Tag Archives: Pasta

Beef Stroganoff

This lovely Beef Stroganoff with brandy and mushrooms and onions was another America’s Test Kitchen success from their “Best International Recipe” cookbook that I bought used after succumbing to the delights of their Thai Chili Beef and Szechwan Green Beans. Beef Stroganoff was a comfort food during my childhood which I had (oddly) never attempted to make myself. All of that changes today. And I’m dragging you along on the journey. Aren’t you glad?!?*

*Please only answer the above question using a) “yes,” b) “you betcha!” c) “can’t wait, girlfriend!” or d) “All of the above.” Thank you and goodnight.

Ingredients

(Serves 4)

1 1/2 lbs flap meat sirloin steak tips
Salt and pepper
1/4 cup vegetable oil
10 oz white mushrooms, sliced thin
1 onion, minced
2 TBS flour
1 tsp tomato paste
2 cups chicken broth
1/3 cup brandy
1 1/2 tsp dark brown sugar
2/3 cup sour cream
2 tsp lemon juice
1 TBS minced parsley leaves

Pound the beef to 1/2 inch thickness:

I like to cover meat with parchment paper to avoid bits of flying bacteria. I used to pound the meat naked in our little kitchen in the dorms during college. If anyone got some kind of food poisoning as a result, I sincerely apologize. I was extremely unconcerned about culinary hygiene in those days. After all, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?

Unless, of course, it makes you weaker.

Anyway! Slice the pounded beef into strips 2 inches wide, and then slice each strip crosswise into 1/2-inch-wide pieces. Confused? Here’s a visual:

All chunked up! Great. The worst part is over.

Pat the beef dry with paper towels (seriously, this will help it brown waaay better) . . .

. . . and season it with salt and pepper.

Can I just point out how the focus in that picture is on the little falling grains of salt? Yep. Awesome. And a total accident, by the way. Lest you should think my photographic skills are greater than they are and start expecting pictures with grains of salt in focus all the dang time. That would just be . . . too much pressure.

Heat 1 TBS of the oil over medium high heat in a 12 inch skillet. When quite hot, toss in half the beef chunks.

Let ’em sit for a couple minutes before moving them around. Brown the beef on both sides (about 6 minutes).

When the beef is done (= browned, since it will finish cooking through later), remove it to a bowl:

Heat another 1 TBS of oil and cook the second batch of beef in the same way, removing it to the same bowl when it’s done. Trust me–do it in two batches even if your efficient soul is trying to rebel against the words I am speaking to you. It guarantees a nice sear on the meat (which guarantees flavor) instead of a floppy steam (which breeds despair, hysteria, and angry taste buds). As a recovering Efficiency Addict, I can state with confidence that sometimes the ‘best flavor’ and the more ‘efficient way’ have to duke it out–and only one can win.

While the meat is cooking, other prep work can occur: mincing the onion, for one.

Slicing the mushrooms if you didn’t buy the pre-sliced kind like me. Chopping the parsley.

Juicing the lemon.

You only need 2 tsp of the lemon juice, but you can always use the rest to make a Hot Honey ‘n’ Lemon if it’s raining, or a chilled glass of lemonade if it’s hot and sunny.

Add the rest of the oil to the skillet, and when it’s nice and hot add the mushrooms and onion . . .

. . . along with 1/2 tsp of salt.

Immediately the veggies and fungi will start absorbing the meat particles from the skillet. It will smell like paradise.

Cook for about 8 minutes, until the liquid from the mushrooms has evaporated.

Stir in the flour . . .

. . . and tomato paste . . .

. . . and cook for 30 seconds.

You should stir constantly at this point to avoid burnination of the ingredients.

Yes, ‘burnination’ is a technical term. Haven’t you heard of Trogdor?

Now whisk in the broth little by little.

Add the brown sugar . . .

. . . brandy . . .

. . . and beef (with juices).

Stir it all around, bring it to a simmer and turn down the heat to low.

Cook uncovered for 30-35 minutes–the beef will cook through and the sauce will thicken during this time. I also used this interval to cook up some egg noodles.

Once the 30 minutes are up, take the skillet off the heat. Stir a couple spoonfuls of hot sauce into the sour cream to temper it (so that it doesn’t curdle when it hits the hot dish).

Add the tempered sour cream to the skillet . . .

. . . along with the lemon juice . . .

. . . and parsley.

Season to taste, and you’re done!

Serve over rice or pasta–I thought that egg noodles were perfect.

The sauce is flavorful without being overly rich.

