will be a good amount of foam on the surface of your broth.  Skim, skim, skim.

This foam contains surface impurities and will negatively affect the flavor of your broth.

#8.  Simmer, simmer, simmer.

I usually cook my beef broth for 24 hours +.  You can keep it cooking for up to 72 hours, but I find that this can be tricky & my broth usually gels after a good 24.

#9.  Let cool in pot, then strain and pour into sterilized glass jars.

These keep in the fridge for 4-5 days.  A layer of fat will form at the top of your cooled broth.  This helps preserve your broth and can also be used to, say, fry an onion, or cook an egg.

You can freeze your broth for later use.  Frozen broth will last indefinitely, it would seem.  I’ve experimented with freezing in glass jars, but have had inconsistent results–with the glass shattering more often than not.  I now use plastic bags, letting the broth cool completely before transferring it.

#10.  Don’t waste the meat or marrow!

You’ve just slow-cooked oxtail for 24+ hours.  Save this & use it on a sandwich, or in a taco.

Same goes for marrow.  You can spread it on bread, mix it with butter, or top a baked potato with a spoonful of it.

Filed Under: Animal, Beef, Kitchen Essentials, Recipes, Winter Tagged With: beef, bonebroth, nourishing, traditionalfoods, wapf

Let’s Get Ready to (Apple/Pear) Crumble

January 7, 2015 By Lauren

I like baking, but baking doesn’t always like me.  Soups like me, braised meats love me, roasted veggies and I would probably be engaged if I wasn’t already taken, but I just feel like breads and pastries don’t really get me.  The me that prefers dashes and pinches to quantifiable units of measurement.  The me that hasn’t faithfully followed a recipe since 2008.  The me that is too laid-back (read: lazy) to ensure that I am adding exactly 1 and 1/4 cups of flour, to knead for exactly 15 (15!) minutes, to bake for no more and no less than 45 minutes at exactly 375 degrees F without opening the oven ever, not even once, just to check.

That’s not to say that baking and I haven’t had our moments.  There were those two pumpkins pies for Thanksgiving in Oakland, that spelt chocolate birthday cake with raw-milk whipped-cream, those cardamom buns made outside of Stockholm (with a lot of help from a Swede).

Oh, and there have always been crumbles.  That cherry crumble with Kasia and Annabel last July, the first blueberry crumble I ever made many Augusts ago in Maine, and this apple and pear crumble I’ve been making almost every couple of weeks this season.

crumblin

crumbs

Crumble gets me.  In fact, I think it’s safe to say, crumble gets all of us.  Unlike its other baked counterparts (I’m looking at you, pie), crumble is as unfussy, as forgiving as the most simple desserts–fresh strawberries and cream, raw-milk-yogurt and honey–and as satisfying.  All you need are rolled oats, some butter, something sweet (honey, sugar, maple syrup), whatever fruit you have on hand, and an oven.  You don’t even really need a plate.

fauxbaker

Gleaning from Gleaning

A few weeks ago, while on a walk a bit outside of Geneva, L & I came across an apple field.  The apple season had ended–the farmers had finished picking weeks ago–, but, still, many red and green delights hung from the branches.  In Switzerland, as in much of Europe, there is a tradition of gleaning (See: Agnes Varda’s film Les glaneurs et la glaneuse, or this painting by Jean Francois Millet.), or free-range for all peoples on the odds & ends of a harvest.  Historically, gleaning belonged to the peasant class, and was protected as their right to collect what was unwanted.  A lot has changed since peasant-times, but gleaning remains a protected practice for those still wanting to make use of the unwanted, the “waste”.  Those with a limited budget and a bit of free time.  Those wishing to connect to the source of their food.  And for those crumble-lovers on a Sunday stroll.

There are communities of dedicated gleaners here, folks who know the window for gleaning each local crop.  I met one particularly spirited gleaner, or shall I say glaneuse, at our neighborhood farmer’s market.  In her late 70s and towering over a card-table with few contents–a couple bags of dried herbs, five jam jars of various sizes and hues, a half-empty (half-full?) paper bag of some sad-looking quinces–this glaneuse, let’s call her Diana (Diana wants nothing to do with the internet, preferring to remain fully in the corporeal world), had produced all her table’s contents through gleaning.  In fact, you could even say that she gleaned her place into the farmer’s market, an unofficial vendor of earthly delights who often disappears in the blink of an eye, or at the sight of the market patrol.

I had hopes to meet with Diana to find out more about her life, to learn the secret of her seabuckthorn jam, but the day we were supposed to meet (at an undisclosed location where she would build a fire for roasting chestnuts, if we brought the chestnuts) was too windy for fires and, well, for her, that was that.

I think the real reason baking and I don’t jive is because I’m often seeking immediate results, instant gratification.  Mind you, this gratification is usually something like learning the best place to forage for Linden leaves, or being able to knit the perfect pair of socks on my first attempt, but it’s still the same emphasis on results, on future good as opposed to present process.  I’m new to Switzerland, and it’s okay for me to get to know this place bit by bit, bird by bird, one gleaned apple, like one loaf of bread, one kind of pie, at a time.

apple

crust

Print
Apple Pear Crumble

You don't really need to measure anything here. Crumble is one of those things, like pancakes, that once you get down the basic ratio, it's okay to eye it. If I have less butter, I use less butter. If I don't have butter, I use ghee. Experiment! And post your findings here.

Ingredients

  • Around 100grams or 1 stick of grass-fed butter, room temperature
  • Around 1/2 cup of Rapadura sugar
  • Around 1 cup rolled oats
  • Pinch salt
  • Two handfuls of small, tart apples, sliced thinly
  • Two sweet & soft pears, like Comice, sliced thinly

Directions

  1. Heat oven to 350F. Mix butter and sugar together in a bowl and cream with a fork. This usually takes a few minutes. Add rolled oats and salt and mix well.
  2. Line a pie plate, a cast-iron skillet, or a big sheet of tinfoil with the apples and pears, layering them alternately (one layer of apples, one of pears). The pears should be far juicer than the apples and will give them some moisture. You could grate some cinnamon over the fruit, or squeeze a bit of lemon, or add nothing at all.
  3. Pour crumble mixture on top of fruits. Bake for 45 minutes, until crumble is golden brown.

Crumble will keep for 4 days if sealed.

3.1

 

baked

Any other gleaners out there?

Filed Under: Desserts, Fruit, Recipes, Winter Tagged With: apples, baking, crumble, desserts, pears, winter

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