fava bean crostini - ostuni - olive trees

If there is one thing I can be sure of it is that somewhere – a second floor borwnstone apartment in Brooklyn, a clapboard craftsman cottage in San Francisco, a white washed home in Ostuni - there is a tablespoon, or perhaps a couple healthy glugs, of olive oil warming in the bottom of a pan, waiting patiently for it’s dinner companions to be stirred in. That earthy sweet scent that slips out of the pan just as the olive oil is getting hot, but before you’ve added any vegetables, is one of my favorite kitchen moments. More often than not that smell whips me out of my chopping trance and reminds me that I have hot oil on the stove and that I need to stop staring at my neighbors across the way, wondering what they are eating for dinner, and get back to chopping the onions. 

With all the olive trees in Apulia you would expect the air to smell like olive oil just before the onions are added, but it doesn't. (More often than not it smelt like burning olive branches. The trees are trimmed, and the branches burned, to ensure healthy growth in the season ahead, and sadly burning olive tree branches do not smell like hot olive oil in the bottom of a well seasoned dutch oven). There are some sixty million olive trees in Apulia, and a large percentage of those are trees are over 400 years old and some even three times that old. Olive trees are their schtick, like orange trees in Florida, except that the olive trees have been there for centuries, for millennia even, for so long that it is hard to think about just how long. There are a natures answer to the Pantheon. 

The blanket of olive trees over the landscape was most apparent from the hill town of Ostuni. Ostuni, also known as Città Bianca, is perched on a hill eight miles inland from the Adriatic and from it's privileged perch you can watch the olive trees spread over the flat, arid, earth, and seemingly drop into the sea. 

Ostuni was our favorite hill town in Apulia. We loved the warren of white buildings and the passageways that rambled willy-nilly between them. We loved the restaurant carved into the hillside and their menu full of simple Apulian food. We loved the cafe near the cathedral where we spent the pre dinner hours on a rainy night with a bottle of white wine. And we loved happening upon paths we hadn't walked, steps we hadn't climbed and tucked away views down to the sea that we hadn't yet seen. 

Somewhere in the blanket of olive trees between Ostuni and the sea, there is a Masseria (a traditional farm estate) called Masseria Il Frantoio, and at Il Frantoio there is a cozy dining room (where we ate the best meal of our lives) run by a man named Armando, Armando who thought we were German and told us about the "Fava Bohnen" in our first course. I can't think about fava beans now without saying silently to my self "fava BOHnen." 

Thankfully there is a stall at the farmer's market that specializes in Italian produce. I bought half a kilo on Wednesday and then another kilo this past Saturday and Zach and I set to work shucking them on Sunday. Fava beans, while not an ingredient for a quick meal, are a fun weekend project. They take time, but it is a relaxing, mediative type of time. You have to strip the beans from their pods, parboil the beans and then remove the tough light green shell that is hiding the bright green bean. It is a really satisfying process, grabbing the end of the pod and pulling off the thins strips that run along the edges, running your finger in the space left by the strip like your opening a letter, revealing the plump beans, sheathing them out of the pod by pushing your thumb down the furry middle, and then dumping them in the bowl where they will wait to be boiled. And then the process starts again with the boiled pods, using your nail to slice the skin and the forefinger and thumb of your other hand to pinch the beans out of their protective coating. 

The gnarled and twisted trucks of olive trees will be one of the visual memories I will carry with me from our trip. The trees twist, and lean, and sometimes reach down their trunks and branches to the earth for support. I couldn't help but think about how they harvest all the olives as we drove along roads that ran between olive groves. I knew they couldn't possibly pick all the olives, that would be insane, so I eventually asked and we found out that a net is hung from the bottom limbs and a vibrating/shaking machine is used to shake all of the olives out of the tree. Still it must take months for all of the olives to be harvested. 

I also couldn't help but think about how wonderful it would be to buy a piece of land strewn with ancient olive trees. And on that piece of land there would be an old Masseria and I could plant a kitchen garden....and keep dreaming....

