I have been known to say, “A day without pork is a day without sunshine.” However, occasionally eating meatless is a choice I have made for years with my own diet. It may seem shocking with my Southern heritage and French training, especially at the beginning of a thick, juicy chapter on meat. Until major developments in meat production after World War II, we as a nation, especially the people of the impoverished South, did not consume massive amounts of meat. Meat was not part of every meal or even consumed every day. Meat was not a choice; it was a luxury. Today, many people feel meat eating is a luxury in terms of both health and environmental consequences.
One family who has seen the ebb and flow of meat, especially beef, consumption is the Harris family of Bluffton, Georgia. Will Harris III is a fifth-generation cattleman. Will’s ancestor founded White Oak Pastures in the late 1800s, after returning home from the Civil War. Will is a cowboy straight out of central casting. He’s tall and rugged with a rich, deep voice—and a legendary drawl that makes the ladies swoon. He is a Deep South cattleman from the top of his Stetson hat to the tip of his well-worn leather boots.
Until the years following World War II, the Harris family raised cattle as they always had, as free-range beef. After the war, “improvements” were made in production, pastures were fertilized for year-round green grass, herd size was increased, and antibiotics and hormones were developed to keep the animals healthy. It was science; it was progress.
Dispensing antibiotics to healthy animals has become routine on the large, concentrated farms that now dominate American agriculture. Grain-fed cattle spend most of their lives eating grass in pastures, and then move on to a feedlot where they eat an inexpensive, high-calorie grain diet for three to six months.
Will raised his cattle in pastures his family had been farming for decades, but then had to send them to the Midwest for corn finishing. He grew to despise sending his cattle off in double-decker trucks on a journey that would take them across the country, without food and water for several days, the cattle on the upper level soiling the animals below.
Will says it just wasn’t right. Actually, I think one of his more salty quotes was, “It was like raising your daughter to be a princess and then hauling her off to the whorehouse.” So, he stopped. He made a choice to buck the system and return to the methods his forebears used: traditional, sustainable, and humane. His beef now meets the Humane Farm Animal Care standards, which include “a nutritious diet without antibiotics or hormones, animals raised with shelter, resting areas, sufficient space, and the ability to engage in natural behaviors.”
According to Will, these standards are not just better for the cattle; it’s better for the consumer and the environment, too. Grass-fed beef is higher in beta-carotene, vitamin E, and omega-3 fatty acids than traditionally raised beef. The diet of grass-fed cattle creates a naturally alkaline stomach, minimizing the possibility of E. coli contamination. His and other grass-fed cattle consume a purely vegetarian diet that contains no animal by-products, thereby virtually eliminating the opportunity for bovine spongiform encephalopathy, or mad cow disease. In terms of environmental impact, when cattle are raised outdoors on pasture, their manure is spread over a wide area of land, making it a welcome source of organic fertilizer, not a waste-management problem.
The trouble with all those benefits is that they come at a cost. Grass-fed meat is more expensive, generally three times as much. There’s just not that much grass-fed beef, as well. Large-scale meat plants slaughter more cows at one plant in one hour than Will does in two weeks. It’s simple supply and demand.
Another interesting consequence is flavor. Grass-fed beef is more intense, full flavored, and meaty—just exactly what most Americans don’t want. Grain finishing increases the intramuscular fat in cattle. The result is rich marbling, which makes the meat tender and moist. (Humans are hardwired to like the flavor of fat. Fat is like a drug, and like addicts, we are overdoing it.) Even riding the wave of local and sustainable, chefs are struggling to serve grass-fed meat. A restaurant can’t keep its doors open selling customers what they perceive as “tough” steaks that cost three times as much.
Fatty, tender, and moist meat? Sounds like pork, the hands-down Southern favorite. The Spanish introduced pigs to Florida in the mid-1500s. The animals later made their way north to Georgia, where they came to be appreciated for their ability to forage for food, while pastoral cattle proved to be more expensive to feed.
The same issues exist with factory farming in pork production as with beef. In fact, it’s a larger problem in the South because of the long relationship the South has had with the pig and general absence of large-operation cattle farming. Communities are split in this hard economy over the economic potential of allowing large farms in—or more likely, choosing not to sue to keep them out—versus waste runoff from raising thousands and thousands of pigs at once.
There’s a reason ham is so cheap. Massive-scale farming and government subsidies lower the price. To complicate the issue even further, the problems aren’t exclusive to “factory farms.” The “Giant Meat Company” doesn’t always actually own the farm itself. Often the farmers are contracted to sell to the “Giant Meat Company,” and the sellers, the farmers, are forced to accept the prices and growing conditions dictated by the meat giants. It gets worse. Not only do behemoths overwhelm farmers with their sheer size, they also directly compete with farmers, further giving the conglomerates leverage on price. Plenty of honest, good, hardworking men and women labor long hours to put that ham on your plate. Their livelihoods are wrapped up in the system. It’s not always a factory; it’s a family.
Some farmers have responded by converting to raising heirloom or heritage breeds that are more suitable to free-range outdoor systems. However, this is being done on a very small scale. Outdoor systems are usually less economically productive, and the meat is more expensive. Once again, it’s all about supply and demand.
Sheep have been raised in the South for centuries. Historical evidence from the 1700s and 1800s suggest that lamb and wool production were important. However, the production of lamb and sheep has been declining both nationally and in the South since World War II, coinciding with the growth of large-scale farming. Sheep do better in pastoral environments. Growing up, my personal exposure to lamb was very limited. Neither Meme nor Mama cooked it, and I didn’t learn how to prepare it until I worked with my French-trained mentor, Nathalie Dupree. The lamb recipes in this chapter are reflective of my time in France.
Eating meat is a choice, whether beef, pork, or lamb. I love to eat meat and as a chef, I love to cook meat. As often as possible, I purchase from my local farmer, but I am not going to lie and tell you that’s all I ever eat. It’s simply not realistic for most people to eat local, sustainable meat. For many the cost is too high, and the resources are too limited. My suggestion is, when you can choose it, do.
