Dishes that take several hours are never at the top of my list of Things to Make Soon, but because slow-cooking is the sometimes the only way to achieve a certain depth of flavor, they're often at the top of my list of Things to Eat Soon. Fortunately for me, I happen to have a very patient boyfriend, who fortunately happens to have a slow-cooker.
I've been campaigning for beef stew for a few weeks, my technique varying from subtle hints ("So, what are you doing Sunday or Monday or Wednesday night?") to outright demands ("You have to make it before I leave for California on Thursday"). He reported that the process itself, unlike me, was not very demanding at all: place cubes of meat, potatoes, and carrots in the crock pot in the morning, turn it on, go to work, come home to a very stewy apartment. Easy enough for me to consider trying it myself sometime – but it doesn’t bode well that my impatience manifested itself that evening even though I wasn’t doing any of the slow-cooking. I missed the bus, and even though dinner was six hours in the making, I couldn’t stand the idea of waiting ten minutes for the next one to come. Instead, I took off down Atlantic at a furious pace, noticeably frustrated and inelegantly jostling a cast iron skillet, a bottle of wine, and three large oranges. The bus caught up with me seven blocks later, two stops from the apartment, and I got on. Clearly, I’m not cut out for waiting of any kind.
When I finally arrived and put down my bag, I was ready for a hearty meal. I came ready to contribute to it, of course, since I had been so adamant that the stew be prepared for me. I quickly stirred together some cornbread batter, poured it into the skillet and stuck it in the oven, all of which took about four minutes. I then turned to the task of mulling wine, which I’ve heard is how the Finns survive this part of the year – keep a thermos of this stuff on you at all times, and you won’t care how long it’s been since you’ve seen the sun or felt anything in your fingertips. One bottle of Two-Buck Chuck went into a pot along with a halved orange, a few tablespoons of sugar, and some spices from a packet purchased at Canned Foods over a year ago, the pot was placed over low heat, and I stared at it, willing it to hurry up and get steamy.
About half an hour later, everything was piping hot and ready to eat. Piping hot, actually, is too hot to be consumed, but naturally I refused to wait for it to cool down, and I now have severe burns on the inside of my mouth. But the stew was delicious: nothing complicated, just the flavors of tender beef and root vegetables falling apart all over each other in a satisfying mush. Beef stew is the wool sweater of foods – practical and classic, and something your grandmother would suggest. Although a seared steak or a crisp raw carrot are perfect for certain circumstances, there’s no way to achieve the richness that results when their tastes and nutrients mingle and get to know each other without allowing them some time.
I’m hoping that reflecting on this meal will teach me the virtue of patience, because it seems like the only solution to winter may be to just wait it out. It must take more reflection than I’ve had time for, though, since I’m getting on a plane to California tonight.
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