We don’t need no stinking Barbecue! January 27, 2011Posted by Toy Lady in Cooking, Eating Down the Fridge, Food, random stuff.
Tags: Fine Cooking, pot roast
I mean . . . I of course was curious.
Is bourbon beef anything like bourbon chicken?
And mustard as a glaze?
And above all, what, exactly, does “barbecue-braised” mean?
So of course I read further – wouldn’t you? (Besides, I was at work and wasn’t in the mood to actually, you know, work.)
And it turns out that “barbecue-braised” means exactly what it sounds like – you’re braising a chuck roast on the barbecue.
Dude. They’re telling you to fire up the grill, dig out your Dutch oven, and make a pot roast. On said grill.
So I had a good chuckle.
And I thought to myself, you know, if you can cook a
pot roast beef chuck roast in a Dutch oven on the grill, I’ll bet there’s probably no reason you couldn’t do it in the oven.
So I went ahead and tied up a chuck roast (not really necessary) and started putting together a quick rub for the meat:
- 1 heaping Tbsp. of mixed rosemary and sage (which I had salvaged from the garden – it wasn’t completely dry yet, so I’ll call it “fresh”)
- 2 tsp. each paprika (Hungarian), kosher salt and black pepper
- 1 tsp. dry mustard
And I wrapped that up and left it in the fridge for a few hours. I’d intended to do it the night before, but I forgot. My bad. However, since we were making this ahead of time, it didn’t really matter if it wasn’t quite done by dinnertime – it was just going in the fridge anyway.
While I was browning the meat (on all sides) in a heavy Dutch oven, I put together the braising liquid. And here’s where I started to deviate from the directions (I mean, besides the whole cooking-in-the-house part, of course).
See, the recipe said to use 1/2 cup of bourbon in the braising liquid. And the closest thing to bourbon we had in the house was Jack Daniels. And we drink that!
There was some vodka (no), gin (definitely not), ouzo (possibly but Peeps would never go for it) and Southern Comfort.
Southern Comfort? Where the heck did that come from? Do you know that there is also a Southern Comfort Reserve that’s mixed with bourbon? Well, I think we can call that close enough, then, don’t you?
So the braising liquid:
- 1/2 c. SoCo (or booze of your choice, I guess)
- 2 c. chicken stock
- 1 Tbsp. coarse mustard
- 2 Tbsp. molasses
Plus 2-4 thinly sliced onions and several (4-6) cloves of peeled garlic.
And that was pretty much it – dump the braising liquid in with the meat, toss the onions and garlic in, lid ‘er up and stick it in the low-and-slow oven – about 325 for 3 hours or so, turning once (and checking to be sure there’s at least 1 inch of liquid) (which, really, with the lid on, where’s it going to go?).
Then we pulled everything out of the oven and pulled the meat out of the braising liquid. That got cooled, wrapped tightly in foil, and refrigerated.
And the braising liquid – we strained that (keeping the onions, of course), and de-fatted it. We’ve recently become converts to the fat separator – who could have known how much easier it would make our lives? We reunited the mostly-fat-free broth with the onions and pureed them with the stick blender – then we stuck that in the fridge, too, to wait until serving time.
See, just like with the recent pork roast, chilling the beef first before slicing it will permit us to, well, to actually slice it, rather than shred it. And while it may be a small thing, it makes dealing with it at the table much easier!
And since we were kind of winging it from here (and we’d forgotten all about the “glaze” part by this point!), we decided to follow the same reheating directions as for that pork – we sliced the meat, laid it in a 9×13 pan, and covered it with gravy.
Oh, the gravy! I took a couple of cups of the pureed oniony braising liquid, added a couple of tablespoons of coarse mustard and some finely chopped rosemary (that I remembered we’d stashed in the freezer!), stirred them up, and spread that over the meat before covering and sticking in a low oven to reheat – again, maybe 350 or so for 45 minutes or so. I mean, at this point, it’s not like it’s going to overcook, right?
And, unfortunately, this photo doesn’t do it justice, but take my word for it – this was a delightful pot roast – the flavors were bold and worked nicely together, and, like any other braised dish, it just sat in a low oven and did its thing all day, with minimal actual work on our parts.
Would I make this again? Probably – but still not on the grill. Sheesh.