Here I offer you a selection of delicious Basic recipes with their stunning Brilliant counterparts, so that when you do make the choice to eat meat, you are able to really enjoy it.
Blue/Bleu
The steak is seared on both sides and when cut, it is very red, almost blue, with a cool center. When inserted into the thickest part of a steak at an angle and avoiding the bones and pan surfaces, an instant-read thermometer reads 115°F.
The steak is seared on both sides, yet the center is red and just slightly warmed. When inserted into the thickest part of a steak at an angle and avoiding the bones and pan surfaces, an instant-read thermometer reads 120°F to 130°F.
The steak is seared on both sides and the center is firm, pink, and hot. When inserted into the thickest part of a steak at an angle and avoiding the bones and pan surfaces, an instant-read thermometer reads 140°F to 155°F.
The meat is firm to the touch without a trace of pink. In my opinion, it’s a waste of money for steak. When inserted into the thickest part of a steak at an angle and avoiding the bones and pan surfaces, an instant-read thermometer reads 155°F to 165°F.
SERVES 4
Skirt steak is an interior muscle, the diaphragm, of the cow. It is prized for its meaty, intense flavor, rather than for its tenderness. Faja translates as “belt” in Spanish and is the origin of the word fajitas. The French term for the cut is bavette, which means “ribbon.” The muscle is long and thin, like a belt or ribbon. Skirt steak is a relatively inexpensive cut; it was traditionally one of the cuts the butcher would take home to his family. It has become increasingly available in recent years as stores try to satisfy customer demand for more affordable beef. If you are unable to find it in your local grocery store, look to an Hispanic carniceria, or “meat market.”
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon firmly packed dark brown sugar
4 shallots, sliced
½ cup red wine vinegar
1 cup dry red wine
1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 pounds skirt steak
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 teaspoons quatre épices or Chinese five spice powder
1 tablespoon canola oil
To make the marmalade, melt the butter in a heavy saucepan over medium heat. Add the shallots and brown sugar and cook until the shallots are a rich brown and caramelized, about 10 minutes. Add the vinegar and wine. Bring to a boil, then decrease the heat to low and cook until well reduced and thick, about 20 minutes. Add the thyme, then taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Keep warm.
Meanwhile, remove the steaks from the refrigerator and allow to come to room temperature, about 20 minutes. Pat dry with paper towels and season with salt and pepper. Sprinkle over the quatre épices.
Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add the steaks and cook, turning once, for about 3 minutes per side for medium-rare. (Skirt needs to be cooked to medium-rare; it’s too tough to be cooked blue or rare.) Transfer the steaks to a cutting board, preferably with a moat to catch the meaty juices. Tent with foil to rest and let the juices redistribute, about 2 minutes. Slice on the diagonal against the grain. Tip any accumulated juices into the marmalade and stir to combine. Serve the steak on warmed plates with the marmalade on the side.
The skirt steak is a Brilliant piece of meat for a roulade. It is long, thin, and flat. This means that when the skirt steak is rolled, cooked, and sliced, the meat fibers are going to be short and thus easy to chew.
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Prepare the Shallot Marmalade and let cool slightly. Meanwhile, cut the steaks crosswise at 4-inch intervals. Cut a sealable freezer bag into two sheets and put a steak between the two. Pound it with a flat meat pounder or the bottom of a heavy skillet until it is ¼ inch thick. (The idea is to create an evenly thin piece of meat, not beat it senseless.) Repeat with the remaining pieces of meat. Season both sides of the steaks with coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper. Spread the marmalade over one side of the steak. Roll the steak from the short side into a pinwheel and then tie to secure with kitchen twine. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat until it is shimmering. Cook the rolls on all sides until browned and medium-rare, about 8 minutes. Remove the twine and slice into ½-inch pinwheels with a sharp knife.
SERVES 4
My grandfather raised grass-fed cattle when I was growing up. He put a salt lick, a block of salt provided as a nutritional supplement, out in the pasture for them, but the only corn they ever saw was the cobs tossed out after one of Meme’s mammoth corn “puttin’ up” sessions.
Steaks from grass-fed cattle aren’t as marbled with fat as the rib-eye and strip steaks from corn-fed cattle. Rib-eye steaks are one of the more popular—and expensive—steaks. NY strip steaks are also known as Texas, Kansas City, or just plain old strip steaks. They are still more pricey than the skirt steak in the previous recipe, but not as expensive as rib-eye steaks. They are cut from the loin after the tenderloin is removed. The remaining muscle, known as the shell, is cut into strip steaks. The meaty flavor of mushrooms is a natural partnership with a flavorful, meaty steak.
4 (6- to 8-ounce) boneless NY strip steaks (about 1 inch thick)
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons canola oil
1 pound mixed mushrooms (such as cremini, chanterelle, morel, shiitake, and white button), sliced
¼ cup dry red wine
¼ cup homemade beef stock or reduced-fat, low-sodium beef broth
1 tablespoon unsalted butter (optional)
Remove the steaks from the refrigerator and allow to come to room temperature, about 20 minutes. Pat dry with paper towels and season with salt and pepper.
Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a large skillet over high heat until it is shimmering. Add the steaks and cook for 3 to 4 to minutes per side for medium-rare. Transfer the steaks to a cutting board, preferably with a moat to catch the meaty juices. Tent with foil to rest and let the juices redistribute.
Heat the remaining 1 tablespoon oil in the same skillet over medium high heat. Add the mushrooms and season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until just tender, 3 to 4 minutes. Add the wine and stock to the skillet. Cook until slightly reduced, about 3 minutes. Tip any accumulated juices from the resting meat into the skillet. Remove the skillet from the heat. Add the butter and swirl to combine. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Serve the steaks topped with the mushroom wine sauce.
A heady dose of umami-rich dried mushrooms takes this cowboy steak to chef-worthy Brilliant. Put 1 ounce dried mushrooms (such as porcini, shiitake, chanterelle, or morel) and 1 sprig rosemary, coarsely chopped, in a food processor fitted with a metal blade. Purée until very finely ground. Transfer to a shallow plate. Makes about ¼ cup. Coat both sides of the room- temperature steaks in the porcini-rosemary mixture. Cook as directed.
