ad hoc at home #4: braised short ribs

Who can resist braised short ribs on any five-star menu? Not only was I sure that the braised short ribs recipe in Thomas Keller's ad hoc at home would be oh-so-good in and of itself, these short ribs were the precursor to two other delicious-sounding recipes. The only problem was that making just the braised short ribs themselves was a two-day process, presuming you make your beef stock from scratch as prescribed.

It was daunting, but it proved a great excuse to invest in the Le Creuset Dutch oven, and I had just spotted one in Cassis (a Sur La Table exclusive rich, purple color) that I just had to have.

Before we get to the Dutch oven, though, day one starts with making the beef stock. Making beef stock Keller-style starts with roasting "meaty" beef bones on high heat for 45 minutes to develop color and flavor. Then there is 6 more hours of simmering and continuous skimming (off fat and impurities for a clear broth), adding charred onion early on, then adding roasted vegetables and herbs for the last hour. Finally, a little rest, twice straining (second time through cheesecloth), and voila, I have a deep, rich beef broth that turns into gelatinous goodness when refrigerated. Phew! Day one was a long, exhausting day on my feet. I need to get a lighter ladle if I'm going to do more marathon skimming.

Now back to the beautiful, brand new Dutch oven. Day two starts with many of the same vegetables and herbs that finished off the beef stock - leeks, carrots, onions, thyme, bay leaves - to flavor the wine sauce, as well as shallots, smashed garlic cloves and mushrooms. It was quite a colorful and fragrant combination:

Per instruction, I added a full bottle of very drinkable red wine, and let it simmer for half an hour while I seasoned, dredged in flour and seared off the short ribs. I added more vegetables, built a cheesecloth nest, laid the short ribs in the nest, topped it off with the beef stock, covered it with a parchment lid, and popped it into the preheated oven.

Two hours later, I strained and simmered the sauce while the beef rested, and then served the braised short rib with a simple salad and plain rice. I, my husband, and a few of our closest friends, were rewarded for my two-day effort with undoubtedly the best short ribs we had ever tasted.

That is correct, they were better than any restaurant short ribs we had before. They were so good, I exerted the effort again a couple weeks later, making sure to braise extra short ribs to use a second day. If I was going to put in two days, I was going to get two dinners out of it!

ad hoc at home #2 and #3: crispy braised chicken thighs and creamed baby spinach

What better day to put in some effort in the kitchen than Valentine's Day. On the other hand, you want to enjoy the day with your special someone, preferably with a delicious dinner to share. Mark and I have long since stopped going to restaurants on this day for overpriced, mass produced food. Usually one or the other of us cooks, and then is too exhausted to do much apart from watching TV as the other one cleans. As a testament to the evolution of our relationship to the point where we can share the kitchen (which was not always the case), we decided to cook together. It was brilliant, and I wish we could have come up with the idea years ago.

Mark and I decided to each tackle a single recipe from ad hoc at home. I chose a relatively uncomplicated main course, and he chose an uncharacteristically complicated side dish ... so we were even.

I made crispy braised chicken thighs with lemon and fennel. It was supposed to include olives, but I don't like how olives overpower other flavors I love, so I left them out. You'll find me taking just such artistic license with recipes often because if there's something Mark and I know well, it is what we like to eat.

For this recipe, I learned how to cut fennel into "batons" (I normally slice the bulb into uneven, unmanageable open rings). I also learned that by browning the chicken skin side down to a crisp, and then braising it skin side up, you can achieve braised chicken with a crispy skin.

Like I said, it was a pretty straightforward recipe considering its source.

Mark took on the creamed baby spinach, which seems like it should be simple enough ... not. Like many of his recipes, it was two recipes in one. He had to first learn to make a Mornay Sauce, one of Keller's "basic" sauces involving five herbs and spices, diced onions, butter, flour, milk and heavy cream, some cheese we don't normally keep in the house (Comte or Emmentaler), and 35-40 minutes of stirring. This is all before you cook and strain the spinach, mix it in with the Mornay Sauce, bake it, and then broil it.

To be fair, we left out the cheese because we didn't feel like combing the extensive cheese counter for these specific cheeses. Still it took Mark about the same amount of time to make the spinach as I did to make the braised chicken, so at least the timing turned out nicely. It really was the best creamed spinach we've ever had, but I'm not sure I could get Mark to make it again.