Fava Bohnen and olive oil make a wonderful pair. You can pour your beans into a pot, add in a mixture of half water / half olive oil until they are just barely covered, add in some garlic and rosemary and saute for a few minute until soft and fragrant. Or you can keep it simple, honor the beauty of the bean and all that hard work you put into them, and eat them raw, mixed with olive oil and parmesan. 

Fava Bean Crostini

inspired by Food 52

ingredients

3-4 pounds // 1-2 kilo of fava beans in their pods

a few glugs of olive oil (to taste really)

lemon juice (to taste)

a handful of parmesan for the mixture and extra to sprinkle on top

salt and pepper to taste

a few basil leafs chopped

sliced ciabatta bread

Shell the pods and collect the beans in a bowl. Boil water over high heat and add the shelled beans for about 1 minute. Drain them and immediately plunge in cold water. Using your thumbnail pierce the pale green skin and pinch the bright green bean out using your other thumb and forefinger. Discard the pale green shell. 

Set aside some of the whole beans to use as a garnish and place the rest in a mortar and pestle. Add in the olive oil, lemon juice, chopped basil, and parmesan and smash up, adding salt and pepper, more olive oil or lemon juice to taste. This is really a recipe about preference so taste as you go and adjust accordingly.

Grill or toast your ciabatta slices and top each with a couple spoonfuls of the purée and some whole beans and some grated parmesan cheese. 

These crostini taste like spring, so pack 'em up and bring them to the park for your spring picnic. 

It was beautiful here this past week, summer-esq, and we spent the entire weekend outside, shoes off, enjoying the sunshine. 

homemade orecchiette and bolognese sauce

I grew up with an Italian-American grandmother. She wasn't my grandmother exactly, but she was a grandmother. Her name was Rose and she was our nanny. She was the type of woman who it seems was born an old woman. Do you know the type? I cannot for the life of me imagine Rose as a young woman. When she started working for us she was ten years younger than my mom is now, but even then she seemed ancient, and for the twelve odd years that she worked with us it seemed like she never aged, she was just old to begin with.

Funny enough Rose never actually knew how old she was. My five year old mind found this impossible to comprehend. I was measuring my age by the quarter - I was five and three quarters (!!) - and here was a woman who didn't know how old she was. Was she three years old for two years in a row? Did she have a lot of siblings and her parents lost track? How do you lose track of something so integral to your existence? It came out only about ten years ago that was three years older than she though she was. It really troubled her, which was surprising to me, because that was the whole problem, she didn't know how old she was.

Everyday Rose wore a version of the same shapeless dress. Today it might be called a moo-moo, but I think she would have preferred the term 'house dress.' As I remember them they were short sleeved with little rounded collars and were often light blue, patterned with small pink flowers. When she sat down her dress often lifted just enough to reveal the top of her nude knee high. I remember she always called them 'hose,' not 'panty hose' or 'stockings,' just 'hose.' She didn't wear heals or pumps, but white orthotic shoes, the ones with teeny white pettipoint holes and a slight white heal.

You are likely imagining a heavy set woman, but Rose wasn't heavy, she was sturdy. Her short auburn curls - dyed monthly and coiffed weekly - were always flush to her head and seemingly squared off and flattened on top, augmenting her build. If you are nearsighted you might have mistaken her for a cardboard wardrobe box, or perhaps a small light blue refrigerator.

// pictures from our cooking class in Apulia //

Rose never went anywhere - the grocery store, church, next door - without putting makeup on. I think she was just playing it safe, because god forbid she run into Fabio at the corner store. You see, Rose was an avid reader of bodice rippers, the cheesy romance novels with titles like The Captain of All Pleasures and Savage Lovers. The small compact books were always a various shade of purple and always featured Fabio on the cover, bare-chested, clinging to a woman in distress while riding a white stallion, the whole scene reflected in a body of water. My little five year old mind must have assumed they were an adult version of My Little Pony, but now I find it funny to think that while we were napping Rose escaped to Fabio-land. She even read them while watching Soap Operas, perhaps to heighten their impact. Hopefully she still carried a little hope that she would meet her Prince Charming (or a naughtier version based on her reading materials), but in the years that she worked with us I think she only went on a few dates, and I doubt it was her coiffed hear and baby blue dress that won them over. In all likelihood it was her Bolognese sauce.