Checking a steak for doneness by touch and feel is an inexact science. My internship with Nora Pouillon was on the line, grilling steaks, and I learned it takes practice to get it right. Work with an instant-read thermometer to get an idea of the feel of the steak to the corresponding temperature. First, touch a raw steak with your forefinger. Then, feel the fleshy part of the top of your hand, between the thumb and forefinger, to approximate the soft, squishy feel of raw meat. Next, grasp a pencil in your hand. Touch the top of your hand again. The muscles will have tightened slightly. This is the feeling of rare meat. The tighter your fist, the more the feel corresponds to well-done meat.
SERVES 6
Salisbury steak, known on French bistro menus as bifteck haché, is made by mixing ground beef with minced or grated onion, shaping it into a patty, and frying or broiling it. It is often served with a rich gravy made from pan drippings. The preparation was named after a nineteenth-century American physician, Dr. J. H. Salisbury, who recommended that his patients eat plenty of beef for all manner of ailments. Oddly enough, when my mother was pregnant with my sister and me, her doctor told her to eat very rare beef. Can you imagine hearing that advice today?
I remember having this meal often when I was young. Inexpensive, filling, quick, and easy, it’s still a good meal for a family supper.
1 teaspoon canola oil, plus more for the broiler pan
½ onion, preferably Vidalia, grated
2 cloves garlic, very finely chopped
1½ pounds ground round beef
8 ounces ground pork
1 tablespoon chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 pound mixed mushrooms (such as cremini, chanterelle, morel, shiitake, and white button), sliced
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 cups pan drippings plus homemade beef stock or reduced-fat, low-sodium beef broth, or as needed
Position an oven rack 4 inches below the broiler and preheat the broiler.
Heat the oil in a small skillet over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until translucent, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, 45 to 60 seconds. Remove from the heat to cool slightly.
With clean hands, combine the ground beef, pork, parsley, and cooled onion mixture in a bowl; season with salt and pepper. (Sauté a spoonful of the mixture in a bit of oil to taste for seasoning.) Shape the mixture into 6 oval patties, about ½ inch thick. Place the patties on a broiler pan.
Broil until the meat is no longer pink in the center and an instant-read thermometer inserted into the center of the meat registers 160°F, about 6 minutes per side. Remove to a warmed serving platter and tent with foil to keep warm. Reserve the pan drippings for the gravy.
Heat 1 tablespoon of the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the mushrooms and season with salt and pepper. Cook until tender, about 5 minutes. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Remove from the skillet and keep warm.
Heat the remaining 2 tablespoons butter over medium heat in the same skillet until bubbling. Add the flour and cook until foamy. Pour the pan drippings into a 2-cup measure or fat separator. Remove the fat, then add enough beef stock to the drippings to make 2 cups. Whisking constantly, add the stock mixture to the butter-flour mixture. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly, and cook until the sauce thickens, about 5 minutes. Decrease the heat to simmer. Add the reserved cooked mushrooms with any accumulated liquid. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Serve immediately with the steaks.
Melted cheesy goodness takes Basic bifteck to chef-inspired Brilliant. Crumble 1¾ ounces blue cheese, such as Roquefort, to make about ½ cup. Take one-quarter of the meat mixture and shape into a flat patty; repeat to make 4 patties. Make a depression in the center of each patty and place 2 tablespoons blue cheese in the center. Form the meat around the cheese to enclose it, then shape into an oval patty about ½ inch thick. Refrigerate for up to 15 minutes. Proceed with the recipe as above.
SERVES 6 TO 8
My family grew up eating spaghetti with a traditional meat sauce. Well, sort of. … The meat was ground venison from a deer Daddy shot, and Mama always added Dede’s homemade scuppernong wine. She also used a McCormick’s seasoning packet, still does. (In my version I add porcini mushrooms to bolster the flavor instead.) This was one of those rare meals mama didn’t make completely from scratch. And, I am not sure why, but she always broke the spaghetti noodles in half and cooked them far, far past al dente, more like “all done.”
I’ve enjoyed Bolognese in Rome, “gravy” in Jersey City, and even served marinara sauce to none other than Giuliano Hazan, but Mama’s “Southern-style” sauce is still one of my favorite dishes in the world. Food memories are precious things. The sense of smell, more so than any other sense, is intimately linked to the parts of the brain that process emotion. One whiff of this and I am immediately transported to my childhood. Buon appetito, y’all!
1 tablespoon pure olive oil
1 onion, preferably Vidalia, chopped
8 ounces white button mushrooms, sliced
2 cloves garlic, very finely chopped
2 pounds ground venison, or 1 pound ground round beef and 1 pound ground turkey
2 (28-ounce) cans crushed tomatoes
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ ounce dried porcini mushrooms
¾ cup dry red wine
1 (16-ounce) package spaghetti
Heat the oil in a large saucepan or straight-sided skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onion and cook until translucent, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the mushrooms and sauté until the mushrooms are soft and all the liquid in the pan has evaporated, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, 45 to 60 seconds. Add the ground meat and crushed tomatoes. Season with salt and pepper. Using a wooden spoon, break up the meat into small chunks. Increase the heat and bring the mixture to a boil. Add the dried porcini and wine. Stir to combine. Decrease the heat to simmer and cook until thick, about 30 minutes. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper.
Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook until al dente, about 10 minutes or according to package instructions. Drain the spaghetti through a colander placed in a large serving bowl (to heat the bowl). Drain the water from the bowl and pat dry. Put the cooked spaghetti in the now-warmed bowl. Spoon over 1 large spoonful of the sauce and toss to coat. Spoon over several additional spoonfuls, depending on how many are at the table. Serve immediately.
Honestly, the most Brilliant thing about this is that there will be leftovers.
My friend and colleague Carlin Breinig, who is a personal chef, explained to me that recipe titles are supremely important when presenting to clients. The term casserole is considered too pedestrian, but a gratin is considered far too fancy. She finds the “bake” to be the perfect solution. It’s user friendly, not too snooty, and it doesn’t scream, “can of cream of mushroom soup.”
