Our family has always loved to barbecue, grilling burgers and hot dogs at least once a week while the kids were growing up, so you might find it odd that when Julie and I downsized to a condo in Redondo, we dedicated the small balcony to being a comfortable sitting space for two rather than carving out space for a barbecue grill.
It was one of the compromises we made to get an ocean view home at a price we were prepared to pay.
Besides, according to Amy, grilling meat is theoretically more carcinogenic than other forms of cooking.
We now eat burgers only when we go out, whether stopping at McDonald's on the road or getting a Lighthouse Burger while listening to live jazz in Hermosa Beach.
As such, that opened up a large slot in our dinner rotation for beef to take the place of hamburgers.
Chuck roast is a rather inexpensive cut of beef generously marbled with fat, so it is best cooked a long time over low heat. In fact, I mentioned briefly in the previous article that you can basically make something very similar to Beef Bourguignon using chuck roast.
That's what I set out to do last night, but as often happens with me, something went a bit wrong so I adapted the recipe and came up with something better.
To start out, heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in a Teflon-coated pot with the heat to medium. Season a 2 pound chuck roast with seasoned salt and pepper on one side, and when the oil is hot, put that side down in the pot.
Season the other side with garlic salt, pepper, onion flakes and Jamaican All Spice.
After 7 minutes, turn the roast over with a fork, and you will see that it is braised dark brown (almost blackened). Braise the other side for 7 minutes. This seals the juices in.
After both sides are braised, add one can of beef stock and two cups of water. Bring that to a boil, and then reduce the heat to about halfway between simmer and medium. Cover and let it cook for two or three hours, turning the meat every twenty minutes or so. When you turn the meat over, be sure that you haven't cooked away all the liquid. The longer it cooks, the more tender the meat gets.
Yesterday, at about three hours, most of the liquid was gone, and it was about to start burning on the bottom of the pan. I didn't have any more beef broth to add, and I didn't want to water it down too much, so instead I diced a large Roma tomato and added that, along with a half cup of water. I actually thought about using a can of diced tomatoes with peppers that I had on hand to make chili, but Julie despises peppers. That would definitely work for most people, though.
I chopped up two cups of carrots and added them, but it still didn't look like there was enough liquid in there. I didn't want to use one of my better bottles of red wine (read wine that cost $5 to $8 a bottle), and I saw about a cup of Sutter Home Sweet Red (our favorite) was still left in the bottle on the counter, so I added that.
I don't know why, because the wine is quite tasty to drink, but the smell that kicked off that particular wine was not good when it hit the pot. I needed to do something to change that aroma, because I don't like it when the first thing Julie says when she comes home is, "What stinks?" So, I looked at my spices...and as you may guess from the previous articles, that really isn't a huge selection.
In a flash of genius, I thought "Jack Daniels Barbecue Sauce." I poured a few dollops of that into the liquid surrounding the roast. Plop plop plop. Plop plop plop plop. I don't know exactly how much it was, but it sounded like that. Maybe it was a half cup.
I stirred around the outside of the meat and then turned the meat over, allowing liquid to go under it. Immediately, the aroma became tempting rather than repelling.
I commenced chopping up the other vegetables I happened to have in the crisper of my refrigerator: one banana squash and two stalks of celery.
I checked the carrots with a fork, and they were still pretty stiff, but I tasted one, and it was surprisingly flavorful, which was a good sign.
After letting that cook for another five minutes, I added the other vegetables.
I picked up the beef and allowed the vegetables and liquid to fill the gap in the middle of the pot, and then put the roast on top of them. After another ten minutes, it was done.
The tender meat and vegetables all had a delicious barbecue tang. Success!
Fatty beef makes for tougher cleanup, but filling the pot with hot water and dish soap along with swiping occasionally with a paper towel does the trick eventually. '
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