Roasted pheasant stuffed with wild rice served with pomegranate and persimmon sauce makes a flavorful winter dish.
Some would say that pot roast is ordinary fare suitable only for family dining. Nonsense I say – with good presentation, a beautifully plattered pot roast dressed up with it’s accompanying vegetables and sauce should delight even the most discriminating diner. After all, this baby sits on a lofty pot roast plateau by virtue of including porcini mushrooms and a Willamette Valley Pino Noir in the sauce.
For most of my life Surf and Turf has had a negative connotation. Perhaps it’s because I strongly associate it with the ’70s and all that decade represented. Conspicuous consumption. Excess. Gaudiness. Lincoln Towncars a block long. Scotch and gentlemen’s clubs (not the naughty kind; I’m thinking supper clubs for the exclusive). Leveraged buyouts. You get the idea. Michael Douglas in “Wall Street.” Wandering the aisle of the grocery store and pondering what to serve my family for dinner, I was craving beef. But I also had to deal with the reality that Mom doesn’t eat beef. So I thought of grilling some shrimp and, since I had to fire up the grill, what would it hurt to throw on some beef as well? But I decided that reason should rule. No New York steak or even fillet mignon. I settled on a few pieces of tri-tip steaks for Charles and me.
The secret ingredient to our version of steak salad is marinating the meat in some dried galangal root powder (available at any Asian grocery store) and a touch of oil an hour or two before cooking. The galangal will enhance the flavor of the steak and take away some of that “beefy smell” that turns some people off. Plus, while you’re searing the steak, it will add an other-worldy aroma to the beef.
Pranee doesn’t eat meat (meat=beef to her; pork, poultry and seafood are still on her “A list”) but occasionally renders up some beef dish for her hungry sons. Not long ago, she surprised me with her Beef with Peppers. She noticed the tears and sweaty scalp all the way through my enjoyment while asking, “Too spicy?” “No,” I wheezed, “just right.” Tears and reactions such as perspiring aren’t always synonymous with sadness or discomfort. Sometimes wonderfully spicy food will just shoot you straight into an endorphin high.