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Brush a casserole dish with oil. Set aside. For a half recipe, combine 4 cups sauce with 8 ounces cooked spaghetti or your preferred pasta shape in a large bowl. Add 2 lightly beaten eggs. Stir to combine. Transfer to the prepared dish and bake in the oven until heated through and set, about 30 minutes. No pretense, no fuss—just good.
SERVES 4 TO 6
Literally meaning “between the ribs,” entrecôte is the French term for a double cut, boneless rib eye. Hands down, no question, this is my favorite steak, although I often like a bone to gnaw on, too. Compound butter is a vehicle for flavor; here, it’s red wine, shallot, and garlic, though we could also use herbs or spices. A pat of compound butter melting on the charred crust of a smoking hot steak, the rich juices mingling … it is enough to make you want to avert your eyes in modesty. This technique is excellent for grilled or broiled steaks when there is no opportunity to make a pan sauce, or if you want to be able to make the “sauce” ahead.
1 cup dry red wine
1 shallot, sliced
1 clove garlic, smashed
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 tablespoon chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 (1¾-pound) boneless rib-eye steaks, each about 2 inches thick
2 tablespoons canola oil
Combine the red wine, shallot, and garlic in a small saucepan; bring to a boil over high heat. Boil until the wine is reduced to about 1 tablespoon, 12 to 15 minutes. Remove from the heat and cool. Put the butter in a food processor fitted with a metal blade. Add the cooled wine mixture and chopped parsley; season with salt and pepper. Pulse until well combined.
For immediate use, transfer to a bowl and set aside. For later use, transfer to a sheet of plastic wrap, roll the butter in the sheet, and twist the ends in opposite directions (like the wrapping on hard candy) to shape the butter into a uniform cylinder about 5 inches long. To store, wrap tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate for up to 1 week or freeze for up to 1 month.
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Meanwhile, remove the steaks from the refrigerator and let come to room temperature, about 20 minutes.
Pat the steaks dry with paper towels. Season on both sides with salt and pepper. Heat the oil in a large cast-iron skillet over high heat until shimmering. Add the steaks and sear on all sides until a rich brown crust forms, about 4 minutes per side, plus the thick edges. Once seared on all sides, transfer to the oven and cook to desired doneness, 15 to 17 minutes for rare (120°F to 130°F on an instant-read thermometer), or 17 to 20 minutes for medium (140°F to 155°F).
Meanwhile, if the butter is chilled, remove it from the refrigerator to come just to room temperature. Remove the steaks from the oven to a cutting board, preferably with a moat to catch the juices. Tent the steaks loosely with aluminum foil. Let the steaks rest and the juices redistribute, about 5 minutes. Slice the steaks into strips ¼ inch thick and assemble on warmed serving plates. Top with the red wine compound butter. Drizzle over any collected juices. Serve immediately.
The only thing that could be better than warm, buttery juices bathing the outside of a steak would be warm buttery juices gushing from the inside of a steak.
Slice the butter into tablespoon-size pats and freeze until firm. Place a raw steak on a clean work surface. Insert a thin slicing knife into the side of the steak. Rotate the tip of the knife to create an interior pocket without making the incision larger. Insert your index finger through the hole; push and press to separate the meat and balloon the interior. Insert 4 of the frozen pats of butter. Repeat with the remaining steak and butter. Insert one-quarter of a small sweet onion into the hole to seal the opening. Cook the steaks as directed above. Once the steaks have rested, cut them in half rather than in strips and serve on warmed plates. Scandalously Brilliant.
SERVES 8
For a steak, I love a bone-in rib eye with a crisp charred crust on the outside and rare tender meat on the inside. Although this prime rib roast is essentially four steaks bound together, I like to cook it to medium-rare. The reason for the difference is that a rib roast is marbled with fat and has a thick ribbon of fat running through the roast between the eye of the meat and the bone. When a steak is cooked quickly over high heat, it allows some of this fat to render. The larger roast doesn’t have the opportunity and the cold fatty texture is unpleasant.
Don’t add the potatoes at the beginning of cooking, otherwise they will be overcooked. Since the roast is going to rest for at least 15 minutes, and the potatoes only need about an hour to cook, add them when the roast has only 45 minutes to go. Then, when the roast is ready to come out of the oven, transfer the meat to a board to rest, but leave the potatoes in the oven, ensuring a well-rested roast with the juices redistributed, as well as crispy hot potatoes.
1 (8- to 9-pound) prime rib or standing rib roast (4 ribs)
4 to 5 cloves garlic, very thinly sliced and seasoned with salt and pepper
1 tablespoon canola oil
12 ounces fingerling potatoes, halved lengthwise
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
Remove the roast from the refrigerator. Using a paring knife, make ½-inch deep slits every 2 inches on all of the meaty sides of the roast. Insert a sliver of garlic into each slit. Set aside and let the roast stand at room temperature for 1 hour.
Preheat the oven to 450°F.
Season the meat all over with salt and pepper. Heat a large roasting pan over medium-high heat. Add the canola oil and heat until shimmering. Add the prepared prime rib, fat side down. Cook until dark brown and crusted on all sides, about 5 minutes per side. Finish with the roast meat side up and rib side down.
Roast for 15 minutes, then decrease the heat to 350°F and roast the meat for 18 to 20 minutes per pound, adding the potatoes and tossing them to coat in the pan drippings about 1 hour before the roast is expected to be done. The roast is done when an instant-read thermometer inserted into a fleshy section registers 115°F to 120°F for blue, 120°F to 130°F for rare, or 130°F to 140°F for medium-rare.
Remove the roast to a meat carving board and cover it loosely with foil. Let it rest for at least 15 and up to 30 minutes. (The temperature will increase another 5°F to 10°F.) Return the potatoes to the pan to continue cooking while the roast rests.
To carve, lay the roast on its side. Using a chef’s knife, remove the meat in one piece from the bone. Set aside the bones. Remove the potatoes from the oven. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Transfer to a warmed serving platter. Slice the meat against the grain into ¼-inch-thick slices. Serve immediately.
