Braise (v):
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fry (food) lightly and then stew it slowly in a closed container.
Good evening! Tonight, let’s talk braising. There are a lot of similarities between braising and stewing, but the main difference is in the amount of liquid used. When you stew, the meat must be pretty much submerged, whereas a braise uses quite a bit less. Many also say that a stew uses smaller chunks of meat, while a braise uses large cuts. Which doesn’t make sense, because if you want to make a stew with things like beef shank or short ribs, you wanna get those bones in there so they can give up all that goodness.
Anyway, let’s talk about the technique while I share some photos of a recent braise I did of beef shanks.
Step One: Meet the Meat
Braising was invented as a way to use tough cuts of meat—meat with a lot of connective tissue all up in it. When you braise, you essentially take these tough cuts of meat, partially cover them with some sort of liquid, and cook at a low temperature for a long long time until those connective tissues break down and the meat becomes very tender. Coq au vin, for example, was developed by French peasants to cook the chickens and roosters who became to old to lay or do their rooster duties. As such, their meat was extremely tough. The most popular cuts of meat for this are beef chuck, and pork shoulder. Other popular cuts which are used are beef shank, lamb shank, short ribs, and possibly the sweetest, oxtail. The long cooking time breaks down all that collagen in the connective tissue and turns it into gelatin. This is why a good braise is nice and sticky on your lips. Here, I have some beef shanks all seasoned and ready for browning. Note all that yummy marrow in the bones.
Step Two: Brown thy meat.
The initial step to a braise is all about building the flavor. In your pan, heat up a little bit of vegetable oil to a very high heat. Lay your meat and let fry at that high temperature until you get a very nice browned crust on the outside. (Something-something-Maillard reaction, as the foodies say). This will also start to leave brown bits stuck to the bottom of the pan—fond. This is the basis for the flavor. After the meat is browned, remove it and set it aside and proceed to
Step Three: Aromatics
Standard recipes call for a mirepoix (carrot, onion, celery) of various small to medium dice to be added to the pan at this time. Give them a pinch of salt to help draw out liquid, and sweat/sautee them until starting to get tender. This also builds fond. So now there are two layers. Add garlic and your preferred spices and cook for a minute or so to bloom the spices. Another common additive to this stage is tomato paste. This should be cooked very well until it browns and the sugars form yet another layer of fond. In the recipe I’m showing you, I like to do things a bit differently. First, I add my carrots separately into the pan I will be using in the oven. I also like to add a ton of whole or halved garlic cloves (depending on size) as well. This way I get sweet bits of garlicky goodness to eat. In this picture, I also did a couple additions. I added a couple of tablespoons of hot Chicago style giardiniera, and a bit of liquid from a previous braise that reduced down to this thick jelly of a demi.
In the second photo, I have my onion going with a jalapeno and a serrano. For my spices, I added turmeric, smoked paprika, dried dill and dried thyme.
Step Four: Deglaze
Once those layers of fond are built, and to keep the vegetables and tomato paste from burning, we deglaze the pan with liquid. This loosens the fond so you can easily scrape it off the pan. This is where all the best flavor is. Typically, you would deglaze with some wine. You’d let that cook and reduce a bit, to get the raw taste out, and to let the alcohol evaporate. At this point, you would return the meat to the pan, including any and all accumulated juices. You gotta have those. If you’ve done your job right, all you will need to add is some water, until it comes up to like 2/3 or so up the meat. If you’re submerging the meat, you’re making a stew, not a braise. Instead of water, many people would add chicken stock. I know—why chicken stock if you’re cooking beef? Well, it’s a more neutral flavor, and sometimes the flavor of a beef stock may conflict with the flavors you’ve built with your fond.
Step Five: Cook slow and long
Once all your liquid is poured in and ready to go, cover your pan and place it in an oven. I do mine at 325, some recipes do it higher. It needs to cook for at least 2 hours, sometimes as many as 4, depending on the cut of meat. Check with a fork after about 2 hours or so, and if the fork goes in with ease, it’s ready. If you have a cut with a bone, the bone should slide out leaving nothing stuck to it. When it comes out of the oven, it should look like the photo at the top of this diary. Now, there probably will be a good deal of fat floating at the top. Skim as much or as little of that fat as you wish. You are, after all, the Fatboy Slim of how much fat to skim. Serve the meat and veggies, along with a nice helping of the liquid atop things like mashed potatoes, polenta, or any other meat and gravy delivery system. In some recipes like pot roast, the potatoes (and carrots) are braised along with the meat, so they soak up all that flavor.
So that’s braising. Used to be a great way to get a great meal from those cheap tough cuts of meat. Now, however, foodies have made those cuts super expensive. Especially oxtails. I mean, c’mon.
Anyway, what’s for dinner at your place tonight?
