Got Stew?
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Valley View by Fereva
While La Cañada pals complain in an annoyed yet very civilized way about the Southland’s bizarre soggy spell, I find myself retrogressing into a more primal mode. I’m just plain cranky, because being a native of Northern California ... well shoot, I coulda’ stayed there and enjoyed plenty of “weather.” But back to biology. My primitive self craves the comfort basics: hot baths, hot meals and well... almost anything that warms the corpus.
Consistent sunshine would be a nice start.
Lacking that, here is my “Like Water for Chocolate” column offering: How about, like water for stew?
My mother made one of the best Irish stews of all time. As a finishing touch, she used to send me out in the backyard to pluck a few bay leaves which added that certain je ne sais quoi to the flavor. She also insisted I study French, a language of questionable practical value living in California.
Over the years, I’ve modified my mom’s recipe (such as cheating with pre-cut fajita beef) but here are the basics, written up the way it’s
done:
Beef Stew
1 pound stew meat, tossed in a bag with flour
2 Tablespoons corn oil to brown the meat in a huge pot
1 can chopped tomatoes (14 oz.) added to the meat mix. Simmer for a couple of hours along with:
3 cans (use empty 14 oz.) of water 2-3 chopped potatoes
Ditto turnips
2 sliced carrots
2 sliced sticks of celery
1 diced onion
A generous handful of frozen peas
Salt and pepper to taste
and of course...
A couple of bay leaves.
The stew is labor intensive enough, so that I only cook it once or twice a year during cool weather. And I know I’ve described the process in sloppy shorthand as opposed to “The Joy of Cooking”-eze. My mother learned most of her recipes as a girl at home, or adapted them alternately from Betty Crocker’s “Good & Easy” cookbook and Peggy Bracken’s “I Hate to Cookbook” (what a marvelous title).
I hate to cook under pressure, but thoroughly enjoy it when not.
Meanwhile, my daughter is a vegetarian - so here is a warm-the-bones offering for those who eschew (possibly not a good choice of words) eating anything that formerly had a face:
Lentil Stew
2 chopped potatoes
2 sliced carrots (love the way julliene looks)
1 chopped onion
1 diced clove of garlic (or three; love the stuff)
... all sauteed together in vegetable oil;
add the following and simmer until cooked...
1 cup of lentils, in approximately
8 cups of water, with-
1 can of chopped tomatoes (14 oz.)
1 bunch loosely chopped kale
1 generous handful of cut corn (frozen OK)
2 bay leaves (it’s not stew without!)
1 cube or more (to taste) of vegetarian broth
2 Tablespoons of soy or tamari sauce
1 Tablespoon of chili powder
1 teaspoon of cumin
Salt and pepper to taste
Both of these recipes borrow heavily from the everything-but-the-kitchen-sink school of cooking, and are guaranteed to fortify until our chill nights are followed by radiant, spring mornings. It would be traditionally classy to close with a wish of bon appetit or something along those lines. Instead, I will offer my mother’s pragmatic words welcoming us at mealtime: “Wash your hands.”