From the Heart

Note: Posts in this blog originally appeared in my column, Amuse-bouche, in the Napa Valley Register. This one is from February 2008.

 

I’m always so happy to see Valentine’s Day arrive. Not because I love the day — I don’t. I’m no fan of Hallmark holidays in general, and this one is particularly commercial. But I welcome it for what it represents.

The end of Dating Lent.

As someone who has spent way too much of her life single, I can say with some authority that if you are not safely in a relationship by Thanksgiving, you might as well swear off the other sex until February, and try to get religious credit for it.

It’s one long extended minefield.

Christmas is bad enough: How much to spend? How personal? What if he gives me something really expensive and thoughtful, and I just regifted him a jar of jam? What if I give him something really expensive and thoughtful, and he just regifted me a key ring?

Then, even if your budding relationship gets past that, you are immediately faced with the New Year’s Eve dilemma.

If you’ve just started dating and you are not yet sure where things are going, do you take him to a party to meet all your friends? Or go with him to his friend’s party, and get sized up by all his buddies (and probably three or four of his ex-girlfriends)? What if you want to take it slow and he plans a really big, romantic evening? Or even worse, what if there’s less than a week to go, and he hasn’t asked you yet? Do you make other plans? Drop hints? Do you even want to know if he has plans with someone else?

No one in their right mind starts dating someone new in December.

But then suddenly it’s January — a time for new beginnings. You wake up eager to get out there and face the dating world again. But wait. What are those red hearts everywhere? Some sadist has created a February holiday even more couple-y and romantic and fraught with expectations than New Year’s. And the bad memories it awakens! I don’t know about you, but the trauma of elementary school Valentine’s cards is still with me.

When I stick my nose outside and see the red satin ribbons go up, I make like the groundhog and climb back inside for another six weeks of dating winter.

But this week, daffodils are popping up in my yard, mustard is blooming in the vineyards and Valentine’s Day is almost upon us. For other folks, the Lenten period has just started, but the end of mine is in sight. I’m eyeing the prospects and gearing up.

And foodwise, I’m already thinking about that great standby of the single girl — the dinner invitation.

Of course, that too takes timing and finesse. I’m thinking about it now, but I generally don’t plan dinners until I’ve dated someone a month or more. You need to get in a few great meals in classy bistros before you reveal that you could do just as well at home, or you risk never seeing the inside of a restaurant again. And you have to check out your date to make sure he has a compatible palate. There’s nothing worse than spending hours preparing a fabulous dinner only to discover that he detests the key ingredient.

You also have to decide if this will be a candlelit dinner for two, or a dinner party —which can either diffuse the date pressure, or emphasize your couple-ness, depending on who else you invite.

And then you have to get the food right. Raw garlic and onions — not good if you expect to smooch. Beans or cabbage? Perhaps not the smartest idea you ever had. Spa cuisine? It’s easy to be tempted when your guest (and you) could afford to lose a few pounds. But don’t be surprised when he bolts out the door early, so he can get to In N Out Burger on the way home. Recipes that keep you in the kitchen during the hors d’oeuvres? You run the risk of him chatting up one of your single girlfriends over drinks while you are toiling away like a galley slave. A rich dessert? Always a plus (unless you decide halfway through the dinner that the guy isn’t for you. Remember, you’re eating it, too — and one should never underestimate the seductive power of chocolate.)

Here’s what I’ve learned: For old friends and well-established beaus, it’s fine to experiment with untried recipes and exotic ingredients. But when the object is romance, it’s comfort food all the way. I recommend slow-cooked dishes that can happily sit for hours in the oven without any attention.

That way, you’re free to get distracted in case the romantic atmosphere starts to work earlier than expected.

And braised dishes get better with time. So if the date’s a dud, at least you can look forward to the leftovers.

 

* * * * *

 

I don’t tend to eat much beef, but that may change now that the Five Dot Ranch stand has opened at the Oxbow Market. They had beautiful short ribs, both on and off the bone, this week. I prefer them bone-in, for added flavor, but either works for this dish. I decided to pair the beef with star anise, to push it in an unexpected direction. Something about the smell of the anise and the wine made the dish cry out for coffee, so I threw half a cup into the braising liquid as well.

 

 

Short Ribs Braised in Red Wine with Star Anise

 

3 – 4 lbs. beef short ribs

2 star anise pieces

2 tsp. kosher salt

2 tsp. black peppercorns

1 Tbsp. oil

3 medium onions, diced (about 3 cups)

3 large carrots, diced (about 1 1/2 cups)

2 stalks celery, diced (about 3/4 cup)

1 leek, white part only, cleaned and thinly sliced

4 Tbsp. tomato paste

1 1/2 bottles red wine (I used Two Buck Chuck shiraz)

1/2 cup strong coffee (optional)

 

Break one of the star anise pieces in half and grind the half, along with the salt and peppercorns, in a spice grinder. Rub the spices into all sides of the pieces of meat. Set aside for 15-30 minutes or longer to allow the meat to warm to room temperature and the spices to penetrate. (I use the time to chop the vegetables)

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Heat a large, ovenproof Dutch oven or other pot over medium-high heat, and add the oil. Brown the meat pieces on all sides. Don’t crowd the pan — do it in batches if necessary. Remove the browned meat pieces to a plate.

Pour off excess oil from the pot, then add the onions, carrots, celery and leek. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables soften, about 8 minutes. Stir in the tomato paste and cook for another minute.

Place the meat pieces on top of the vegetables, and pour in a bottle of red wine and the coffee. Add in the remaining 1 1/2 pieces of star anise. Bring to a boil and cook uncovered for a few minutes.

Cover and move the pot to the oven. Cook until the meat is tender and falling off the bone, about 2 1/2 hours. While cooking, check it occasionally and add more red wine if the level of liquid drops.

You can serve the dish right away, or cool it overnight and reheat it the next day, which will give it even more flavor. If you cool it, take the opportunity to remove any congealed fat before you heat it, and pull out the bones. Serve with noodles or mashed potatoes to capture the sauce.

Serves 4-6