What is Oxtail to you? A stew that is too rich, too
stringy, too... well, just “too”? A circle of Hell from Dante’s Inferno? Perhaps
it is more Paradiso, a dish that leaves the diner looking as doe eyed and
tongue-lollingly lovingly as the taurean provider itself (apologies for mixing
my metaphors).
Maybe it is the richness of the meat, after long hours of
being slow cooked? Maybe it is the rich sauce created from stock, wine and marrow
from the bones rendered down to a rich emulsion? Or maybe it is the visceral
joy of lifting the portions by hand, loudly slurping and gnawing to get all the
meat off while juices run freely down the chin and palm, leaving you feeling
rather dirty but as smug as a renaissance prince, that makes it just a little more pleasurable?
Who knows? However, oxtail is such a dish combining the genteel with the
overtly barbaric.
Divine Comedy? Dante? Italy? Well, I am putting the tang of
Italy into my Oxtail dish by adding balsamic vinegar to the sauce, the acidity
from this should help break down the fibres of the meat though in reality there
isn’t very much (and let’s not forget there is all that wine too) but at least
it will add a dark rich mellowness to the stock and wine.
Nor can I be satisfied with a sinfully plain mash, or
dare I say it, ‘crushed’ potatoes. No, I have opted to add yet another circle
of richness in this comedy of culinary errors: Polenta mash.
Woodbine’s Oxtail with
an hint of Italy
1 Oxtail
1 Carrot diced
1 Onion diced
1 Celery stick sliced
2-3 Garlic cloves minced
500 ml Beef (or Chicken) stock
500ml Red Wine
2Tbsp Balsamic Vinegar
1Tbsp Tomato Puree
150g polenta (quick cook or prepare to stir for hours)
300ml full fat milk
300ml chicken (or vegetable) stock
50ml cream
50g Parmesan Cheese
Parsley for garnish
Oven to 130C
(275F, Gas ½)
Stage 1:
Fry the vegetables in a sauté pan, carrots first as they
take a bit longer then add the celery and onion. When done stir in the garlic
and heat through before removing it all to a casserole.
Stage 2:
Ensuring the pan is hot, season the oxtail pieces and
then sear in the pan until browned all over. Do three to four pieces at a time
but don’t over crowd the pan. You want the meat browned not a sweated grey. Add
to the casserole. Deglaze the pan with some of the wine. Pour into the
casserole.
Stage 3:
Mix the balsamic and the tomato puree together and pour
into the casserole. Add the remaining wine and the stock. Put the lid on and
place the casserole into the oven for 4 hours.
Stage 4:
Strain the oxtail once cooked (carefully removing the
meaty bones as the meat should be about to drop off) pouring the sauce into a
clean pan for reducing. Put the meat and vegetables back in the casserole (if
you want a sauce with no vegetables then they can be more roughly chopped at
the preparation stage as you will discard them at this point) and keep in a
warm place (the oven off and door ajar works). Once done, return the sauce to
the casserole
Stage 5:
While the sauce is reducing, bring the milk and stock to
a boil and add the polenta stir until it is done and then add the cream to
loosen it and the cheese to give it some extra flavour. This should still be
thick enough to pour but not to run (and will thicken even more as it cools).
To serve drop a dollop (can there be any more
gluttonously adhesively satisfying a word than that) of the polenta off centre
of a warm plate and then a piece of the oxtail quirkily to the side at a jaunty
angle. Spoon the sauce around and garnish with chopped parsley. Alternately,
pour all the polenta onto a meat plate, place the meat on top and the sauce
around.
Gnaw, slurp and handle the food as much as possible like
a true Borgia: Divine.
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