Beef in cider. Who'dathunkit?
The Spaniards, apparently: this is a recipe that Eat Your Books found for me in a book of my Spanish collection. And it turned up because I was searching for turnip recipes, because I have to feed the surviving yogis tonight and I'd come home from the farmers' market on Saturday with a dozen little white pearls that I'm assured are Japanese turnips; and I thought I'd do something dark and solemn with star anise and daikon, but no! Cider! And an apple garnish!
It's simmering now on the stovetop, in the Le Creuset casserole that I bought, ooh, round about thirty years ago; I certainly had it in '84. It was the single most expensive kitchen item I possessed, even though I got it for half price because it's brown, and who wants brown when you're buying Le Creuset? Well, I do, for one. I love my casserole, despite the chips and the stains and the broken handle; how many pots do you use for thirty years and reckon to go on using for thirty more? It's one of the things I most fretted over shipping; and it's here now, it's making its first American dish. American Spanish, not to be confused with Spanish American.
It ought to be ox cheeks, but they didn't have ox cheeks in the supermarket, and they did have extraordinarily cheap sirloin; so it's big fat chunks of sirloin, and we'll see how that stews down. In cider (and a splash of cider vinegar, that too). I've cooked chicken in cider, and pork; I would not have thought of beef. Tho' I've been to a sidreria and drunk cider straight from the barrel. I think they fed us fish, some local delicacy fried crisp?
And I'll mash some potatoes and celeriac to go with, and roast some brussels with apples alongside, and if it's all horrible they can have pizza. Snf!