Sea bass over braised fennel

Moist heat cooking is, in a word, braising. Well, stewing, too, but this class focused on braising. (Boiling, blanching, poaching, simmering, and steaming fall under wet heat cooking, not moist heat cooking.)

(Note: Hong was absent today; the ebullient, talkative Ted substituted.)

Why braise?

Braising is a standard cooking technique in which you cook meat, poultry, fish, or vegetables “low and slow” — at a low oven or stove-top temperature for a relatively long period of time. Braising works wonders on lean or tough (read: cheap) cuts of meat because the slow cooking breaks the meat’s collagen into gelatin, which results in the mouth feel of a rich, fatty dish without adding any fat. But even items low in collagen, such as vegetables, can benefit from a braise. Braising tender cuts of meat, though, is not worth the time or effort.

Braising techniques

When braised correctly, the meat, when done, will fall right off the bone. You’re essentially cooking the meat until it falls apart; “it’s very hard to screw up a braise,” said Ted. You don’t even have dirty your instant meat thermometer. But though the cooking part of the braise is often foolproof, setting the stage for your braise takes some solid prep work. Here’s what you need to know:

Temperature. Braising temperature must be high enough to break down the collagen, but not so hot that the proteins contract into tight clumps. A cast-iron enameled pot, such as those gorgeous LeCreuset dutch ovens that I can barely lift let alone afford, in a 325°F oven is usually a good bet, as it will get its contents nice and hot, but not hot enough to, say, boil water. Thinner vessels might require lower cooking temperatures.

Food prep. Sweat your aromatics (onion, fennel, tomato, whatever) to release their moisture and concentrate their flavor. Do not brown the aromatics: if you hear them sizzling, turn down the heat. Sometimes you want to sear or brown your meat (veal or short ribs, for example), sometimes you just want to cook it in advance just a bit, sometimes no pre-heating is necessary (white fish, for example). Sometimes you’ll pre-cook some parts of your braise and not others.

Add all concentrated aromatics, stocks, liquids, and other flavor and moisture vehicles to the pot with the featured food.

Equipment prep. Though the food to be braised should fit comfortably in the cooking vessel (the pot should be two or three times as high as the food, says Ted), you want to ensure maximum moisture retention by creating an inverted lid to use in conjunction with the vessel’s regular lid.

An inverted lid is easy to make: take a large sheet of aluminum foil (about at least as long as four times the height plus two times the longest flat dimension of the vessel, or you can just eyeball it after you read the rest of these instructions), and press the center of the foil onto the center of the food in the pot. Then carefully mold the foil around the food, then up along the sides of the pot, then over the edge. The seal around the food should be as tight as possible.

To prevent the foil from reacting to any acidic content in your braise, put a piece of parchment directly on top of the food before adding the inverted foil lid. This is easier than dealing with the foil: on the parchment, just trace the outer edge of cover of the pot, cut along your tracing, then drop the parchment in your pot. Then add the inverted foil lid, and you’re ready to braise.

Doneness test. As mentioned, braised meat should simply fall off the bone. Another way to tell if the meat is cooked: stick a skewer in a thick part and pull it out. If the skewer came in and out easily, the meat is done. White fishes, of course, will be opaque and flaky when done; vegetables should be as tender as you’d like them to be.

Sauce prep. Strain vegetables and solids out of the cooking liquid, then pour the liquid into a clear measuring cup and let it sit until the fat begins to separate from the liquid. Defat the liquid using a turkey baster, spoon, or your favorite defatting device. Reduce the strained, defatted liquid. Combine with your braise and serve.

Our fabulous braises

We had to prep our braises and stews quickly, especially those of us making the short ribs, pork, and veal recipies. Oh, and the rabbit fricassee (!). The class is four hours long tops, including lecture, prep, cooking, workstation cleaning, and a sit-down lunch of our delicious creations, so there was little time to spare. I was making sea bass and Gary was preparing chicken, so our prep time was a little more relaxed.

