Beef
Roast Beef for a Wedding Feast
At the inn, food was readily available, in the form of a modest wedding feast, including wine, fresh bread, and roast beef.
Dougal took me by the arm as I started for the stairs to freshen myself before eating.
“I want this marriage consummated, wi’ no uncertainty whatsoever,” Dougal instructed me firmly in an undertone. “There’s to be no question of it bein’ a legal union, and no way open for annulment, or we’re all riskin’ our necks.”
“Seems to me you’re doing that anyway,” I remarked crossly. “Mine, especially.”
Dougal patted me firmly on the rump.
“Dinna ye worry about that; ye just do your part.” He looked me over critically, as though judging my capacity to perform my role adequately.
“I kent Jamie’s father. If the lad’s much like him, ye’ll have no trouble at all. Ah, Jamie lad!” He hurried across the room, to where Jamie had come in from stabling the horses. From the look on Jamie’s face, he was getting his orders as well.
—Outlander, chapter 15, “Revelations of the Bridal Chamber”
Most modern wedding receptions involve some clinking cutlery, a toast from the best man, and a cheesy cover band—the buffet is usually a little more generous as well—but if you were hurled back two hundred years in time, forced to marry a virtual stranger, hungover, in someone else’s strong-smelling dress and a language other than your own, all on no more than a couple of glasses of port for breakfast, I’m willing to bet you’d accept roast beef, bread, and wine with a little more grace than your average bridezilla.
The top round cut makes an economical and delicious roast for a Sunday or special occasion dinner. It cooks in under an hour to leave plenty of time for visiting with guests and family.
Serves 6 or more
1 tablespoon olive oil
6 garlic cloves, minced or grated
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 teaspoon minced fresh rosemary leaves
3- to 4-pound (1.3 to 1.8 kilograms) top round beef roast
Method
Mix together the olive oil, garlic, salt, pepper, and rosemary in a small bowl. Smear the paste all over the roast, lightly rubbing it into the meat. Set the roast on a wire rack in a roasting pan and cover loosely with plastic. Rest on the counter for an hour to marinate and take the chill off the meat.
Move a rack to the middle rung and heat the oven to 350°F.
Roast the meat for 28 to 31 minutes per pound for medium rare (145°F on an instant-read thermometer), 30 to 34 minutes per pound for medium (160°F), and 40 to 45 minutes per pound for well-done (170°F). (Rare is not recommended for this cut of meat.)
Loosely tent the cooked roast with foil and allow it to rest for 15 minutes. Use the pan juices to make gravy, or skim the surface of fat, strain, season, and serve the jus alongside the roast.
Slice and serve hot with your favorite sides, or re-create Jamie and Claire’s wedding feast with a loaf of Honey-Buttermilk Oat Bread and copious amounts of wine to wash it all down.
Keep leftovers in the fridge up to 3 days.
Notes
• You can mash and grind the garlic, salt, peppercorns, and rosemary in a mortar and pestle. Mix in the olive oil to form a paste for the meat.
• Rest the roast after you remove it from the oven and before you carve it to ensure the juices are reabsorbed into the center of the meat. During the resting period, a roast’s internal temperature will also rise by a few degrees. Always remove a roast from the oven a few minutes before it reaches the desired temperature.
I was cautious, but we were welcomed with expansive motions, and invited to share the Gypsies’ dinner. It smelt delicious—some sort of stew—and I eagerly accepted the invitation, ignoring Murtagh’s dour speculations as to the basic nature of the beast that had provided the stew meat.
They spoke little English, and less Gaelic; we conversed largely in gestures, and a sort of bastard tongue that owed its parentage largely to French. It was warm and companionable in the caravan where we ate; men and women and children all ate casually from bowls, sitting wherever they could find space, dipping the succulent stew up with chunks of bread. It was the best food I had had in weeks, and I ate until my sides creaked. I could barely muster breath to sing, but did my best, humming along in the difficult spots, and leaving Murtagh to carry the tunes.
—Outlander, chapter 34, “Dougal’s Story”
In lieu of potatoes, which weren’t found in Highland vegetable plots until the last quarter of the eighteenth century, this stew is filled with leeks, root vegetables, and kale. Turnips, I have recently learned, arrived in Scotland with potatoes, so, technically, they shouldn’t be in here either, but this stew has become an Outlander Kitchen classic over the years, so in they stay.
A succulent beef stew made rich with stout and hearty with a fine collection of (mostly) traditional early-eighteenth-century Scottish vegetables.