We washed it all down with one of our favorite Rieslings.

And finished the dinner with my first ever chocolate souffles, from a recipe I saw on Gordon Ramsay's The f Word (the "f" stands for food). For this triumph, I had to do a lot of metric to U.S. customary conversions, and learn to make corn flour from corn starch and flour. The corn flour thickens the milk to a "yogurty" texture, the result being a "creme patissiere" (yes, lots of learning happened that day). After 3-4 minutes of stirring, I wasn't sure "yogurty" was an accurate description, and just when I was about ready to give up on achieving the desired texture, it happened. It really took on the texture of yogurt.

Then came the chopped chocolate, egg yolks, whip the egg whites with the superfine (=caster) sugar, load the batter into buttered ramekins pre-sprinkled with grated chocolate, and tada!

Okay, after the prescribed 6-8 minutes, it wasn't quite ready. But given 5 more minutes, tada!

There may have been a more impressive rise had I not disturbed them when they were not ready, but they were deliciously decadent with a very gooey center, and Mark said this was how he wished all restaurants served their chocolate souffles, so I declare victory.

ad hoc at home #1: buttermilk fried chicken

Eating at French Laundry is a "once-in-a-lifetime" experience, which Mark and I experienced twice last year. After years of skepticism, I chanced upon a reservation (cute story for later), and after the first meal, I easily became one of their biggest fans (so much so that we went back 6 months later and brought a larger party with us). So it was only fitting that one of my foodie friends gave me Thomas Keller's new cookbook, ad hoc at home, as a holiday gift.

Keller waxes poetic about how this book is about home cooking and "family meals," even signing our copy to "Alice & Mark, It's all about family, Thomas Keller." So I decided to embark on a modified Julie Powell-esque journey to try as many recipes as I can and blog about them. But I'm doing it without a deadline or a promise to make every recipe, because I am fully aware of the challenge.

If you know anything about Thomas Keller, you can imagine his idea of home cooking is not anyone else's idea of home cooking. Unlike Julia Child, Ina Garten, Martha Stewart, Nigella Lawson, or the slew of other celebrity chefs that attempt to make their recipes accessible to the average American cook, Keller is unapologetically uncompromising about the techniques, the number of steps (lots of cross-referencing to brines, stocks and other base components you need to prepare prior to carrying out the recipe you intend), and particularly the time, necessary to create the desired flavors. The only area he seems relaxed about is presentation.

So I'm taking it slow, one week at a time - only wise considering most of the recipes are two-day affairs. Yet I think if I am as meticulous as I can be in following the instructions, it will all work out.

For the buttermilk fried chicken, it did all work out, in the end. Becoming all-consumed and pressed for time the day of cooking and eating, I wound up with only one picture of the chicken - raw, after being cut into pieces, but before going into the brine.

In the picture there are only eight pieces when there are supposed to be ten. We realized right after snapping this picture that we were also supposed to separate the drumstick from the thigh (no, this is not even Keller's eight-piece cut, which has separated drumstick and thigh, but without the breast cut in half). So we promptly separated the drumstick and thigh. We took this picture because it was an ordeal just to get this far, a process which taught us that regular kitchen shears are not poultry shears, and that we really should get a pair of poultry shears before we try this recipe again.

My chicken was too big (I used 1 5-lb chicken instead of 2 3-lb chickens as recommended because that is what they had at the farmers market that week), and so I brined for just a bit longer than the prescribed 12 hours, and fried for a minute or two longer than suggested for each piece. Luckily Mark was able to find the temperature-controlled deep fryer from our college days, so I didn't have to bother with maintaining temperature with a pot, flame, and thermometer. Even so, at least half the flour mixture and a good amount of canola oil ended up on the floor and my apron before all was fried and done. Just as well since the use of 1 bigger chicken instead of 2 smaller ones meant I had less surface area to coat anyway.

The result was VERY tasty fried chicken that is definitely worth making again. Crispy and flavorful on the outside; juicy, perfectly seasoned, and lemony (which was unusual, but refreshing) on the inside. I wish I had a picture to show, but it was so delicious we couldn't help but dig in even before the last pieces were fried.