Winter

Brisket....I'm licking my lips. I love it. I've always loved it...as long as it's cooked right. Let's face it, it's a tough, flat piece of meat. It's a chest muscle. The only way to cook it right, is low and slow...which is why we braise. And the Guinness adds a nice layer of deep complexity to the sauce, just like red wine does to a pot roast. However, since the barley used to make Guinness is roasted, you get this really deep flavor in dished like this.

Braising melts all that intramuscular fat and works through the connective tissues. It's a three method process and worth every minute of time spent. Braising includes browning, deglazing and simmering, but really, the meat is in the oven most of the time...you might as well just forget about it and go read a book.

The torture comes in with the amazing smells coming from the kitchen....it leaves me hungry all day. ALL. DAY. I end up snacking on things I shouldn't because of that meat smell. UGH. Let's just say I might have eaten a few too many cookies yesterday. UGH. And why does smelling meat make me eat cookies?

I love hearty spicy chili, especially during the winter months. This one is quick to make with just basic ingredients and guaranteed to warm you up on a cold day.

The variety of beans – red kidney, black and pinto – gives the chili a nice “meaty” quality. I think it has a nice balance of heat, but you can add extra cayenne or a chopped jalapeño to add a little more “fire”.

For the last two weeks I have had an intermittent problem with my furnace.  I have a wonderful technician, but it was a difficult thing to figure out. Did I mention that it is Winter in Maine and even with a back up heat source it is imperative to solve it and solve it fast.  The elusive part arrived this morning and Tony quickly came out yet again to my house.  I asked him to come in and have a cup of tea with me as I always do and explain what he did to my furnace. I hoped that he would reassure me that it was fixed once and for all.

He is the kind of guy that insists on taking his boots off so he doesn't make a mess no matter how many times you tell him that it is fine because you have three dogs that always have wet paws. Today I placed a thick cotton rug at the door knowing that would make him feel more comfortable and indeed he came in for tea without any excuses. I poured a nice cup from my morning pot and went to get the banana bread that I had baked yesterday – only I couldn't find it anywhere! I looked everywhere and then decided that I better pick something else to give him before I started looking like I was becoming senile or worse yet, getting a case of cabin dementia.

If it’s January, I must be cooking Broccoflower. I picked some up at the grocery the other day because, frankly, our vegetable larder of turnips, rutabagas, kale, and beets is starting to freak me out. Plus, I can never resist the lime-green color of Broccoflower, and I love its nutty flavor when browned, too. (Also, since we live in a small town and I shop at the same small grocery store every day after my post-office run, I’m beginning to worry that people might think we have a really unhealthy diet, since I rarely buy vegetables at the store any more. Checking out with Roy’s donuts, some Lucky Charms for Libby, and maybe some chocolate chips for me makes me a little self-conscious! Hence the need for the occasional head of Broccoflower.)

I’ve sautéed, roasted, stir-fried and quick-braised Broccoflower, but it’s very cold here today and I thought a ragoût would be satisfying. (When I say it’s cold today, I mean it’s calling-all-mice-inside cold. This morning a mouse was in the compost bowl in the pantry. He’d fallen in, obviously in search of yumminess, but since there was little more than coffee grinds and egg shells to feast on—anything green is going to the chickens or Cocoa Bunny right now—he’d tried to scamper back up the sides of the aluminum bowl. No luck. Roy switched on the light about 6:30 and left the little mouse to do a roller derby around the bowl until I got up. I put him back outside (tipping the bowl to let him escape), where he will most likely find his way straight back inside the house tonight. I feel a little bit like Fred Flintstone putting Dino outside the back door. Oh, well. At least Libby is not here to insist on a warm bed for Mousey.)