Garlic-Stuffed Prime Rib is even better when each slice is capped with a crisp herb crust.
Position an oven rack 4 inches below the broiler and preheat the broiler. In a small bowl, combine 1½ cups plain or whole-wheat fresh or panko (Japanese) breadcrumbs, ¼ cup chopped fresh mixed herbs (such as flat-leaf parsley, thyme, basil, rosemary, and chives), ¼ cup (1 ounce) freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, 2 tablespoons freshly grated horseradish, and
2 tablespoons pure olive oil. Season with salt and pepper. Once the roast has rested, carve it into slices. Using a paring knife, remove the plug of fat between the meat and the bone. (It’s one thing when you can see to cut around it; it’s quite another to bite into because it’s hidden by the crust.) Transfer the slices to a rimmed baking sheet. Divide the breadcrumb topping among the slices of prime rib. Transfer to the broiler and broil until golden brown, about 5 minutes. Serve hot with the potatoes.
Although my grandfather pretty much gave his country “yard dogs” leftover bones, I’d rather consider them a benefice de cuisine, or cook’s treat. Prime rib bones are normally fatty, so they are best served with pungent mustard to cut the richness. Preheat the oven to broil. Brush the bones with Dijon mustard and season with coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper. Roast, turning once or twice, until heated through and deep brown. Serve with additional mustard and gnaw to your heart’s content!
Beef Daube Provençal
SERVES 6 TO 8
Regardless of how fancy this dish may sound, this is simple, satisfying country cooking. I grew up eating beef stew quite similar to this that Mama prepared in her slow cooker. (Okay, no olives or orange zest, but very similar.) Sometimes, instead of beef, Mama prepared stew with deer meat shot by my father or given to us by an uncle or a neighbor. (I grew up calling it deer meat and never called it venison until I went to culinary school.) Venison is meaty, full flavored, and lower in fat than beef, so it responds well to long, slow cooking. She’d make a big batch, and we would enjoy it for several nights, each successive night providing a richer, fuller stew with the flavors increasingly mingled and married. One of my favorite lunch spots serves “yesterday’s soup.” This could be an argument for making this daube ahead and refrigerating it overnight before serving. Accompany this hearty dish with rice, potatoes, or buttery egg noodles.
4 pounds boneless lean rump roast, chuck pot roast, sirloin tip, top round, or bottom round, cut into 2-inch cubes
1 (750-ml) bottle dry red wine (such as Côtes du Rhône, Bandol, or Mourvèdre)
1 carrot, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 celery stalk, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 onion, preferably Vidalia, coarsely chopped
3 tablespoons pure olive oil, plus more if needed
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
Bouquet garni (5 sprigs thyme; 4 sprigs flat-leaf parsley; 2 bay leaves, preferably fresh; and 10 whole black peppercorns, tied together in cheesecloth)
1 cup pitted green olives
Finely grated zest of 2 oranges
1 tablespoon anchovy paste
6 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
1 cup homemade beef stock or reduced-fat, low-sodium beef stock, if needed
To marinate the beef, place the meat cubes in a large nonreactive bowl. Add the wine, carrot, celery, and onion. Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours or up to overnight.
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with paper towels. Remove the beef from the marinade and transfer to the prepared baking sheet. Pat the meat dry with paper towels. Strain the marinade, reserving both the vegetables and the liquid separately.
To cook the beef, heat a large, heavy Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add 2 tablespoons of the oil and heat until shimmering. Season the beef with salt and pepper. Working in two or three batches without crowding, sear the beef until nicely browned on all sides, about 5 minutes. Remove and discard the paper towels; transfer the beef to the prepared baking sheet when done. (In this case, it’s okay to use the same baking sheet for the raw and cooked beef because the meat will be cooked further.) Return the beef to the Dutch oven.
Tie the vegetables from the marinade in cheesecloth with cotton twine. (This makes it easier to purée the sauce later.) Add the bundle of vegetables, bouquet garni, olives, orange zest, anchovy paste, garlic, and reserved marinade to the pan. Bring to a boil over high heat. Cover and transfer to the oven. Cook until the meat is tender, 3 to 3½ hours.
Remove the bouquet garni from the Dutch oven and discard. Transfer the beef and olives with a slotted spoon to a bowl. Open the bundle of vegetables and add to the sauce. In the Dutch oven, using an immersion blender, purée the sauce and vegetables until smooth. Or, once the beef and olives are removed, ladle the sauce and vegetables into a blender a little at a time and purée until smooth. Cook the puréed sauce over medium-high heat until it coats the back of a spoon;
if needed, thin with beef stock to achieve this consistency. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Return the beef and olives to the sauce and turn to coat. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Serve immediately.
Traditional, dramatic, and perhaps a bit overzealous, this technique is Brilliant. The dough isn’t edible—there’s no salt or leavener—but it seals the casserole completely and prevents any moisture from escaping, therefore ensuring every last flavorful drop stays in the dish. For presentation, it’s a technique most appreciated when you prepare the stew base and then ladle it into individual Dutch ovens or casseroles for cooking and serving.
In a large bowl, combine 4 cups all-purpose flour with 1 cup cold water until it forms a dough. Roll it on a lightly floured surface into a long snake. Put the cover on the Dutch oven and seal by pressing the dough where the pot and the lid meet. Cut the dough and repeat if making individual-size portions. If you are cooking a large casserole, loosen and break apart with the back of a knife, and remove the lid in front of your guests. If you are preparing individual portions, I suggest serving them still sealed and letting your guests break the seals.
SERVES 4
You can’t get much more Southern than sweet tea. Well, maybe kudzu is more Southern than sweet tea, but you can’t drink kudzu. Blade steaks are from the shoulder of the pig and are much more economical than pork chops. They’re not as pretty, but are equally delicious and good. In my opinion, one of life’s most perfect breakfasts is a leftover cold pork chop the next day.
