Requiem For a Boeuf Bourguignon

Please tell me I'm not the only person who keeps lists of recipes To Make. I choose recipes not so much by what they are but by who recommends them. Some of my To Make recipes come from Ruth Reichl, some from Julia Child and some from Edward.

You see, I just finished reading Dinner With Edward. By the time I'd finished, I'd fallen a little in love with nonagenarian Edward with his charming, Old World manners and flair for making delicious dinners for author Isabel Vincent.

So when I finished the book, I immediately circled back to the beginning, carefully typing all of Edward's wonderful menus into a Dinners by Edward To Make column of my menu spreadsheet. 

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Conspicuous by its absence is any mention of Edward ever making Boeuf Bourguignon (/bœf boor-gee-nyawn/). That's because Edward is wiser than me. He knew what I've just learned: the American tummy isn't prepared to process the rich wine-ey-ness of Boeuf Bourguignon.

Like all my cooking, I approached our first Boeuf Bourguignon with a take-the-recipe-with-a-grain-of-salt chutzpah. A certain panache. That may be why I forgot the tomato paste...until later.

Blithely, I seared the cheapest chunks of beef our grocery store offered, threw in sweated onions, garlic, rustically chopped carrots and sloshed in every drop of cheap Pinot Noir we owned (buy one, get the second bottle for just $1) mostly to get rid of it thereby making room on our overflowing kitchen shelves.

Then I tasted it...and freaked! Of course, it tasted horribly "winey." What was I expecting!?!

Eighteen hours in the crockpot later, the flavor had mellowed enough to be quite pleasing. But fearing the lipids from the bacon and beef, I chilled the whole concoction and removed the raft of fat from the top. Then I added more lipids by creaming butter and cornstarch together to form a beurre manié which thickened the broth enough to coat the bed of buttered noodles nicely.

I won't lie to you. Michael was skeptical but he ate it like a trouper. And it was good...but not great. In fact, the only one who loved the Boeuf Bourguignon unequivocally was Delly the Bichon Frise. It sure beat that nasty dry crap...I mean, kibble...she usually eats.

The next morning was, how shall I say, interesting. Veddy interesting. Michael and I were in-and-out of the WC all day.

After several trips each, we made three important Thompson Family decisions.

1. We won't be taking that imaginary trip to France after all. It's hard enough having a rumbly in your tummy at home. Our insides just can't handle the richness and the wine in French food.
   
   
2. If we must have wine, we're going to buy the Fre non-alcoholic variety. The fun of the flavor with none of the ugly after-effects.
   
   
3. Definitely no more Boeuf Bourguignon. It's not worth it!

If I had to give it a MasterChefesque decision, I'd definitely steal the one Key and Peele did in their skit.

"Meh."

Bon Appétit...anyways! ;)

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