Merry Christmas!!! (Recipes are involved)

Merry Christmas eve, all my darlings! 

It will officially be Christmas here in around an hour (probably will be well into Christmas by the time I finish this entry) and I am looking forward to opening the presents I have received from my fantastic boyfriend.

Before I get there, however, I'd like to bring attention back to the dinner that I prepared for my family tonight. Granted, it was a small crowd with a total of five - one of which didn't eat beef - but I thoroughly enjoyed the process.

My mum and I collaborated-ish on the menu, meaning I told her I was making two dishes so she didn't have to cook as much. 

My contributions were:

•Boeuf Bourgignon

•Spinach and onion oven dip

Keep scrolling for the recipes. There are pictures!

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[Stove-Top Boeuf Bourgignon]

Inspired by the one and only Julia Child

Disclaimer: I omitted the cheesecloth and fresh herbs, so have modified the ingredients accordingly. Please do not be overly harsh in your criticisms.

Serves 4-6
Cast of characters from left to right:
• 2 teaspoons of dried thyme (I couldn't find fresh sprigs)
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 kilogram (roughly 2 pounds) of beef chuck steak, trimmed of fat and cut into 2-inch cubes.
• 2 dozen button mushrooms
• 2/3 bottle of pinot noir
• 1/2 white onion, medium to finely diced (Recipe calls for [RCF] shallots, but we didn't have any)
• 1 carrot, cut into triangles (Just slice at an angle as you rotate the carrot)
• 3 sprigs of fresh parsley, coarsely chopped
• 4 slices of bacon
• 1 cup of chicken stock (RCF beef stock, but I opted for the more useful chicken bouillon)
• 2 dozen cherry tomatoes, quartered (RCF tomato paste, but I prefer fresh tomatoes)


Not pictured (because I'm a forgetful nitwit):
• 6 cloves of garlic, smashed and peeled
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Beurre manié, 2 Tbsp of melted butter mixed with 2 Tbsp of flour
• Extra butter for sautéing the mushrooms

I love mise en place. It's something a person grows into. I've very clearly adopted an indescribable adoration of slowly prepping my materials and arranging them so they look all pretty. But look at it. IT'S SO PRETTY.

So pictured here is the smashed cloves of garlic, carrots (peeled and chopped), quartered cherry tomatoes, diced white onions, and roughly chopped parsley. The original recipe calls for 8 sprigs of whole parsley, and demands that the cook shoves it into a small cheesecloth drawstring bag along with 6 cloves of garlic, a few sprigs of fresh thyme, cloves of allspice, and a bay leaf. 

I have access to only two of the above-mentioned ingredients, so I made my own modifications. Sorry, Julia.

This next step is absolutely tedious. I suggest you put on a TV show or listen to a good broadcast while this happens, so you don't end up trying to end your own life by shoving paper towels down your throat. Of course, if you're cooking with company then it's all in good fun, but it's forever alone chef speaking over here.

Pat dry the beef chuck.

Meat apparently won't brown properly if it's not dried, and so I am condemned to long drawn-out, painful moments of trimming fat, sizing down cubes, and then patting them dry with paper towels. 

This is so thankless. I actually feel boredom seeping into my bones just talking about it. The result, however, is a beautiful pile of pat-dried meat cubes enough to make any carnivore swoon.

That's pretty gorgeous. I must say, that's actually kind of worth it.

Next up, is another job that is pretty much equally thankless: brushing off mushrooms. Mushrooms are one of my favorite things on the planet, and I love pretty much everything about them except for cleaning them. 

I used to just throw them under a faucet and let the water rinse off the dirt for me, but - as I acquired more culinary knowledge along the way - I learned that you're not supposed to let mushrooms touch water. They're nature's sponges of the earth, and they soak up water just as easily. So apparently, what you're supposed to do is take a stiff brush or damp paper towel and just brush the dirt off the surface.

Here's a picture of the mushrooms, stems removed and surfaces brushed. One thing I dislike about this method is my sometimes occurring inability to differentiate between patches of dirt and bruised skin, resulting in my removing half the cap in my vigor to clean the darned thing.

Oh well.

Quarter the mushrooms and set aside for (much) later use.

Next order of business involves bacon. Music to my ears. Bacon should be enough to send a thrilling tremor through your body and evoke fantastic aromas in your mind. I, for one, am personally grateful for all the occasions I have had turned to bacon as a cure for hangovers - I am sure many of you can relate. 

Blanch the bacon by submerging it in an inch or two of cold water and bringing it to a boil. This removes the overwhelmingly smokey and salty flavor of the bacon, leaving only a twinge of hickory wood (or whatever tree was used in the process of smoking) to compliment the final flavor of the stew.

Roughly julienne the bacon. While ignoring the leftover parsley on your kitchen knife.

Then turn a hob on full whack, heat up a deep frying pan with just a drizzle of olive oil or butter, and throw the bacon in there.

Toss them around until the fat renders and the bacon bits are reduced to beautiful little brown crisps, then remove the bacon to a larger pot or a dutch oven while leaving the fat behind.

And now, we get down to business. Find your gorgeous 2-inch cubes of pat-dried steak chuck, and then slide them gently into the pan, making sure you're not crowding the meat too much.

Brown the beef on all sides, turning them as frequently as you can remember while you try not to finish all the cheap pinot noir you purchased earlier before even starting to cook with it.

Once the meat is adequately cooked on all sides - it's okay if it's still a little pink since it will be simmering for two freakin' hours - move it to the dutch oven along with the bacon bits.