At just barely five feet it is a miracle that Rose could see over the edge of the tall stainless steel saucepot. She made Bolognese sauce for us once a week, and I imagine she made it for her own family just as frequently. She never used a recipe, she didn't need to, it was routine for her by that point. She chopped and stirred and let it simmer and then stirred some more until it was just as she liked it, not too soupy, but not so thick that the sauce didn't collapse into the spaghetti. My parents, who still eat spaghetti Bolognese once a week, adored her sauce. It is sad to say now, but my brother Peter and I cringed at the thought of it. We wanted our spaghetti with Ragu tomato sauce, the slick slimy stuff that comes in a glass jar and is more akin to watery ketchup than to tomato sauce. As I remember it, I think we actually liked her sauce, but that we were just trying to stir up drama. Did I mention that Rose was a bit dramatic with slight hypochondriac tendencies? Either way, we loved Rose - the little white shoes and all - and now we both love Bolognese sauce. I think of Rose standing on her tip toes peering into the saucepot everytime I make Bolognese, which although not once a week, is still quiet often.

Writing about Rose and cooking Bolognese came about because I want to be an Italian Grandmother. I don't want to be old (I'm already panicking about turning 30 in 4 months and 24 days), but I want to make homemade pasta while talking about the merits of one sauce over another, whip up sheets of tiramsu without needed to reference a cookbook, cook a delicious five course dinner with the remnants of the crisper drawer, and stand over a pot of sauce while wearing a 'house dress' and orthotic shoes, because although they aren't fashionable, they look damn comfortable.

I figured the first step towards becoming an Italian grandmother, before the Bolognese, was to master a simple tomato sauce, a more elegant version of my old favorite, Ragu. This sauce is simple, just tomatoes, butter, onions and salt, simmered over low heat for 45 minutes. It is an incredibly light and flavorful sauce, with just enough richness from the butter and flavor from the onions. It is the type of sauce that will make you wonder why you ever used store bought sauce.

// simple tomato sauce //

Marcella Hazan - inspired by Ali.

I made it once and then ran out to buy the book

ingredients

- 900 g // 2lb fresh, ripe tomatoes (I mix varieties, adding some San Marzano tomatoes if they are available)

- 75 g // 2 1/2 oz butter

- 1 medium onion, peeled and sliced in half

- salt

You need to peel the tomatoes and the easiest way to do this is to dunk them in boiling water for a minute. Before boiling, turn the tomatoes bottom side up and slice an X in bottom, not cutting through the flesh, but just the skin. This will make it much easier to peel the tomatoes. Drop the 'X'd' tomatoes in the pot for 30seconds to a minute until the skins just peel away from the flesh. Let them cool, and when they are cool enough to handle peel them, discarding the peels.

Roughly chop the peeled tomatoes and transfer them with their juices to a medium saucepot. Add the butter, the onion and a few pinches of salt. You can adjust the salt to taste as you cook so don't add too much in the beginning. Cook, uncovered, at a very slow but steady simmer for about 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. Mash up the larger pieces of tomato as you stir. Taste and correct for salt. Once done you can process with an immersion blender if you prefer a smoother consistency, I do.

So before this post was about Rose and Bolognese, it was about homemade pasta (oh how the mind can wander). When Zach and I were in Apulia we took a cooking class at Masseria Torre Coccaro. Our parents had jointly put money in our account so we could treat ourselves to an anniversary bottle of champagne and a nice meal, but instead of having someone else cook it for us, we made it ourselves, with help from Cossimo, our teacher. We made Panzarotti (fried calzones, when it's your anniversary, like your birthday, you can eat whatever you want, it's a rule), Homemade Orechiette, Sea Bass with tomatoes and potatoes, and a Ricotta tart. Hopefully all of the courses will find their way on to the blog in the near future, but I thought it would be fun to start with the Orechiette. Once you've had fresh pasta, like fresh tomato sauce, you'll wonder why you've spent so many meals eating the boxed stuff. Homemade pasta is light, like a little puff of flavorful air, it melts in your mouth almost before you have a chance to chew.

