As I type this, it is 51 degrees outside. It's February. It's New England. The trees and meadows out the window are bare. No leaves. No snow. The little pond is not frozen over, and the Canadian Geese are floating happily, if confused, on top of it. I don't know where my hat and gloves are.
My cats sleep with their paws covering their noses, out of habit it seems, because soon enough they're rolled over onto their backs, bellies exposed, airing out and cooling off. I've shoveled the walk once, and that was in October. My car's ice scraper is still sitting on the floor of the passenger's seat, waiting. Waiting. We're all still waiting for winter. And yet, it still seems like it will never end.
I grew up in Chicago. Winter started hinting at its presence around my birthday--in early October. Yes, it was still fall, but gone were the days of long walks under brown and orange leaves, apple cider, cozy sweaters, and cute boots. Fall in Chicago lasts maybe 45 minutes, and usually when I'm stuck on a slow moving bus. Winter hits early, and hard. By November it is cold, rainy, and yes, fiercely windy. I'm never prepared for it, and despite my best efforts, I still get cold, wet pre-winter precipitation on my collarbone, still suffer the gusts of frigid air up my pant legs and coat sleeves.
This lasts well until April. I never understood the classic image of Easter Sunday, with its pastels and pretty, frilly dresses, kids frolicking in the bright green yard, searching for eggs. At my house, we were still huddling near the heating vents first thing in the morning, bundling up in poofy coats and moon boots to head to church with our parents. We never frolicked outside, we only dreamed of it, eating from our basket of candy, still miserable with winter.
And miserable it was. Winter in Chicago is brutal. Yes, that first big snow is magical. The whole city shuts up for a minute, the blanket of white snow silencing everything. Neighbors, normally strangers to each other, share shovels and rock salt and stories of the big blizzard of ’99. Or ‘79. Or '67. Or '30.
Everyone is late to work, and no one minds. All the cars on the block become banks of shoulder-high snow piles, while two narrow tracks run parallel down the street. The day goes by quickly, half the time spent shoveling, brushing, and thawing the snow away jovially. We drink hot cocoa, we stare out the window in awe of the transformation. The whiteness brightens us, fills us with nostalgia and a sense of calm. Everything is just as it should be.
Then, suddenly, the magical world outside is gone. The empty parking spaces on the street are protected by lawn furniture, reminding you that if you park there, your call will be keyed. The once-pretty, soft hills of snow flanking the street are now giant, crusty gray mountains. The icy path down the street is riddled with brand new potholes and chunks of asphalt. The bus stop becomes an obstacle course, riders climbing over snow piles and icy puddles and onto the overheated, overcrowded buses that smell of cold air and sweat all at once. You walk outside and the blast of air is so cold your eyes well up in defense. Then your tears freeze right to your eyelashes. Despite your long underwear, two shirts, wool sweater, and knee-length heavy coat, you still feel that blast of winter air on your lower back. But you get through it. Then January comes. Then February. Then March, when you start to think you'll never be warm again. By the time you finally do thaw out, it's 94 degrees with 95% humidity.
Man, do I miss that crazy town.
Over the holidays, The Husband and I were in Chicago to visit family and friends. We always make a point to go out to dinner, and this year, we went to Stephanie Izard's restaurant The Girl and the Goat. It was fun, festive, and delicious.
Upon returning to Connecticut, I promptly ordered Izard's new cookbook, Girl in the Kitchen, for the Library's collection. Izard is a Top Chef winner, her restaurant is thriving, and the cookbook is full of interesting, flavorful recipes that are easy to make at home. Plus there are pictures of really cute baby goats inside.
The cookbook is divided up by courses: Starters, Soups, Salads, Pastas, Mains, Sides, and Extras. The Introduction is brief, and it explains a bit about how she became a chef and the role cookbooks have played in her life. The Husband and I have tried a few recipes so far: the Grilled Lamb-Stuffed Calamari with Crispy Shallots and the Seared Halibut with Peanut-Pork Ragu were incredible. Izard is a master at combining unexpected sweet, salty, spicy, and sour flavors, and her dishes (in her restaurant and when made at home) are a joy to eat.
When I saw the recipe for her "Never-Ending-Chicago-Winter Beef Stew", I knew I had to make it. Beef stew is so perfect on a cold, blustery evening when you have no desire to go out and hit the town, but just want to fold yourself into the couch, a warm bowl in your lap. The rich beef, savory broth, and hearty vegetables make you feel safe from the wind and snow. I craved this dish, and actually wished that the world beyond my windows was harsh, brutal, unbearable. I looked out the window, the sky clear and sunny, kids running around hatless, runners in shorts, not a single windshield wiper turned up toward the sky. I actually missed winter. For like, 2 seconds. Then I realized I wouldn't be scraping ice off my car any time soon, and I was happy.