My must-make-at-home selections are the Osso Buco alla Milanese (veal shanks in the style of Milan), the pork and butternut squash stew, and the sea bass, so I’ll focus on those here; let me know if you desire more information about fricassee de lapin (the rabbit fricassee, of which I loved the creamy sauce and velvety mushrooms, but I found the rabbit a bit dry, which I thought was impossible for a braise), braised short ribs with dried cherries (I was not impressed with the ribs, but I could make a meal of the cherry sauce), and poulet au vinaigre à l’estargon (braised chicken with vinegar and tarragon). Though Gary did cook up a nice, moist chicken, the sauce made my throat lock up a bit — I don’t handle vinegary sauces very well, I guess. Pucker up!

Osso Buco alla Milanese. Preheat oven to 350°F. Lightly flour eight veal shanks. Heat olive oil in large casserole and brown shanks on all sides. Discard oil, add butter and sauté finely chopped carrots and onion, and minced garlic, until soft. Return shanks to casserole and add dry white wine. On high heat, reduce wine by half and add canned peeled Italian tomatoes, a strip of orange rind, saffron, basil, parsley, and two cups veal or chicken stock. Season. Cover with parchment and inverted foil lid, add casserole’s lid, and braise in oven for one to one-and-a-half hours, or until a skewer can be inserted and taken out without resistance. Remove shanks and reduce cooking juices. Add gemolata and garnish with strips of orange and lemon rind.

Pork and butternut squash stew. (Fabulous fall dish alert!) Preheat oven to 325°F. Reduce two cups chicken stock to one cup. In large casserole, heat some olive oil and brown pieces of pork butt or shoulder (fat trimmed) in two shifts. Season. Add more olive oil to casserole, sauté onions in casserole until soft. Add garlic, cumin, crushed red pepper, and bay leaf and cook one minute. Add white wine and boil until reduced by half. Stir in canned crushed tomatoes, chicken stock, and browned pork. Bring to simmer, cover with parchment and inverted foil lid, add casserole’s lid, and bake one hour in oven. Remove from oven, place on stove top and add a butternut squash cut into one-inch cubes. Cook over medium heat until the squash is tender. Remove bay leaf. Add cider vinegar. Stir in cilantro.

Sea bass over braised fennel. (Pictured above.) Preheat oven to 450°F. Chop some fennel fronds for garnish, set aside. Cut two fennel bulbs into one-quarter inch slices. Cook fennel, sliced onion, and anchovy paste in olive oil over medium heat. Season, then add chicken broth and braise, covered, until tender. Remove lid and boil, stirring occasionally, until liquid is evaporated. Transfer to 1.5-quart shallow baking dish. While fennel braises, cook chopped onion, red pepper flakes, and salt in oil in a separate skillet over medium heat, until onion is soft. Add canned whole tomatoes with their juice and simmer, breaking tomatoes and stirring occasionally, until thick. Arrange sea bass fillets (three-quarter-inch thick, boned to the extent possible) on top of fennel mixture and season with salt. Spoon tomato mixture over fish. Cover with parchment and inverted foil lid, add baking dish’s lid, and bake until fish is just cooked through, about 20 to 25 minutes. Sprinkle with reserved fennel fronds.

The weeklong "no-chicken-breast" challenge will soon begin!

A recent run-in with a pile of sawdust-dry chicken breast (thank you, Blue Shirt Café) has seriously maddened my chixbreastphiliac taste buds and they are rebelling — as are my teeth that had to chew, and my throat muscles that labored to swallow the tasteless mass — leaving me no choice but to ban the substance, at least for a week, so . . .

Chicken breast is dead to me (!) at least through Saturday, January 16. Most other parts of the chicken are welcome. Gary’s on board with this, too, and looks forward to a dinner of fine chicken thighs. And I’m planning meals around eggs and pork tenderloin.

It’s probably a very good thing, since chicken breast has dominated my diet for decades. It’s time to break loose and enjoy other meats and proteins for a little while. Wheeeee! I’m such a daredevil !!!!!!!!!