Apulia is one of the poorest regions of Italy. Zach read somewhere that if you separated North and South Italy, that the North would be the richest country in Europe and the South the poorest, that is how stark the difference is between the two. Apulian pasta is paired down to the simplest ingredients, just flour and water, no egg or butter of olive oil, just the basics.

// homemade semolina pasta //

orecchiette (little ears)

* in Zürich you can buy semolina flour at Schwarzenbach, it is called Hartweizen dunst.

* Zach and I have made pasta twice since the class, two different ways, one the class way, and one with ratios we learned at a pasta class here in Zürich. The results were the measurements were easier to obtain using the Laughing Lemon ratio method. A kitchen scale is a must when making pasta

* We found this to be enough for about 2 as a main course, but feel free to up the ratio 100g flour : 40 g water

* make sure to buy extra flour because you will need it for rolling/shaping/sprinkling

ingredients

- 200 g // 7 oz semolina flour

- 80 g // 2.82 oz water

Measure the flour and pour it into a bowl. Dig a cavity in the center of the flour, like a volcano and slowly add the water, mixing with a fork while you pour in the water. When the dough comes together just enough to form it into a semi-compact ball, turn it out of the bowl and on your work surface. Knead the dough for about 7-10 minutes. You are aiming for soft, smooth dough that is not sticky and that springs back when lightly poked with a finger. During the 7-10 minutes of kneading time you will likely need to add more flour if it is sticky or more water if it is dry (add water with a spritz bottle if you have one). If the dough is sticky at any point and the dough is sticking to your hands make sure to clean the dough from your hands by rubbing them together like you are washing them, and then incorporate that dough back into the larger ball.

Once you have achieved the right consistency wrap the dough in plastic wrap and let it sit for at least half and hour, which gives the glutens a chance to relax and for the dough to absorb the water.

At this point if you have a pasta maker/roller feel free to use that, if you want to make orecchiette keep reading

Remove the dough from the plastic wrap and have a damp kitchen towel waiting. The dough will dry out very quickly and must be kept under the kitchen towel while you are working. Slice off small pieces and roll into a skinny log, about 1/2" in diameter. Then chop the log into little 1/2" pieces. Flour your work surface, it will make it easier to form the orecchiette. Using a knife blade, with the serrated edge facing away from you, press into the dough, pulling it along the work surface until the dough wraps itself around the edge of the blade. Invert the wrapped dough onto a finger on your opposite hand to form your little ear or orecchiette.

If that was confusing, which it probably was, watch this video. Not only will it help, but it will inspire you to nail this technique so you can be an Italian grandmother too. It's harder than it looks.

Place the shaped pasta on a lightly floured baking sheet, making sure they don't touch each other and sprinkling lightly with flour, and cover with a kitchen towel until ready to cook.

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil (add more salt than you think, a few healthy teaspoons at least). Drop the pasta in and cook, stirring frequently, for roughy three minutes, until it is al dente and no longer tastes too doughy. Drain immediately and toss with sauce and serve.

And last, the Bolognese. This isn't Rose's recipe, but that doesn't mean I didn't stand tip-toe for a just a minute while I peered into the pot. This Bolognese sauce is with pork sausage, red wine and a good dose of the simple tomato sauce featured above. The pork adds richess, the wine adds depth and the tomato sauce adds a fresh tomato flavor, that helps to highlight the pork and wine, really it's just a big circle, all the ingredients playing of the others.

// pork bolognese sauce //

adapted from Mario Batali, Babbo

* this is the recipe cut in half, feel free to double it

- 225 - 450 g // 1/2 - 1 lb pork sausage, ground or removed from casing and broken apart

- 30 ml // 2 tablespoon olive oil

- 1 carrot, finely chopped

- 1 onion, finely chopped

- 1 celery rib, finely chopped

- 1/2 cup red wine

- 1/2 cup canned tomatoes.

