La Côte de Veau Rose Soignée Tuesday, Sep 25 2012 

A Cared-For Rose Veal Rib-Eye.

1% rib-eye, made by the 47%.

My unremitting compassion for animals does not extend to greedy assholes vying for feudal power at the expense of plebeian vassals.  Sentient animals and the flesh they are raised to relinquish deserve faithful veneration.  I file grievances with the middlemen who ferry abused carcasses from the slaughterhouses and when possible inform the creature’s owner in an effort to determine or establish accountability for animal welfare.  I have yet to find a fault with any of Joe Henderson’s Randall-Linebacks, and if I am to trust Mr. Henderson (I have absolutely no reason not to) the animals are slaughtered humanely –no hematomas, broken bones or feverish meat. Proselytizing vegetarians should take note that Draonian vegetarian diets are a windfall for flatulence-deodorizing corporations  and was even a ghastly liability for the chancellor of the third Reich, whose despotic flatülenz  after a blüe-plate special was astutely recorded, for posterity, by the Führer-Furzen’s kraut-quack:

“…constipation and colossal flatulence occurred on a scale I have seldom encountered before.”

And so, as with any resource which demands resources itself to be raised, the meat in question should be treated with respect, steadfast discipline and nothing less than a proper cutting technique (clumsy woodsmen need not apply) .

A chop above the rest.

Beef rib-eyes generally conjure fat speckled, cholesterol fueled gluttony trophies for any high-pressured red-blooded Americans aspiring for type 2 diabetes  –though to be fair, food doesn’t make you fat;  lifestyle does.  Inspired by one of the pre-eminent artisan butchers of France, Hervé Sancho, the rib-eye was meticulously denuded: the Complexus, Spinalis and Longissimus Dorsi were separated to remove the sinew and any membranes.  Given the lean nature of the Lineback, fat needed to be introduced into the equation.  Jubilant fat from the kidneys (not quite suet, yet) was pounded into an even thickness and introduced into the otherwise stiff meat party.  The deckle (Spinalis) was sewn shut around the Frenched bones.  Strips of fatback barded the outside which was then proudly ornamented with lemon and orange zest because that is what a professional who gives a damn does.  In addition to providing essential flavoring, the fat retains moisture, and those variables, when applied properly, and passionately, make for an exceptional piece of meat.

Cornerstone of French quality and luxury in moderation.

The detailed rib chop was adroitly seared then gently laid to roast on a plush bedding of sweet corn, squash and small variety tomatoes at a comfortable 325ºF until done just so.  Left to rest while libations were poured, the meat relaxed, the juices redistributed themselves and a warm, sweet, roasted hush wafted over the table.  The fat itself is neither a flavor nor texture that I crave, the fragrance and moisture it afforded was exceptional for an otherwise slender, straight-laced roast.  Any muscle from a noble animal, no matter the rank or price, deserves at least half the attention of this one.  Anything worth doing, should be done right.  At least put in the effort.

Roasting Beauty.

Les Paupiettes de Veau Rosé à la Richelieu. Tuesday, Sep 11 2012 

Rose Veal Paupiettes à la Richelieu.

A properly detailed bundle of joy.

At the crosshairs of stubborn stalwart tradition and resourcefulness craftiness lay paupiettes: veal paillards wrapped around pork sausage stuffing, in this fabrication with the addition of olive-oil cured tomatoes as dictated by the Richelieu appelation.  Though it would strike any myopic marksman as a low hanging plum job (in Belgium paupiettes are knows as “birds without heads”) 3 prototypes were necessary to refine the forcemeat so as to deliver a stuffing that was firm, moist, exceedingly savory and extreme.  Beta version sought to use rose veal in its entirety, supplementing the lean nature of the meat with diced ventrèche and breadcrumb/cream panade in specific proportions based on the weight.  All craftsmen worth a damn, measure, or everything would be crooked and those bird-brained craftsmen who don’t measure would serve humanity better by making off-entered one-off T-shirts.  Sadly, the veal proved too dry.  And I cried.

Real deal veal parade.

Inaugural examples were deemed too dry and crumbly, a direct result of the lean (though tender) veal.  Pork sausage mixture left in the chamber of the extruding device was tinkered with, omitting the initial cream, maintaining the 3% breadcrumb mix, 20% oil-cured tomatoes and appropriate seasoning (fennel pollen, neutrons and picked thyme). 120g paillards cut from the tenderloin, knuckle, clod and mock tender were pounded thin, cinched  around the filling, wrapped in caul fat, cintured tight with a belt of ventrèche, elegantly trussed then a Jewy-looking fatback callote held in place with a dab of roasted garlic purée.  Ain’t that some shit?  All that with nary a tattooed appendage or hallow self-absorbed celebrity.

A breeze of summer in there. Makes one feel fine.

So the creatures get browned on all sides and then gently roasted with whatever suits one palate.  In this case, summer corn, tomatoes from the garden and lime segments for the indispensable acidity which enlivens all foodstuffs.  The veal itself is nothing short of delicious.  Pure, meaty and smells exactly what meat should smell like; not the artificial corn-stuffed bullshit that represents oh, about 96% of the beef consumed in this 47% deplorable, imbecile infested country of greedy self-righteous bigots.  Once cooked, the little bastard was juicy, well seasoned, tender and the roasted ventrèche immensely fragrant.  Not sure how this solipsistic paupiette compares to others in the Washington, DC area (or even the east coast) since I do not know of anyone else making them for retail sale.