Sometimes we get a little hung up on competition. I’m all about doing one’s best and a healthy contest, but there’s a lot to be said for sharing. The best way to explain this is The Pork Chop Theory, a valuable lesson I learned from my friend Nathalie Dupree. The Pork Chop Theory is based on the premise that if you put one pork chop in the skillet and turn the heat on high, the chop will burn. However, if you put two pork chops in the skillet and turn the heat on high, the chops will feed off the fat of each other. It’s the ultimate in giving, sharing, and developing mutually beneficial relationships. And, you know what? The older I get, the more I know that’s what life is all about.
¼ cup kosher salt
¾ cup sugar
2 family-size or 8 regular size black tea bags
2 cups boiling water
3 cups ice cubes
4 blade or center-cut pork chops on the bone, ¾ inch thick
Freshly ground black pepper
Combine the salt, sugar, and tea bags in a heatproof bowl. Pour over the boiling water and stir to dissolve. Let steep for 10 minutes. Add the ice and stir to cool. Add the pork, cover the bowl, and refrigerate for about 30 minutes. Remove the meat from the brine, rinse well, and pat dry with paper towels. (Do not brine any longer, or the chops will be too salty.)
Prepare a medium-hot charcoal fire (see recipe for
Mama’s BBQ Chicken). Or, for a gas grill, turn on all burners to high, close the lid, and heat until very hot, 10 to 15 minutes.
Season the chops with pepper. Place them on the grill and grill until the internal temperature reads 145°F, 3 to 5 minutes per side. Remove to a warmed serving platter. Tent with foil to rest and let the juices redistribute, about 5 minutes. Serve immediately.
Grilled onions, sweet, smoky, and charred with yummy browned bits, are the best way to layer the flavors in our blade steaks and take this recipe to Brilliant. Plain old onions making something Brilliant? Yes. You don’t need to use something fancy to make a home-style dish more like a chef-inspired one.
While the chops are marinating, slice 3 onions, preferably Vidalia, into ½-inch rings. Place on a rimmed baking sheet and brush on both sides with a couple of tablespoons of canola or grapeseed oil. Season with coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper. While the chops are cooking, place the onion rings on the cooler part of the grill and cook, turning once or twice, until tender, 3 or so minutes per side. Remove to a bowl and cover tightly with plastic wrap. (This will trap the heat and the onions will continue to wilt.) Let rest until you are ready to serve. Then add 2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley and drizzle over 1 teaspoon sherry wine vinegar. Season with salt and pepper and toss to combine and coat. Serves 4. Serve a tangle of rings on top of each pork chop.
Pork Belly with French Market Red-Eye Gravy
SERVES 4 TO 6
Pork is a key ingredient in both French cuisine and down-home Southern cooking. The concept of using every last bit of the pig but the squeal is country cooking the world over and certainly not exclusive to the petits villages in the French countryside or the Deep South. Pork belly is one of the “low on the hog” cuts of meat. It’s uncured bacon, with a high proportion of fat to meat. Pork belly has risen to prominence in recent years because it makes chefs as happy as a pig in slop. Although popular in restaurants, it can be difficult to find in traditional grocery stores. Look for pork belly at Asian or Hispanic markets.
The concept of lowly pork belly served with an equally low red-eye gravy made “uptown” is pretty comical. Red-eye gravy, a simple but essential component of the full-on Southern ham breakfast, gets its name from the eye, or bone, in the center of the slice of ham. Traditionally coffee is used to make the unthickened gravy. Once upon a time both those bellies and coffee were only for those who had to “make do.” Funny thing is, this is one of the more restaurant-style dishes in this book.
3 to 4 pounds pork belly, cut into 3 × 2-inch portions
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons canola oil
2 onions, preferably Vidalia, coarsely chopped
2 carrots, coarsely chopped
2 celery stalks, coarsely chopped
4 cloves garlic, crushed
4 cups homemade chicken stock or reduced-fat, low-sodium chicken broth
¼ cup red wine vinegar
4 sprigs flat-leaf parsley
4 sprigs thyme
1 bay leaf, preferably fresh
10 whole black peppercorns
1 tablespoon ground Louisiana-style coffee with chicory (such as Café du Monde or Luzianne)
Remove the pork belly from the refrigerator and allow to come to room temperature, about 30 minutes. Pat the meat dry with paper towels and heartily season with salt and pepper on both sides. Preheat the oven to 350°F.
Heat the oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat until shimmering. (It seems redundant to start with fat and then pour it off since the belly is so fatty, but it’s necessary to get things going.) Add the pork, skin side down, and sear until browned on both sides, 8 to 10 minutes. Remove the pork to a plate. Pour off all but 1 tablespoon of the rendered fat.
Add the onions, carrots, and celery. Season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until golden brown, 5 to 7 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, 45 to 60 seconds. Add the stock, vinegar, parsley, thyme, bay leaf, and peppercorns. Bring to a boil. Decrease the heat to simmer. Place the pork on top of the vegetables, nestling the meat into the liquid, but not so deep that the top of the meat and skin is covered (think of it being “shoulder high”).
Transfer to the oven and roast, uncovered, basting occasionally, until the pork is tender, 2½ to 3 hours. Remove the pork from the liquid and place it on a warmed platter. Tent the pork with foil to keep warm while you finish the sauce.
While the meat is resting, remove the fat from the broth using a fat separator and transfer it to a clean saucepan, or tip off most of the fat with a spoon and leave the rest in the Dutch oven. You should have about 4 cups. Add the coffee to the skimmed stock and bring to a boil. Decrease the heat to simmer. Cook until flavorful and fragrant, about 10 minutes. Strain the liquid through a fine-mesh sieve into a saucepan,
using a rubber spatula or spoon to press all the goodness out of the vegetables. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Place the pork in warmed shallow serving bowls. Spoon the coffee-flavored jus around the meat. Serve immediately.
The fatty pork belly and flavorful, bitter sauce need crisp, cold, and spice to cut through the richness. This juicy addition makes it Brilliantly lip-smacking good.