- salt and pepper to tate

- 1 1/2 - 2 cups simple tomato sauce (see above) or basic sauce of your choice

In a Dutch oven or heavy bottomed pot, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Place the sausage in the pan and cook, stirring occasionally to avoid sticking, until browned. (My pork did not produce that much fat, but if yours does be sure to empty the pan of excess fat to avoid deep frying the meat). Remove the meat and set aside. Remove excess fat from pan (I didn't do this as I didn't have that much). Add the chopped carrot, onion and celery to the pan and sauté over medium heat tender, but not browned, about 6-10 minutes. Add the red wine and scrape the bottom of the pan to dislodge the pork bits. Add the pork back to the pot and pour in the canned tomatoes and continue to stir. Bring the mixture to a boil and allow some of the wine to cook off. When the sauce is looking thicker, add the tomato sauce. Bring to a boil again and then reduce to a slow but steady simmer. Cook for 30-45 minutes, stirring once every 7-10 minutes or so to make sure the sauce doesn't stick to the bottom of the pan. If the sauce is too thick add some more tomato sauce until it reaches your desired consistency. Salt to taste and serve.

If you are using all the of the sauce, then pour your cooked pasta right into the pot, mix to coat, and serve!

Phew, that was a long post and I wish I could hangout in the sun with a glass of wine. That was a good day. But today will be a good day too because I have a jar of that simple tomato sauce in the fridge and some potatoes that are begging to be turned into gnocchi. Zach and I have a new rule, we can eat as much pasta as we want as long as it is homemade. Sounds like a good deal to me especially since he has taken on the role of kneading and I just get to shape it.

A note about our trip. If we were to go back, I think we would go when it's warm but not crowded (May, June, September) and stay at a Masseria, probably this one, but maybe this one, where we did the cooking class. That way we could enjoy the beach during the day and home cooked meals at night. We'd have the flexibility to explore, but we wouldn't feel like we had to go on an adventure everyday. Once all of the Apulia posts are up I will try and gather my thoughts in a single page and post it in the travel section.

Burgundy hotel

Yes, those are cow-donkey-mini pony-type animals grazing on the front lawn. Too funny.

So Zach's track record with hotels is not good, at all. The last hotel he booked we almost up and left before even setting down our bags. The hotel, if you could even call it that, was tired, dirty, depressing and really really far away from anything. The rooms were furnished with furniture from the early 80's, furniture that looked like was pulled right off the street and into the hotel. The couch was patterned with sagging cushions, the bed made with yellow jersey material sheets and the bathroom was brown all over. It was unpleasant, and it wasn't cheap, but by approaching it only as a place to sleep and spending the rest of our time outdoors we managed to make it work, but not happiliy.

Since then Zach has learned about tripadvisor and jetsetter and the value of advice from friends. And he put all that new knowledge to use when he booked our hotel in Burgundy. The hotel, called Abbaye De La Bussière, is located between Dijon and Beaunne in a little wine village, and dates back to the 12th century when it was built as a monastery. Zach pretty much redemed himself because not only were the grounds incredible and the interior vastly cozy, but the Abbaye restaurant has a Michelin star. It's crazy to think that we actually debated whether or not we should eat there, wondering instead if we should try and get a more local experience in Beaune, but thankfully we had our wits about us and made a reservation. It was arguably one of the best and most interesting meals that either of us had ever eaten.

So a bit about the meal. You could approach the menu a variety of different ways. There was the seven course 'house special' menu, the terrain menu with food from the region and then the a la carte menu, where you could simply create your experience. Zach and I both went with the latter option because we wanted to scatter our choices across lots of different things. Zach started with doe, dried and tartar, and then followed with the duck, seared breast and confit. And I chose the truffle risotto and the scallops. Everything we ate was perfectly paired and wonderfully flavored. Our palates literally woke up. I should also mention that we were served a variety of things that we didn't order. To start we munched on goat cheese fritters, a spoonful of salmon tartar and a cracker with foie gras, and then before our appetizers arrived we were served seared beef in a soy based sauce. Before you continue reading and I continue typing as if those things are common fare you should know that I was once a picky eater and that in fact that was the first time I had ever tried foie gras and raw beef. And they were both delicious, especially the beef. It was lightly seared on all sides, sliced thin but not too thin and served on a square plate. I think there was as much oh-my-goodness-this-is-so-freaking-good staring at each other as there was actual conversation. My fingers are crossed that we will find ourselves back at this hotel before long, perhaps in a different season when we can step outside in short sleeves and hop around to the vineyards and taste wine. Until then I'll continue browsing jetsetter and travel magazines and keeping up my where-to-go next file.