The creaminess is perfectly offset by the acidity of the sour cream and lemon juice.

The mushrooms . . . don’t get me started. I love them under any guise.

Me and the fungi–we’re best buds.

This is nothing like the quasi-hamburger helper versions of beef stroganoff out there. There’s a place for those . . . but the chunks of meat in this one have me converted. Give ‘er a whirl!

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Pasta al Pomodoro

This dish was pictured on the cover of the May 2011 issue of Bon Appétit magazine. It literally translates as “Pasta with Tomato Sauce” (thank you, GoogleTranslate). When I saw it, I desired it. When I desired it, I wrote it into my menu plan. When I wrote it into my menu plan, I purchased the necessary ingredients. And when I purchased . . . okay, let’s cut the the chase: I made it the other week. The result of my efforts: a silky, smooth, flavorful sauce that coats every strand of spaghetti. Somehow it manages to have both that fresh edge and also a subtle depth.

Now I’m not one to speak out against jarred spaghetti sauce–heavens knows that I always have a jar on hand to make emergency batches of Arroz a la Cubana. However, when you plop pre-made sauce on a pile of spaghetti, let’s be realistic: it ends up in a watery pile. Have you noticed that? The puddles of liquid that pool at the bottom of the plate? It’s kind of gross. The pasta and sauce have issues getting together.

This pasta does NOT have this issue. The sauce and the pasta become one. You can’t take a bite of one without getting the other. And together, they will conquer the galaxy.

If you’re just eating the pasta, it serves 3, but if you have bread and/or a salad, it stretches to 4 easily.

Ingredients

(Serves 3-4)

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, minced
6 garlic cloves, minced
1 pinch crushed red pepper flakes
1 28 oz can whole tomatoes, pureed
1 pinch kosher salt
3 large sprigs basil
12 oz spaghetti noodles
1/2 cup pasta water (reserved)
2 TBS cubed cold butter
1/4 cup finely grated Parmesan or Pecorino Romano cheese

Mince the onion very finely.

In a 12” skillet with deep sides, heat the olive oil over medium-low heat.

Add the minced onion and cook for about 12 minutes (until softened) stirring frequently.

While the onion is cooking, puree the can of whole tomatoes . . .

. . . and mince the garlic.

You’ll notice I added a few more cloves to the mix after that initial shot of all the ingredients together. Adding more garlic is a compulsion with me, and I can’t be expected to control my urges in that area.

Add the minced garlic to the onion . . .

. . . and cook for 4-5 more minutes, still stirring frequently.

Add the pinch of red pepper flakes and stir for 1 minute.

By now it smells so good in the kitchen that I’ll totally understand if you start weeping uncontrollably.

Turn the heat up to medium and add the pureed tomatoes and a pinch of kosher salt to the onions/garlic.

Cook for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. If you have a splatter screen, use it at this juncture! If you don’t (like me) please expect to clean the stove thoroughly from the red tomato polka dots after dinner.

The sauce will reduce nicely during those 20 minutes, as you can see here.

Plus I’ve heard that the acid tomatoes will soak up the iron from the cast iron skillet and give me a little extra boost in terms of my metallic needs.

As you wait for the sauce to become perfect, grate up the Parmesan cheese . . .

. . . and cube the cold butter.

Once the sauce is done simmering, take the pan off the heat and stir in the basil sprigs.

Note: we’re talking 3 whole sprigs here, not just 3 leaves. I tore off a couple leaves and set them aside for garnish.

Set the pan aside.

Heat 3 quarts of water in a large pot. Salt the water generously, and when it boils, add the pasta.

Cook 2 minutes short of al dente. We’re undercooking the pasta because we’re going to finish it off in the sauce, where it will absorb all the flavor during it’s final minutes of cooking. Reserve 1/2 cup of pasta water (just scoop it out in a measuring cup) . . .

. . . and drain the pasta.

Discard the basil, add the pasta water to the tomato sauce . . .

. . . and bring the sauce to a boil. Add the pasta . . .

. . . and cook for 2 minutes (until al dente), tossing with tongs so that the sauce coats all the strands of spaghetti.

Remove the skillet from the heat and stir in the cold butter and cheese.

Toss the pasta until the butter and cheese are melted and incorporated.

 Serve with extra basil and cheese to garnish.

Let’s dig in!

Yes, yes, yes. See how beautifully the ingredients have married?

So this is a little more trouble than using premade sauce, but if you have a little time, it’s so worth it. And now, a nice bottle of red would round things out perfectly.

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