Think On It

Lunch with Sam and Me

November 13th, 2006

We had a lunch party Sunday, Sam and I. I was pretty much the same as I usually am, but Sam exhibited some behaviors that are all new in our relationship.

I invited a family with two teenaged boys who love animals. I thought it would be a nice change for Sam and that they would like him, too. They did like him, they took him out to play much longer than I do. They included the cats, as Sam does.

I cooked pot au feu, which is really simple food that gives you choices when you aren’t sure what people like. I started on Thursday by browning a rolled breast of lamb (pancetta di vitello) wrapped around minced garlic with coarse salt and centered by a rosemary branch, then tied up tightly in a sausage shape. I heated an iron pot to infernal, then browned the roast on all sides. I then threw in a carrot chopped into 3 pieces, an eight inch piece of leek, a big fistful of celery tops, bunches of herbs from the garden, including sage leaves and thyme, a couple of cloves and some peppercorns. Over it all went about four liters of boiling water. I lowered the heat to the lowest possible so that the water would move, but never boil, covered it and left it until it was tender to a fork.

It then was removed to a plate to cool, and the covered pot was allowed to cool and then was refrigerated. The roast went into a plastic bag and was chilled as well. This Sam liked. He wound through my legs and waited for an accident, but I dropped nothing.

Friday the pot of broth came out again. I took another heavy pan on high heat and browned a package of beef shortribs that weren’t very fatty. If they’d been fatty, I would have picked beef ribs that come off rib roasts and steaks. When those were browned very well, I took them out, poured yesterday’s broth into the sautéing pan and cooked it again, making sure it never boiled, with the shortribs in it until they too were just fork tender. Sam liked this. He waited. I dropped nothing, but as the shortribs cooled, I trimmed off the gristly bits and gave them to him. I took most of the fat off them, too, before bagging and chilling them. The bones went into the stockpot, which cooked until about an hour before bedtime, then cooled and got chilled.

Saturday I took out the big pot of stock, then plunked in a whole chicken. I was going to use marrowbones, but then I recalled I had invited conservative eaters, so I didn’t. If I had, they would have been tied into a cheesecloth bag before cooking. I added some more peppercorns and a couple more cloves, and about 2 teaspoons of coarse salt. Notice that I had not previously salted the stock other than what salt might have leaked out of the veal breast roll. By now the stock was taking on a deep mahogany color and smelled heavenly. As soon a leg moved freely, out came the chicken to cool. When I could handle it, I skinned it and cut it into neatish pieces, removing as many of the little bones as possible. It was then refrigerated. Sam liked this. Sam got some small chicken pieces. The cats got all the rest, so they liked Saturday, too. Then Sam and I went to the party while the stock cooled and the chicken chilled.

Sunday morning put the stock on to simmer, made an aioli with bread, and I tore up about eight pieces of stale bread. I minced about a cup of celery and of onion, then heated about 2 tablespoons of butter in a frying pan and sautéed the vegetables until they were soft and transparent. I added the bread cubes and a couple of pinches of dried thyme leaves, a couple of minced sage leaves and then I ladled boiling stock over it until it was dampened. I broke an egg over the mixture and used a fork to blend it in. Some of my precious cheesecloth was laid over a chopping block and the stuffing was piled onto it. I gathered up the edges and tied it tightly with butcher’s string, leaving a longish tail. Five carrots were peeled and cut into three-inch pieces. Two big leeks were cleaned and cut into similar lengths. I wished I had a pair of rutabagas, but they were not to be had. I put the leeks and carrots into the stock and then lowered the bag full of stuffing into it, leaving the tail to trail over the edge of the pot, held in place by the lid.

I took the meats out of the fridge to come to room temperature. I peeled and cooked eight potatoes in a separate pot.

When the vegetables were all cooked, I arranged them in a huge low bowl and put them into a warm oven, while I put the meats into the stock to gently heat. As soon as they were warm, I removed them and carved them and put them onto a platter. Sam didn’t so much like this as he seemed to think that it was at last time and more that he eat this stuff. He started to run back and forth through the kitchen. Our guests arrived and he went outside briefly with the boys, but soon was barking at the door.

Now Sam is a polite enough boy that he will stay down after a few demands that he do so, I will give him credit for that. After lunch, however, he decided he’d had enough. I gave him a little of the meat, but he’s not supposed to eat very much, so I didn’t give him all he wanted. The boys went outside, but Sam wouldn’t go. He ran around the kitchen and sometimes barked. I finally decided that was enough and I went to the door and called him. Nothing. He would not come, he would not go out, he was determined that it was dinnertime. It was hours before his dinnertime! It’s the first time he wouldn’t do as I said. We did the best we could to ignore him, but he was a naughty boy.

At his real suppertime, he was fed more chicken meat.

Today he didn’t want to go where I was going on his walk. He has become a hardhead. I have been here before with other guys. There is only one empress in my kitchen. Unless he equips himself with a hobbyshop and locks himself away to wile away the hours, Sam is playing a game he can never win. I can open the food tins and he can’t! I can open the fridge and turn on the stove and Sam can’t. I can drive to the supermarket and Sam doesn’t drive. It’s about 10 kilometers from here and he might be able to walk it, but he doesn’t have a cash card nor money and he can’t carry much back.

There are leftovers, except for dessert and stuffing. Call.

Entry Filed under: Food, Italy