Beef Bourguignon and a trip to Beaune

It was a wonderful weekend. Zach planned the trip -- rented a car and found an amazing hotel - on Thursday and we zipped off on Friday. Often short notice can mean stress and confusion, but our trip to Burgundy was nothing of the sort. It was peaceful and exciting, filled with new scenery and lots of opportunities to say 'bon appetit', which in itself should constitute a good trip.

Our hotel was nestled amongst the vineyards in a little town called La Bussière sur Ouche which is just between Beaune and Dijon. Initially we thought we'd spend our time in Dijon, but after doing some quick reading and learning that Beaune is a charming city and that there is a market on Saturdays, we changed our plan and headed south to Beaune.

Peak tourist season is long behind us and far ahead of us, which really made it seem like we had an authentic experience in little Beaune. We wandered through the market, bought a baguette and continued wandering through the streets, eating our baguette as we went. Unfortunately it was rather rainy and cold so we wandered ourselves right into a cozy little cafe called Le Bistrot Bourguignon. We were too early for lunch so we nestled with our books and a cappucino, which eventually turned into a glass of local red wine and to go with our second glass was the house special of Boeuf Bourguignon. And so since you couldn't be there with us (next time?) hopefully this post, and the recipe that follows, will help transport you, and your taste buds, to a little French village (now is a good time to pour yourself a glass of wine).

Beef Bourguignon is one of those dishes that can be made a variety of different ways, spun to your pleasure however you like it. I chose to use Julia Child's recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking. I borrowed (more like 'took' when you live 3000 miles away) one of my mom's copies of the book and there is only one post-it note peaking out of the pages, and it is firmly stuck to page 315, Boeuf Bourguignon, and that was reason enough for me to use Julia's recipe. And it turns out that was a great decision because her recipe is fairly simple and leads to a delicious, tender, and incredibly flavorful stew.

The scene at Le Bistrot Bourguignon was soul inspiring. We arrived at roughly 11:30 and there was already a group of people at the bar, market bags sitting on the floor or open on the counter, and everyone was talking and drinking white wine and enjoying themselves. We felt lucky to have happened on this convivial scene, but we remained to ourselves, in the corner, with a good view of everything that was going on.

There was red wine and gourgères and lots of people-watching as we nestled into our little corner of the restaurant. And of course there was beef bourguignon, served in a little coquette along side a pile of egg noodles. We both polished our plates and glasses and then set out for a mini driving adventure through the countryside. Just drivin' along and bam, a massive château appears in the distance. Jot this down as a you-know-you're-in-Europe-when moment. We drove through the stone town, up to the château and then walked around the perimeter since it was closed for the season. It is called Le Château de La Rochepot and it's definitely worth a driveby/walk around.
Sometimes rainy days make for better pictures. They give you a better sense of the atmosphere of a place. Sadly this picture of Zach is out of focus, but like a rainy day, I think it give the photo a sense of place, maybe even more so than if it was in focus.

I made Zach stop for photos shoots every once and awhile, but the one I was most adamant about was the stop for a cow photo-op. The pure white cows that dot the landscape are what give Beef Bourguignon its name; local eating at its best. I wish I had been able to bring some home, but with the lack of in-room refrigerator and a long drive back to Zurich it just didn't make sense. Perhaps next time we go we'll rent an apartment and spend the weekend cooking.

on to the recipe...
Beef Bourguignon

Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking

* note : since it is only the two of us and meat is a fortune in Zurich I only used 1 lb of meat and adjusted the recipe accordingly. The recipe that follows is the recipe as written by Child

* wine note : like the beef, the dish is traditionally made with ingredients from Burgundy, so a red wine from the region is a good place to start. Julia notes that you should use a full-bodied, young red wine, such as Beaujolais, Côtes du Rhône, Bordeaux-St. Emilion, or Burgundy.

