Saucy, Salty Beef Tzimmes for Today

Dill, as much as I love it, is out of season during the winter in France—so I’m dressing up my stews in cilantro, which prefers cool weather.

Fennel seeds, blooming spices, garlic and wine are replacing brown sugar in this modern take on a classic Jewish stew

As a kid, there was nothing I hated more than tzimmes—a stew of beef, carrots and potatoes sweetened with honey and a heaping cup of brown sugar. It was usually served during high holidays at my grandmother’s house, as if it were her very Jewish answer to ambrosia. Dry mouth, bloated stomach, quickly-fading appetite: I just wasn’t made for sticky-sweet stews.

Tzimmes—the Yiddish word for “a fuss”—is an Ashkenazi Jewish stew of sweetened vegetables, usually carrots and potatoes, often tossed in with red meat. Ironically, it’s not fussy at all: it’s a straight-forward meat and veg braise. Why carrots and potatoes? Because chopped, they look like coins and money means prosperity. It’s traditionally sweetened with dry fruits—like prunes or raisins—and not with the sugar we find in Jewish-American home kitchens today. Tzimmes, as it’s intended, is pretty delicious: it’s like the Ashkenazi cousin of a Moroccan tajine.

The recipe I’m working with here is not a traditional tzimmes because I’m not adding anything sweet. Tasked with cooking for my French side of the family, I tossed out the sugar and set out to bring back what I do love about this classic dish: a soul-warming heat that can only come from beef and root vegetables. The French, particularly, dislike sweet food unless it’s for dessert (and even dessert is less sugary than in the States, as it’s often drenched in alcohol or citrus). I also wanted to make the stew richer with wine—already a sweeter and lighter acid than vinegar—fennel seeds and spices bloomed in fat.

And while I generally roughly chop and don’t bother peeling my garlic or onions for a stew that cooks all day, I decided, this time, to be more delicate. I wanted to preserve the idea that the star vegetables should be the carrots and potatoes. I also added a good amount of finely chopped celery stalks to add a layer of fresh flavor that counterbalanced the fat of the meat. Celery, for me, is an essential winter ingredient that—while understated—brings out the signature taste of good Jewish food: herby, lightly earthy and imperceptibly bitter.

I chose short ribs for the meat, as in many of my beef recipes, because the bones on this classic Kosher cut leave long braises with a nearly incomparable complexity. I think it would be a shame to use beef chuck and miss out on that soft, velvety marrow flavor. I brown the short ribs, add the spice and vegetables to some of the fat, and braise it all in wine for four hours, but ideally longer on a lower heat if possible. Like most braises, this can also be done overnight to save yourself time.

Plate this modern tzimmes with a bit of fat and sauce drizzled over the top and a sprinkle of fresh herbs. I do not chop my carrots for this recipe because I like the way that they look and taste whole, but if you have large carrots I suggest that you chop them. As for the wine, both red and white work—it depends on what you want. Red will accentuate the short ribs, while white will bring out the fennel seeds and spices.

A side dish isn’t necessary because this tzimmes is rich enough. However, if you have extra celery, repurposing it into a salad with fresh herbs like parsley or cilantro, a dash of olive oil and just a pinch of salt, makes a nice and easy palate cleanser.

So, am I really healthier than my nana, replacing sugar with wine and beef fat? Maybe not, and like the French, I welcome a good debate. But Jewish ambrosia this is not.

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Serving: 6 people

Ingredients:
4 short ribs, cut crosswise into 2 in pieces
2 yellow onions, peeled and finely chopped
4 celery stalks, finely chopped
6-8 large garlic cloves, peeled
6 large potatoes, peeled and quartered
6 medium carrots, peeled
1/2 bottle of wine (red or white)
2 tsp olive oil
3 tsp fennel seeds
2 tsp paprika if using red wine, 2 tsp cardamom if using white
Small handful of peppercorn
2 bay leaves (dry or fresh)
Fresh parsley or cilantro, chopped
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:

1. Preheat oven to 300F. Salt and pepper your short ribs. Heat Dutch oven on stove top with olive on medium-high heat and brown short ribs well on each side. Remove ribs and drain fat, put both aside.

2. Add two tbsp of rendered meat fat to the Dutch oven, and then your spice mix. Let spices bloom in the fat—you’ll smell it when it’s ready. Add onions and celery and another splash of the rendered meat fat (no more than a couple tbsp). Season the veggies with salt and pepper and sweat until translucent.

3. Add garlic, potatoes, carrots and mix together. Add a small pinch of salt and pepper and turn the stove off when vegetables are lightly cooked. Remove everything from the Dutch oven into a large bowl, and put the short ribs back in. Then add the veggies on top of the short ribs and add your half bottle of wine. If short ribs are not fully submerged in liquid, don’t hesitate to add water. Add another small pinch of salt and pepper.

4. Cover Dutch oven and place it in the real oven. Leave it alone for four hours. (Note: for a longer braise, leave it for eight hours at 240F; for an overnight braise, leave it at 200F up to 12 hours.)

5. Remove from oven and skim fat with a ladle from the top (for me, it’s usually two ladle-fulls). Taste and salt and pepper if needed. If ready to serve, increase oven heat to 390F and put the Dutch oven back in, but without the lid. Leave for about 30 minutes so it’s hot and the sauce thickens up just a bit.

6. Remove bones from the short ribs (although, this is up to you—it’s an interesting visual). Plate the meat with a carrot (two if small), potatoes, a garlic clove, a pinch of fresh herbs and lightly drizzled sauce.