And move onto your second batch (if you have one) and just drool ever so slightly at the mountains of steak paraded in front of you. But you get the gist - just repeat what you did earlier and try not to pop all the smaller morsels into your mouth. 

When the meat is done, remove it all to the adjoining pan along with all its beautiful meaty companions, and fire up the grill hob. Heat up the remaining grease - add some olive oil of you have to - and throw in the onions first. Then the carrots, then the garlic, and then the tomatoes, all about a minute or two apart from each other.

Aside from the onions, I don't know why everything else came in that specific order.

Toss everything around until the onions are translucent and the tomatoes have released their juices, and bask in the glory of fantastic smells wafting around your house right now. 

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So I might have passed out last night after finishing that sentence and woke up at 10:30 am on Christmas day. Somewhere along there I also Skyped with Elliot, opened, my presents, swooned, and felt very bad about not sending him anything for Christmas.

He has a package about to be on its way, though, so please don't think too horribly of me...

Merry Christmas!

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Once the vegetables have softened to a certain amount, deglaze the pan with red wine, scraping the bottom of the pan gently to remove whatever burnt bits left behind by the bacon and the beef.

Sorry if the picture is slightly tilted - it's not too easy pouring wine with one hand while snapping a photo with the other hand. Especially not when you're 1.) slightly tipsy 2.) handling your camera with your non-dominant hand 3.) in possession of a rather clunky photography apparel.

Once the wine/vegetable concoction is thoroughly caressed and has taken on a somewhat silky texture, it is ready to join the meats in the dutch oven. Do so by pouring the whole thing over in an aromatic frenzy while trying not to drop your camera.

Let that simmer for a little bit (over the lowest heat you can manage) and prepare the stock. Someone more responsible than I would've probably prepared the stock beforehand, but seeing as I almost completely forgot about this step, this is as good as I can do.

The original recipe calls for two cups of beef stock, but my family doesn't really use beef stock, so I got chicken bouillon cubes instead. I also only added one cup because I didn't have enough space for two cups. It worked out, though the liquid ran out quicker than I expected once served - must remember that for next time.

Also must remember to stop using taste-test as excuse to drink half the broth.

Pour in the chicken stock, and start skimming the scum and top-layer of grease while leaving the hob on the lowest setting possible. Because I am a fidgety cook, I didn't leave the stew alone for 2 hours as the recipe called for. But due to my zealous grease-scooping, the finished product was surprisingly clear in texture, but extremely rich and silky in flavor.

Don't forget the parsley too. If you're not such a huge fan of the parsley flavor, then dunk it in very quickly about 10 minutes before the stew is done and remove when serving. I, however, am a MASSIVE fan of parsley, and threw in my chopped up leaves right at the start. The long hours of stewing added another layer to the taste, an almost earthy, pungent mystery that just rolls off your taste buds. Absolutely exquisite.

At around the hour and forty-five minute mark, this is what your stew should look like. Greatly reduced in volume (though the vigorous taste-testing might be to blame for that) and milkier in color.

The beef should be pretty tender by now, so get ready to work on the last two steps before you get to enjoy this beautiful meal.

Melt some butter in a pan.

And throw in the mushrooms you quartered earlier. See? Told you this was for much later use. You're not supposed to crowd the mushrooms, otherwise they don't brown properly, but I was really way too exhausted at this point to attempt to be anal about the details so I just plopped everything into the pan all at once. Please forgive me, oh god of fungi.

While that is browning, go and melt two tablespoons of butter in the microwave and mix it in with two tablespoons of flour. Or at least cut off a knob of butter, heat it, and mix it in with a few pinches of flour. This will thicken the stew and add another beautiful taste of butter.

Once the mushroom has browned enough, toss it in along with the stew and fold it in with the meat.

Turn off the heat, pour in the beurre manié, and fold everything again.

You see how the consistency of the soup is a little thicker? Maybe? Probably not, actually, since I didn't quite add enough beurre manié, but that's good enough.

À table!!!

Pour yourself whatever wine is leftover and serve generous portions of the boeuf bourgignon over rice, or egg noodles, or potatoes, or simply with a piece of bread. Dig in and enjoy.

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Spinach and Onion Oven Dip

Serves 6-8
Cast of Characters:
• 1/2 white onion, diced
• 1 container of cream cheese, room temperature
• 1 bunch of spinach, or a handful of baby spinach if you prefer
• 1 tablespoon of grated parmesan

Set the cream cheese out to room temperature so it will be easier to mix with the other ingredients. In the mean time, chop up half an onion and some spinach leaves and stalks.

Once the mixture is soft enough, remove it from the packaging and transfer to an oven-safe dish. Try to flatten it out as much as possible, and then get very distracted and start making little mountains with a fork. Add in the spinach and onions.

Mix everything in as evenly as you can and set aside. I sprinkled some parmesan on the top for good measure, and then preheated the oven to 150 degrees celsius.

I kept sticking my finger into the dip and licking off the tiny little scrumptious bits of oniony creamy cheese, and it was absolutely sinful.

Look at how pretty the dip looks sitting amongst my mise for the boeuf bourgignon!

Once the oven is heated enough, pop the dip into the bottom rack and leave it in there for about thirty minutes until the top layer starts to brown a little bit and the edges start to bubble.

Remove the dip from the oven and place onto a heat-safe surface.

Once you've put the dip on the table, realize that it looks very bland and proceed to remember that presentation is actually important when it comes to plating, so take crackers and just haphazardly pile onto the top.

One lesson learned from this? Crackers get very soggy when plunged into melted cheese, so leave a spoon on the side to help allocate dip onto saltines.

Bon appetit and Merry Christmas, my loves.