For 6 people

- 6 oz chunk of bacon

- 1 tablespoon olive oil

- 3 lbs lean stewing beef cut into 2-inch cubes

- 1 sliced carrot

- 1 sliced onion

- 1 teaspoon salt

- 1/4 teaspoon pepper

- 2 tablespoons flour

- 3 cups red wine

- 2-3 cups beef stock or canned beef bouillon

- 1 tablespoon tomato paste

- 2 garlic cloves, smashed

- 1/2 teaspoon thyme

- a crumbled bay leaf

- 18-24 small white onions (or canned)

if not using canned...

- 1 1/2 tablespoons butter

- 1 1/2 tablespoon olive oil

- 1/2 cup beef stock

- herb bouquet - 4 parsley sprigs, 1/2 bay leaf, 1/4 tsp thyme, all tied in a cheesecloth

- 1 lb mushrooms

- 4 tablespoons butter

- 2 tablespoon olive oil

- egg noodles or potatoes for serving

Preheat the oven to 450º

Begin with the bacon. Remove the rind and cut the bacon into sticks roughly 1/4-inch thick and 1 1/2-inch long. Simmer the bacon and the rind for 10 minutes in 1 1/2 quarts of water. Drain and dry.

Heat the tablespoon of olive oil in whatever oven-friendly bakeware you intend to make the stew in. Sauté the bacon in the oil over moderate heat until the bacon is lightly brown on all sides, about 2-3 minutes. Remove the bacon from the pan and set aside. Keep the bacon fat/oil in the pan.

Dry the beef cubes using paper towel. The beef won't brown unless it is dry. Sauté the beef in the bacon/oil a few pieces at a time, until nicely browned on all sides. Set aside with the bacon.

In the same fat brown the carrots and onions. Once browned pour out the fat.

Return the beef and bacon to the casserole and toss with salt, pepper and flour. Continue to toss until the beef is lightly coated in the flour, this will form a nice crust over the beef when it is in the oven. Place the casserole in the oven. Stir and toss the meat after 4 minutes. Return to the oven for another 4 minutes. Remove the casserole and turn the oven down to 325º

Stir in the wine and enough stock so that the meat is barely covered. Stir in the tomato paste, garlic, herbs and bacon rind. Bring to a simmer on top of the stove then cover the casserole and place it in the oven, regulating the heat as needed so that the liquid maintains a slow simmer. Allow it to cook for 3-4 hours until the meat is easily pierced with a fork and is tender.

While the beef is cooking prepare the onions and mushrooms. For the onions bring the butter and oil to bubble in a skillet, add the onions and sauté them over moderate heat for about 10 minutes. Toss the onions so that they brown evenly. Once browned pour in the stock, salt and pepper to taste and the herb bouquet. Cover and simmer slowly for 40-50 minutes until the onions are perfect tender but still retain their shape.

For the mushrooms...working in two batches, place a skillet over high heat with 1/2 the butter and the oil. When you see the butter foam subside add 1/2 the mushrooms (only as many as will fit). Toss and shake the pan for 4-5 minutes. As soon as they have browned lightly remove from heat and start with the second batch.

When the meat is tender strain the contents of the stew into a colander set over a pot (you want to save the liquid). Return the beef and bacon to the casserole (we kept the carrots and onions) and add the mushrooms and onions. Simmer the sauce for a minute or two. You should have roughly 2 1/2 cups of sauce. The sauce should lightly coat a spoon. If it is too thick add some stock and if it is too thin rapidly boil it down. Pour the sauce over the meat and vegetables and then pour yourself a glass of wine. Serve the meat with noodles or potatoes

Although we didn't leave the apartment on Sunday, except for that last dash to the store for tomato paste, we had quite the productive day of cooking, eating and tree decorating. Our tree is so mini, but when you have to carry it home on the tram you're limited to little trees.

Phew, this was a fun post to put together. And extra fun and special because all of the photos are film photos...as in I took a roll of 35mm film to get developed this morning and then ran to the store to pick it up this afternoon. I hope you enjoyed it...because there will be one or two more mini Burgundy posts.