Cut a 2-pound piece of seedless watermelon into 1-inch-thick triangular wedges, leaving the green rind attached. In a large stainless-steel bowl or pot, combine 8 cups warm water, ¼ cup kosher salt, ¼ cup sugar, ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper, and 6 smashed garlic cloves. Stir until the salt and sugar dissolve. Submerge the watermelon wedges in the mixture. Cover and refrigerate overnight. Using a slotted spoon, remove from the brine. Pat the wedges dry with paper towels to remove excess moisture. Serves 6. Serve with the pork belly and gravy.
SERVES 4 TO 6
This recipe has more of an Italian influence than French or Southern. When in my early twenties, I took the night train from Paris by myself and met my mother and two friends in Rome. It was one of the more adult events of my life at that point. It always seemed a bonus when getting on a “fast train” to actually arrive at the correct destination. Board the wrong one and you are a long way from where you need to be. I was a little terrified, but I got there. So, now when faced with a challenge, I consider myself most fortunate if I speak the language and have the currency.
We enjoyed this simple country dish while traveling from Florence to Venice. Traditionally, pork shoulder is braised and slow cooked. Since the shoulder muscle gets exercise, it’s tough and needs long, slow cooking. By adapting this recipe to using a loin, the cooking time is drastically reduced.
1 (4-pound) center-cut boneless pork loin
2 cloves garlic, very thinly sliced and seasoned with salt and pepper
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons pure olive oil
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 onion, preferably Vidalia, chopped
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
2 cups whole milk, or 1 cup whole milk and 1 cup heavy cream, warmed
Bouquet garni (1 sprig flat-leaf parsley, 2 sprigs thyme, and 4 fresh sage leaves, tied together in cheesecloth)
Fresh sage leaves, for garnish
Cut several slits in the pork and insert the garlic slivers in the slits. Set aside to come to room temperature. Season the roast on all sides with salt and pepper.
Heat the oil and butter over high heat in a large, heavy pot until shimmering. Add the meat and brown on all sides, about 8 minutes. Remove to a plate. Decrease the heat to medium. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until golden brown, about 5 minutes. Add the flour and cook, stirring occasionally, for 2 minutes. Add the warmed milk and bring to a boil, whisking until smooth. Add the bouquet garni, the pork, and any juices that have collected on the plate. Decrease the heat to simmer.
Simmer, uncovered, turning the meat occasionally and scraping the bottom of the pot. (As the milk cooks, it starts to curdle and form small curds.) Stir often to keep the curds from sticking and cook until the pork is tender and an instant-read thermometer inserted into the center of the meat registers 140°F to 145°F, about 1 hour. The pork will be slightly pink in the center (this is desirable).
Transfer the pork to a cutting board, preferably with a moat. Tent with aluminum foil to keep warm. Let it rest for about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, taste the curds and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Transfer to a warmed serving platter. Slice the pork loin about ¼ inch thick and place on the curds. Garnish with sage leaves and serve.
This presentation looks pretty impressive, but it’s very simple to do.
Using a knife, cut a slit in one end of the roast. Then, take a knife-sharpening steel and create a hole through the center length of the pork loin. Repeat with the other end. Widen the tunnel using your fingers and by rotating the steel in the loin at both ends. Insert 2 or 3 fully cooked sausages (about 8 ounces total—I like Aidell’s Italian-style with mozzarella, but any cooked sausage will do). Proceed with the Basic recipe. The presentation and added flavor at the center is Brilliant.
SERVES 6 TO 8
Despite the name, pork butt does not come from the rear end of the hog—it is cut from the shoulder. The terminology for pork shoulder can vary widely depending on what part of the country you live in. Generally, the upper part of the shoulder is called the Boston blade roast or Boston butt and contains the shoulder blade bone. The lower “arm” portion of the shoulder is most commonly called the arm picnic.
I once prepared this recipe far north of the Mason-Dixon Line and was surprised not to be able to readily find a pork shoulder this large. (We’ve got pig all over down here.) Displaced Southerners may want to order ahead from a butcher.
1 (8- to 10-pound) bone-in pork shoulder or Boston blade roast
1 onion, preferably Vidalia, thinly sliced
2 (28-ounce) cans whole tomatoes with juice
1½ cups apple cider vinegar
½ cup Worcestershire sauce
½ cup bourbon
¼ cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
2 tablespoons red pepper flakes, or to taste
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
Place the pork, fat side up, in a roasting pan and using a sharp knife, score the surface of the meat and fat with small slits. Allow the meat to sit at room temperature for 30 minutes before cooking.
Preheat the oven to 325°F.
Combine the onion, tomatoes, vinegar, Worcestershire, bourbon, brown sugar, and red pepper in a large bowl. Season heartily with salt and pepper. Stir to combine and to slightly break up the tomatoes. Pour the tomato mixture over the pork. Transfer to the heated oven. Roast until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the center of the meat registers 180°F to 185°F for sliced pork, about 5 hours, or 190°F to 205°F for pulled pork, about 4 hours. Baste with the sauce throughout the cooking process.
Remove from the oven and transfer the meat to a cutting board. Cover with foil and let rest for 20 minutes. Slice or pull meat. Meanwhile, place the roasting pan over medium-high heat. Reduce the sauce to thicken, stirring occasionally. Taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper. Serve on the side with the pork.
White-tablecloth restaurants have to watch their laundry bill. Instead of finger-licking sauce on the side with a roll of paper towels, try a Tomato Bourbon Jus.
Transfer the meat to a cutting board, preferably with a moat. Tent with foil to keep warm and let rest. To the roasting pan with sauce, add 4 cups homemade
chicken stock, or reduced-fat, low-sodium chicken broth. Add 2 teaspoons bourbon, or to taste. (Remember, it’s raw and won’t be cooked any further. I am not trying to get it drunk; I just want to make the flavor of the original sauce pop.) Whisk until smooth, then strain through a fine-mesh sieve into a saucepan. Taste and adjust for seasoning with coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper. Adjust the consistency by reducing the liquid over simmering heat or adding more stock, as needed. (It should be thin, like a cooking liquid, almost brothlike, not like a sauce.) When you are ready to serve, place the pork shoulder in the middle of a warmed shallow bowl. Spoon the Tomato Bourbon Jus around the meat and serve immediately.