Serves 6 to 8
Ingredients
2 pounds (900 grams) stew beef, cut into 2-inch cubes
¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons kosher salt, plus additional
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper, plus additional
¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper
3 medium leeks (white and light-green parts only), cut into 1-inch pieces
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
4 large cloves garlic, minced or grated
1½ cups stout or other dark beer
1 bunch kale, stemmed and shredded
3 medium carrots, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 small turnip, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
½ small rutabaga (yellow turnip), peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
2 fresh thyme sprigs
2 fresh rosemary sprigs
2 bay leaves
4 to 6 cups Brown Chicken or Beef Stock
2 tablespoons butter
Method
Pat the beef dry with paper towels. In a large bowl, combine the ¼ cup flour, salt, ground pepper, and cayenne pepper. Toss the beef in the flour until the cubes are lightly dusted on all sides.
Rinse the chopped leeks thoroughly in a bowl of cold water. Scoop them out with your hands or a slotted spoon, leaving the silt and sand behind. Shake dry in a clean dishcloth or salad spinner.
In a stockpot or Dutch oven, heat the oil over medium-high flame until shimmering. Brown the beef in batches, being careful not to overcrowd the pot, until the cubes have a dark golden crust all over, 2 to 3 minutes per side.
When the last batch of beef has been removed from the pot, add the leeks, garlic, and stout. Scrape up the brown bits with a wooden spoon, and boil for 3 minutes. Add the meat (and its juices), kale, carrots, turnips, rutabaga, herbs, and stock to cover. Stir and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and simmer, partially covered, until the meat is fork-tender, about 90 minutes. Remove the stems from the rosemary and thyme as well as the bay leaves.
Just before serving, use a fork to blend together the remaining 2 tablespoons flour with the butter. Stir this beurre manié into the hot stew and cook for another 5 to 7 minutes, until slightly thickened and glossy. Season with salt and pepper.
Serve hot with Brown Buns at Beauly or ladle over Spoon Bread.
Store leftovers in the fridge up to 3 days.
Notes
• The world’s bestselling stout is Guinness, but with so many micro- and small-batch local breweries, you should be able to find other varieties. Experiment!
• If you don’t cook with alcohol, replace the stout with more stock.
• This stew has a lot more meat in it than its eighteenth-century counterpart would have, and you can stretch it further by increasing the amount of vegetables, including potatoes, and/or by adding ½ cup barley. Add more stock or water as required.
Jared, who was consuming veal patties in a businesslike way, paused to swallow, then said, “Dinna trouble yourself about that, my dear. I’ve made up a list for you of useful acquaintances. I’ve written letters for ye to carry to several friends there, who will certainly lend ye assistance.”
He cut another sizable chunk of veal, wiped it through a puddle of wine sauce, and chewed it, while looking thoughtfully at Jamie.
Having evidently come to a decision of some kind, he swallowed, took a sip of wine, and said in a conversational voice, “We met on the level, Cousin.”
I stared at him in bewilderment, but Jamie, after a moment’s pause, replied, “And we parted on the square.”
—Voyager, chapter 40, “I Shall Go Down to the Sea”
During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the Portuguese archipelago of Madeira was an important port of call for ships on the way to the Americas and the East Indies. Merchants such as Jared loaded their ships with supplies and Madeira wine, which was fortified with brandy to extend its life on long voyages. As the ships passed through the tropics, the casks of Madeira heated and cooled repeatedly, inadvertently deepening and improving the wine’s flavor.
Today, Madeira’s unique winemaking process involves heating the wine for an extended period of time, as well as deliberately exposing the wine to increase evaporation. Its taste has changed very little in three hundred years, making this sauce virtually the same one served at the house in the rue Tremoulins.
Serves 6
Ingredients
1½ cups White Beef Stock
1 cup dry Madeira
¼ cup (4 tablespoons) butter
6 veal leg cutlets, pounded thin, about 2 pounds (900 grams) (see Notes)
1½ teaspoons kosher salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
Method
In a saucepan, boil the stock and Madeira together over medium-high heat until reduced by half, about 25 minutes. Stir in 2 tablespoons of butter and keep warm over low heat.
Pat the veal dry with paper towels and season with salt and pepper. Dredge each cutlet lightly in the flour.
In a heavy frying pan, heat the remaining 2 tablespoons butter with the olive oil over medium-high flame until bubbling. Cook the veal, in batches if necessary to avoid overcrowding the pan, until golden on both sides, turning once, 2 to 4 minutes per side, depending on their thickness. Rest the meat on a plate, loosely tented with foil, for 5 minutes.
