Did you ask for it? No! Are you getting it? Yes!
My oxtail stew recipe* . . .
Why oxtail stew, you ask? Assuming you don’t object to red meat (sorry, Shaina), it’s delicious. Unlike beef, oxtails retain their flavor even after long cooking, so it’s an ideal crockpot or overnight stew. Indeed, you can’t rush oxtail stew.
It’s a cheaper version of ossobuco and every bit as good. Since I can’t often find veal shanks in our grocery store, this is the closest I can get to ossobuco.
You’ll want two good-sized oxtail pieces for each adult. Look for large-diameter, meaty, close-to-the-butthole pieces (because that’s where it’s most flavorful!) You’ll use the little pieces, too; not so much for the meat, but they do add flavor to the stew.
Preheat oven — anywhere from 275F to 350F, depending on how long you plan on letting it cook. Low heat/slow cook is best. Typically, I’ll set it up in the early afternoon and cook it at least four hours, maybe five, at 300 to 325F. At 350F, I suspect it would still take at least 3 hours for the oxtails to become tender.
Sprinkle the oxtail pieces with salt and pepper, then lightly dust with flour. In a Dutch oven, brown the pieces in olive oil on all sides. If you do this over medium to medium-high heat, the flour and oil will form a little roux at the bottom of the Dutch oven. Save this. If the heat gets too high, the roux will burn. Don’t save this. So: great if you can manage to get that little bit of roux, but don’t stress out if it burns. Just throw it away and use fresh vegetable oil for your vegies.
That’s the next step. Once you’ve browned the oxtails, set them aside and saute some vegies. I like a traditional mirepoix of yellow onions, carrots, and celery, but I also add chopped button mushrooms or portabellas. Dice them all quite fine. Chop up some garlic cloves while you’re at it, but add them only after you’ve sauteed the vegies. Continue sauteeing until fragrant. In other words, don’t burn the damned garlic.
Add a cup of a full-bodied red wine. Boil off the alcohol. Add the browned oxtails. In honor of George W. Bush’s all-time-low approval rating, add a 28-ounce can of crushed tomatoes (I like S&W) on top of the oxtails. Add a bit of salt and pepper (you can always add more later) and shove a few bay leaves down, down, down deep into the stew. I also add about a half-teaspoon of dry thyme and a good pinch of oregano.
Heat to a simmer. Put the lid on. Shove it into the oven and cook the crap out of it.
By the way: the liquid in the stew ought to come close to the top surface of the oxtails. Add some stock if necessary — chicken, beef, vegetable, doesn’t matter what kind of stock.
After the stew has been cooking at least three or four hours, take it out of the oven. Taste one of the oxtails: the meat should pull away from the gristle and melt in your mouth. If it’s tough, you haven’t cooked it long enough. This dish tastes better the next day, so you have no excuse to undercook it.
Stir well, flipping the tails. Now taste the stewy part. (You might need to spoon away some of the fat.) Adjust for salt and pepper. You can add some lemon zest, chopped Italian parsley, and chopped fresh garlic if the stew tastes too bland, but that is usually not a problem.
Serve with crusty French bread. Questions? (If you’ve never eaten oxtails, you’ll soon be asking: Now, how the hell do I eat one of these? But it ain’t that tough. The meat should peel away from the gristle with little effort. If it doesn’t, it’s undercooked.)
D.
*Old-timers here knows what it means when I’m posting recipes. Means I’m bone tired, too tired to do anything truly creative. Sorry, Corn Dog, the ant post will have to wait.
Now oddly enough, this recipe sent me scambling for Wikipedia, because from where I’m at, the term “Dutch oven” generally refers to something that you generally wouldn’t apply to anything edible (Though the irony of selecting the parts of the tail closest to the *rsehole doesn’t escape me).
Here they’re called “Camp ovens”. Who knows, political correctness may creep in here, and they’ll be “Alternately oriented and somewhat flambouyant with it – ovens” soon enough.
And posting recipes is still writing practice ….
j.
Heh. Sorry you’re tired. Me, too. As evidenced by the fact that I sat there for a second thinking “what? Smith & Wesson makes canned tomatoes?”
ewewewewewwwwww…poor oxen. ew. ew. ew.
Your ox looks like he’s been drinking (or hanging out with Paula Abdul). Sounds pretty tasty. If I can come up with another name for it, something that won’t gross out the kids, I may try it this weekend.
Get some rest. Don’t worry about the ant post. My imagination is running wild o’er here.
So, microsaur, where are you from? I wanna be careful not to ask for a “Dutch oven”, apparently!
Hanging out with Paula Abdul? That is Paula Abdul! I wanted a picture of an ox, but that was the closest I could find.
sxKitten, it’s the best relatively simple stew out there. Beef burgundy is a tiny bit better, but it’s 5x more work.
cd, if I can dream up a way to write a new & different ear foreign body post, I will!
I don’t know about microsoar’s definition, but my brother had a giggle fit when he helped me pack up my last apartment.
Him, marker in hand, ready to label: “What’s in this box?”
Me: “A Dutch oven.”
Him: “BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Of course, at this point I was forced to pester him until he told me what a “dutch oven” was in his world.
Apparently, if you trap your bedroom companion under the blankets of your bed and then proceed to pass gas, it’s called a dutch oven.
Who knew?
I certainly didn’t. LOL
Walnut writes:
> So, microsaur, where are you from?
> I wanna be careful not to ask for
> a “Dutch ovenâ€, apparently!
You’d have to come all the way “down under” to ask for one here. But Kris’ brother is on the money, so it sounds to me as if this interpretation has significantly wider currency.
Sorry you’re tired, but this sounds like good eatin’. Too bad I’ll never get a chance to make it in this household, unless rs. Nator finds some version of tofox tails…
Dean shares Kris’ brother’s definition. I have told him such an act would be a relationship-killer.
Hurrah for the rich cultural diversity of the Nederlands – the country that also bought you “Going Dutch”, otherwise known as the Dutch Treat.
Of course, like French “letters”, the attribution might be spurious…
And anyway, Walnut, a “furry rat” owner has little to fear from the simple “dutch oven”.