SERVES 4 TO 6
A grill pan is all you need to make a simple supper in 30 minutes or less with this recipe. I return to this recipe again and again. Mama even keeps the sauce already made in the refrigerator and uses it on pork chops as well as chicken. The key is not to start brushing the meat until it’s almost cooked; otherwise, the sweet glaze will burn.
¼ cup Kosher salt
¾ cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
2 cups boiling water
3 cups ice cubes
2 (1½- to 2-pound) pork tenderloins
½ cup peach preserves
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh rosemary leaves
½ cup Dijon mustard
Freshly ground black pepper
Combine the salt and brown sugar in a heatproof bowl. Add the boiling water and stir to dissolve. Add the ice cubes and stir to cool. Add the tenderloins, cover the bowl with plastic wrap, and refrigerate to marinate, about 30 minutes. Remove from the brine, rinse well, and pat thoroughly dry with paper towels. (Do not brine any longer or the pork will be too salty.)
Meanwhile, stir together the peach preserves, rosemary, and mustard in a small bowl.
Prepare a medium-hot charcoal fire (see recipe for
Mama’s BBQ Chicken). Or preheat a gas grill to high or grill pan over high heat. Season the tenderloins with pepper. Place the meat on the grill, and grill, turning once, until the internal temperature reaches 145°F, about 15 minutes. Brush with the peach-mustard mixture during the last few minutes. Remove to a cutting board and cover with aluminum foil to rest and let the juices redistribute, about 5 minutes. Slice on the diagonal and serve immediately with the remaining sauce on the side.
This Brilliant version started as an impromptu sandwich in a TV studio several years ago when I was too busy to sit. Now, I love to serve it as a Brilliant main course.
Whisk together 1 cup white cornmeal, 1 cup all-purpose flour, 1 teaspoon baking soda, 1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh chives, ½ teaspoon fine sea salt, ½ teaspoon baking powder, and ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper in a bowl. Whisk together 1 cup buttermilk, ½ cup sour cream, and 1 large egg in a small bowl until smooth; add to the dry ingredients, stirring just until moistened. Pour about 3 tablespoons batter for each cake onto a hot, lightly greased griddle. Cook the griddle cakes until the tops are covered with bubbles and the edges look cooked, about 3 minutes; turn and cook until golden brown, about 2 minutes. Transfer to a plate lined with paper towels and pat dry with a paper towel to remove the excess oil. Sandwich slices of the pork between 2 griddle cakes with any remaining sauce. Serve immediately. Makes 12 griddle cakes for 6 sandwiches.
SERVES 10
When I lived in the French countryside, the “exotic” cuisine was pretty limited. Even the local pizza parlor “Frenchified” the thin, crisp pies by topping the pizzas with an egg. There was a restaurant chinois about 30 minutes away, but even in metropolitan Paris, Mexican food might as well have been from Mars. However, due to the colonial relationships with Morocco and Senegal, it was not unusual to find vendors selling North African food and spices even in the small towns across France.
Sometimes our employers, Anne and Mark, would go away for a few days, and we young Americans would be left to our own devices. We yearned for spice and, yes, honestly, sometimes craved anything but buttery rich French food. Often that’s when we’d prepare nachos or burgers. We’d buy beer and leave the wine in the cellar. At the time, this swarthy Mediterranean combination of spices was practically a walk on the wild side.
1 (4- to 5-pound) butterflied leg of lamb, trimmed of excess fat and sinew (from one 6½-pound bone-in leg of lamb)
1 teaspoon coarse salt, plus more to season
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more to season
1 tablespoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon ground allspice
½ teaspoon ground turmeric
½ cup whole or low-fat plain Greek-style yogurt
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 onion, preferably Vidalia, quartered
8 cloves garlic
Place the lamb on a cutting board. Cover with plastic wrap. Using a meat pounder or small skillet, pound the meat to an even thickness. Using a paring knife, stab the lamb all over on both sides. Season both sides with salt and pepper. Place the lamb in a large bowl or baking dish. Set aside.
In a small skillet over medium-low heat, combine the cumin seeds, cinnamon, 1 teaspoon salt, ½ teaspoon pepper, allspice, and turmeric. Cook, stirring constantly, until toasted and fragrant, 2 to 3 minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside.
In a food processor fitted with a metal blade, combine the yogurt, oil, onion, garlic, and reserved toasted spices. Purée until smooth. Pour the purée over the lamb and turn to coat.
Cover and refrigerate, turning occasionally, preferably for 8 hours or up to overnight. If you are refrigerating overnight, let the lamb stand at room temperature for 1 hour before grilling. (Or, for a real shortcut, simply marinate the lamb in the yogurt at room temperature for 1 hour before cooking.)
Prepare a medium-hot charcoal fire (see recipe for
Mama’s BBQ Chicken). Or, for a gas grill, turn on all burners to high, close the lid, and heat until very hot, 10 to 15 minutes.
Remove the lamb from the dish and brush off any excess marinade. Grill the lamb, flipping every 5 minutes for even cooking, until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the center registers 130°F to 135°F for medium-rare, about 10 minutes per side. Transfer to a cutting board. Tent with aluminum foil and let rest for at least 5 minutes before slicing. Slice the lamb across the grain. Serve immediately.
Mint and lamb are traditional, but this Pecan Mint Pistou is by no means ordinary. A dab of this on the grilled lamb is positively Brilliant.
In a food processor fitted with a metal blade, combine 2 cups fresh mint leaves, 2 cups fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, 4 cloves garlic, ½ cup pecans, and ¾ cup pecorino-romano cheese; season with salt and pepper. Blend until smooth, scraping down the sides of the bowl as necessary. With the machine running, slowly pour in ½ cup pure olive oil until it is thoroughly incorporated and the mixture is smooth. Makes 1½ cups. The Pecan Mint Pistou can be stored in the refrigerator in an airtight container for up to 2 days or frozen for up to 1 month. Serve alongside the lamb.
Spiced Skirt Steak with Shallot Marmalade