Total cooking time: 4 1/4 hours. For all 255 minutes of it, the recipe was right. My boeuf bourguignonne took a lot of love. How much, you ask? I despise beef, and avoid it at all costs. I do not have a heavy bottom 6-quart pot. I did not have seven of the ingredients. And this was Highland angus meat, not wimpy beef to give up easily. But we improvised. And, with half a bottle of wine simmering over it for hours, that beef melted into the highest form of yummo-ness. I scraped every remnant I could from that pan.
Pretending to be Julia Child: 1
Boeuf bourguignonne being better than edible:1
Scrubbie-doo that cleaned the pan: 0
(No photos available because, let’s be honest, beef doesn’t look good in photos, in the same way cheese doesn’t sound good in poems.)
In case you 1. don’t know me, or 2. haven’t picked this up: I love to eat. I love when I can honestly say 'yumm-o!' I am actually crazy about food. I love cooking it, picking it out, looking at it, reading about it, talking about it, smelling it, eating it. Walk just told me this is obvious from our blog. Really?!
I used to check out stacks of cookbooks from the library. Walk knows my favorite date is going out to dinner. Arrival at any hotel means searching the room for the restaurant guide, every time. I love food words like olive, apple butter, crust, nutmeg . . . and food actions. Simmer. Broil. Flambee. Blanch. Believe me, I could go on.
There was no microwave in this flat when we arrived, and although we contemplated buying one, I let my health-nut side tug me over. No microwave means extra dishes in which to reheat. I definitely grumbled and scrubbed my way through the first couple days, and Walker offered several times to buy one.
But, here we are, and I’ve totally forgotten we don’t have one. I cook every meal on the stove or heat it in the oven, and the ritual is comforting. Maybe this harkens back to my idea of walking: enjoy the travel time. I savor food more for spending more time with it. Every meal is worth my time, because food is more than a necessity. It’s a delight.
A friend once told me life is too short for bad books. I say life is far too short for bland meals. Love what you eat.