Serve each cutlet in a pool of wine sauce and sprinkle parsley on top.
Notes
• I prefer leg cutlets for this recipe instead of ground veal patties, but use what is available and affordable, adjusting cooking times as required.
• Madeira is a robust wine that keeps indefinitely when stored, tightly capped, in the refrigerator. Splash it into gravies, sauces, stews, and risottos.
• No Madeira? Try dry Marsala, an Italian fortified wine from Sicily.
Brianna thought the gentleman in question looked too stupid to be dishonest, but refrained from saying so, merely shaking her head emphatically.
Young Jamie shrugged philosophically and resumed his scrutiny of the would-be bondsmen, walking around those who took his particular interest and peering at them closely, in a way she might have thought exceedingly rude had a number of other potential employers not been doing likewise.
“Bridies! Hot bridies!” A high-pitched screech cut through the rumble and racket of the hall, and Brianna turned to see an old woman elbowing her way robustly through the crowd, a steaming tray hung round her neck and a wooden spatula in hand.
The heavenly scent of fresh hot dough and spiced meat cut through the other pungencies in the hall, noticeable as the old woman’s calling. It had been a long time since breakfast, and Brianna dug in her pocket, feeling saliva fill her mouth.
—Drums of Autumn, chapter 35, “Bon Voyage”
Forfar Bridies are said to have first been made by Maggie Bridie, a traveling food seller who sold her hot, savory pies at the Buttermarket in Forfar, Forfarshire (now County Angus). Though it uses the same short crust pastry as a Cornish pasty, a bridie’s traditional filling of beef, onion, and suet is lighter in texture than that of its southern cousin, which also contains potato and rutabaga.
I have also included a vegetarian filling, because, while authenticity is important, most people these days understand the benefits of a vegetable-rich diet. If Claire were here, I’m sure she would approve.
Makes 8
(4 meat, 4 veggie)
Ingredients
1 pound (450 grams) sirloin or top round, minced (see Knife Skills)
2 medium onions, diced
½ cup (1 stick) cold butter or suet, diced
3 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 large potato, peeled and diced
1 small turnip, diced
1 medium carrot, diced
6 ounces (170 grams or about 1 cup) shredded cheddar cheese
½ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
1 recipe Short Crust Pastry
1 large egg
Method
In a medium bowl, mix together the minced steak, half the onions, 4 tablespoons butter, 1½ teaspoons salt, and ½ teaspoon pepper. In a separate bowl, mix the potatoes, turnips, carrots, cheese, and red pepper flakes with the remaining onions, butter, salt, and pepper. Cover both bowls with a plate or plastic and refrigerate.
On a lightly floured board, roll out half of the pastry into a circle. Turn and loosen the dough occasionally as you continue to roll the pastry out into a circle or square that is an even ⅛ inch thick. Cut four 6-inch circles from the dough, then roll each circle to lengthen it into a slight oval.
Pile one-fourth of the meat filling (packed ½ cup) onto the top center of each oval, leaving a 1-inch border. Wet the top edge of the pastry sparingly with water, and fold the bottom half over to make a half-moon. Press the edges firmly together and crimp to seal well (see Notes). With a sharp knife, make a slit in the top of each pie to vent steam.
Repeat with the remaining pastry and the vegetarian filling to make another four pies.
Wrap and refrigerate the filled pies for at least 30 minutes, and up to overnight.
Move the racks to the upper- and lower-center rungs and heat the oven to 400°F.
Lightly beat the egg with 1 teaspoon water. Brush the tops of the bridies sparingly with the egg wash and bake on parchment paper–lined baking sheets for 30 to 40 minutes, until golden brown, turning and rotating the sheets halfway through. Cool at least 10 minutes on a wire rack.
Serve hot or cold. Pack into a basket along with a tartan blanket and flask of Laoghaire’s Whiskey Sour for an afternoon picnic on an imagined Highland hillside.
Store cooked bridies in the fridge up to 3 days.
Notes
• Most modern bridies in pie shops contain ground meat, which you are free to use, but the texture of the cooked hand-minced meat is superior and worth the extra effort.
• To crimp, roll and press the edge of the dough under itself as you work left to right. You can find good instructional videos on YouTube.
• To make cheese straws from the leftover dough, brush the pastry scraps with leftover egg wash, sprinkle sparingly with strong cheese, twist, and bake at 375°F until golden.
