What do you want to do after you’ve just had a freakin’ bitchin’ kite session? (Erm, I don’t actually talk like this normally, but when in Rome…) Eat. Sleep. Repeat. That’s about it… Well, this brisket recipe doesn’t really count as cooking. It took about 15 minutes to put together, then I just stuck it in the oven for a couple of hours, snoozed and woke up to glorious stewy, winey smells. Managed to fit in a couple of jacket potatoes in the oven alongside the pan for the last hour and dinner was, rather proudly, served. Then it was straight back on the sofa to blearily watch Martin Sheen transform into Einstein (he was super as he was in The Queen, although I couldn’t help transposing that Blairite grin he did so well on to Einstein’s face).
A note on cuts of meat
Having lived in Italy, the UK and now the USA, I’m now the most confused person ever when it comes to cuts of meat and what to ask for at the meat counter. I’ve got zero faith that pimply ex-shelf stackers even know what the animal looked like when alive, so I just pretend to know exactly what I’m talking about and direct loudly accordingly. Hence I somehow ended up with brisket, in Miami, in April, when I’m sure it’s more suited to Colorado in November.
I find those diagrams of animals with all their post-abbatoir body parts named really helpful in translating. This USA beef cuts (png) file is an American version that I scanned from BLT Steak in Miami – it has helpful cooking hints too. Brisket is in the same sort of area (just above the front legs) in the UK, but seems to be a more strictly defined area.
In Italy there are probably thirty different names according to which region you live in and what your butcher’s grandmother called it, so let’s not even go there. However I can heartily recommend sealing your moniker as “that strange English lady” by pantomiming the part of the cow you want in front of a whole butchershop full of beady-eyed old signore.
Beek brisket with leeks and orange
Serves 2
- 1½ lb beef brisket at room temperature
- ½ large onion
- 2 anchovies under oil
- 4 leeks
- 1 tbsp picked thyme leaves
- A long, wide strip of zest from an orange taken using a vegetable peeler
- 1 bay leaf
- A few peppercorns
- 250ml white wine
- 500ml beef stock, from a cube is fine
Preheat the oven to 150˚C.
Find an ovensafe pan or casserole dish with a lid that is large enough to contain the brisket lying down. Season the brisket generously on both sides. Heat about 2 tbsps olive oil and brown the meat on both sides until nicely coloured. Remove to a plate.
Meanwhile, finely chop the onion and cut the leeks into thick rounds and wash well. Heat the stock until just boiling.
Lower the heat under the pan and saute the onion until translucent in the remaining oil. When it’s soft, add the anchovies in little pieces, stirring and pressing down on them until they dissolve into the sauce. Then add the leeks and thyme and stir for a few minutes until starting to soften. Put the brisket back in the pan, fat uppermost, nestling it down into the leeks.
Turn the heat up once more and pour over the wine, bay leaf, strip of orange zest and peppercorns. Once it starts to bubble, add the stock too – there should be enough liquid to come about two-thirds of the way up the joint. Make sure everything is simmering nicely, put the lid on and cook in the oven for about 2 hours. Rest in the pan for 15-30 minutes.
To serve: remove the brisket to a board and carve into slices across the grain. Use a slotted spoon to lift the leeks out of the pan, avoiding the bay leaf and orange zest strip. We ate this with jacket potatoes and sour cream.