But, temperature be dammed, I made the stew anyway. It was actually a bit unconventional. Its ingredients include Asian fish sauce and sambal paste, which was curious, but also apple, pear, and pineapple, which was just weird. Izard explains that pineapple actually contains certain enzymes that help to tenderize the meat. That doesn't explain the apple or the pear, but whatever. I knew the girl could cook, so I trusted her.
I was a bit bummed that the dish doesn't include wintry vegetables like squash or even carrots, though I swear one of those appear in the picture next to the recipe. The stew is made up mostly of the beef, the fruit, and a lot of tomatoes, along with some wine, broth, onion and garlic, and some apple cider. The cider and the fruit give it some sweetness, while the vinegar, Worcestershire, Dijon mustard, and tomatoes give it a nice tanginess. The fish sauce provides a whollop of saltiness, so go easy on it, as well as the other salty components. I followed the recipe, and before browning, I salted the meat pretty liberally, which normally works well, but here, it resulted in stew that was just a tad over-salty. Being a proud salt fiend, I didn't mind. But the Husband isn't as fond as I am, and reminded me that the dishes in Izard's restaurant were a bit too salty as well. I had forgotten.
I used grass-fed beef stew meat, and at first I worried it would be too dry. But after 4 hours of simmering, the beef was wonderfully tender and flavorful, the stew itself complex, rich, and comforting. Next time I will surely add some hearty squash or root veggies and cut back on the salty ingredients. And I kind of hope that next time, it will actually be winter.
Upon returning to Connecticut, I promptly ordered Izard's new cookbook, Girl in the Kitchen, for the Library's collection. Izard is a Top Chef winner, her restaurant is thriving, and the cookbook is full of interesting, flavorful recipes that are easy to make at home. Plus there are pictures of really cute baby goats inside.
The cookbook is divided up by courses: Starters, Soups, Salads, Pastas, Mains, Sides, and Extras. The Introduction is brief, and it explains a bit about how she became a chef and the role cookbooks have played in her life. The Husband and I have tried a few recipes so far: the Grilled Lamb-Stuffed Calamari with Crispy Shallots and the Seared Halibut with Peanut-Pork Ragu were incredible. Izard is a master at combining unexpected sweet, salty, spicy, and sour flavors, and her dishes (in her restaurant and when made at home) are a joy to eat.
When I saw the recipe for her "Never-Ending-Chicago-Winter Beef Stew", I knew I had to make it. Beef stew is so perfect on a cold, blustery evening when you have no desire to go out and hit the town, but just want to fold yourself into the couch, a warm bowl in your lap. The rich beef, savory broth, and hearty vegetables make you feel safe from the wind and snow. I craved this dish, and actually wished that the world beyond my windows was harsh, brutal, unbearable. I looked out the window, the sky clear and sunny, kids running around hatless, runners in shorts, not a single windshield wiper turned up toward the sky. I actually missed winter. For like, 2 seconds. Then I realized I wouldn't be scraping ice off my car any time soon, and I was happy.
But, temperature be dammed, I made the stew anyway. It was actually a bit unconventional. Its ingredients include Asian fish sauce and sambal paste, which was curious, but also apple, pear, and pineapple, which was just weird. Izard explains that pineapple actually contains certain enzymes that help to tenderize the meat. That doesn't explain the apple or the pear, but whatever. I knew the girl could cook, so I trusted her. I was a bit bummed that the dish doesn't include wintry vegetables like squash or even carrots, though I swear one of those appear in the picture next to the recipe. The stew is made up mostly of the beef, the fruit, and a lot of tomatoes, along with some wine, broth, onion and garlic, and some apple cider. The cider and the fruit give it some sweetness, while the vinegar, Worcestershire, Dijon mustard, and tomatoes give it a nice tanginess. The fish sauce provides a whollop of saltiness, so go easy on it, as well as the other salty components. I followed the recipe, and before browning, I salted the meat pretty liberally, which normally works well, but here, it resulted in stew that was just a tad over-salty. Being a proud salt fiend, I didn't mind. But the Husband isn't as fond as I am, and reminded me that the dishes in Izard's restaurant were a bit too salty as well. I had forgotten.
I used grass-fed beef stew meat, and at first I worried it would be too dry. But after 4 hours of simmering, the beef was wonderfully tender and flavorful, the stew itself complex, rich, and comforting. Next time I will surely add some hearty squash or root veggies and cut back on the salty ingredients. And I kind of hope that next time, it will actually be winter.
