The Art of Eating In - Cathy Erway [114]
1/2 cup heavy cream
Fresh pomegranate seeds for garnish
Pat beef cheek pieces dry. Season with salt and pepper on all sides and dredge in a light coating of flour. Heat the oil in a large, oven-safe pot or Dutch oven over high heat until oil begins to pop. Shake off excess flour and place beef cheeks in a single layer on the bottom of the pot (working in batches if necessary). Brown on each side until lightly golden. Remove beef cheeks with tongs and set aside in a bowl.
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Add the onion, carrot, and celery to the pan (adding additional oil if bottom is very dry), and sweat over low heat until softened, about 6 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Return the beef cheeks to the pot, and add the wine and 1 cup of the pomegranate juice. Bring just to a boil, stirring. Cover, and transfer to the oven to braise for 3-4 hours.
Meanwhile, slice the squash in half lengthwise and scoop out the seeds. Generously oil a baking tray and place squash halves cut side down. Roast for about 1 hour while the beef cheeks are braising, or until the tops are soft to the touch and the flesh underneath is tender through. Let cool, and scrape out the flesh from the skins with a spoon. Transfer to a saucepan and add the butter, cream, and a couple of pinches of salt while stirring over medium heat. Using a hand blender, process until smooth.
Return the pot with the beef cheeks to the stove. Transfer beef to a separate dish carefully with a slotted spoon. Add the remaining cup of pomegranate juice and reduce sauce to about half, depending on how much liquid there is to begin with. Arrange beef cheeks on a plate with a scoop of the squash puree, and top with a ladle or two of the sauce. Garnish with fresh pomegranate seeds.
CHAPTER 12
Hanging Over in New York
THE MEXICAN MENUDO INCIDENT
At work one day, my coworkers and I somehow got on the subject of tripe. We were gathered in the narrow aisle that connected our six cubicles, chatting because, as had been common over the past few months, the server that enabled us to do virtually any work was down. It was a recurring technical problem, one that no doubt drove the company mad, but for us, it was a pleasant little break in the day. We’d come to expect it at least once a week.
We’d pushed our chairs to the farthest edges of our cubicles so we could sit and talk in the aisle. Across from me sat Keith, the kitchen and electrics copywriter. To my right was Mike D., a menswear copywriter, and across from him was Melissa, a freelance copywriter who came in about twice a week. Mike M., the furniture copywriter, was across from me to my left, and in the cubicle left of me was Josh, a Web technician who really had nothing to do with our creative department. He spent most of his time on long-distance conference calls, trying to find ways to reprogram the server that was constantly crashing. (Our boss, Lauren, once referred to Josh as the “Chandler” of our little section, because for a long time she had no idea what he did all day.) That day, Keith brought into the office a box of dried cricket snacks, a free sample someone had given him on the street to promote something or other, and Josh, Melissa, and I had bonded over being the only ones brave enough to try them. Everyone else in our aisle had been horrified by the sight of the dried, spindly creatures. But they all stared in awe as first Josh, then I gamely popped one in our mouths. It took Melissa about five minutes to work up the courage, egged on by the others, but she eventually put one in her mouth with her eyes shut and quickly swallowed.
Maybe that’s how we got on the subject of tripe. In any case, Mike D. spoke up:
“Yeah, my wife’s grandmother sometimes makes menudo, and I can never get myself to eat the tripe in it.”
“What’s menudo?” I asked.
“It’s like, this Mexican stew. It’s supposed to be good for hangovers,” Mike D. answered.
“Let’s look it up,” Keith said, and promptly pulled up a Wikipedia entry for menudo. A spicy, chili-based