Ossobuco con Piselli e Gnocchetti 

but first . . . 

Last night I was in the grocery store to purchase the all important peas and some ice cream (cravings) and milk (future ricotta cheese - that recipe to follow soon!) and the man in front of me was checking out at the cashier. To my horror, here is what he bought:

13 Swanson TV dinners (assorted turkey, sweet and sour chicken, pork something or other and beef something or other - all on sale at $1.00 a piece!)

6 bottles, I mean litre bottles of Cherry Soda, Sprite, Coke (all of it pure carbonated sugar)

3 large half gallon containers of pineapple juice and orange juice

at least 6 bags of potato chips and God only knows what else was already packed in his shopping bags. 

He obviously doesn't cook. I felt sorry for him but I was appalled nonetheless. I say appalled because it is so unnecessary to poison one's body with prepared garbage posing as food. Just the salt alone was enough to give me a stroke. And then there was the sugar: Entenmann's Chocolate Chip Cookies - a few boxes of those.

I'm the first one to admit that carbohydrates and sugar are bad for you but if ingested in moderate degrees it certainly won't give you a coronary, but what this person is going to consume over the next week or so will soften his brain to sludge. The poor man's pallor was already gray. I wanted to warn him of the ills that would follow on such a diet but kept my mouth shut. He paid cash for his food and it's his money and his life. Channeling Dante, I can only - sympathetically -  paraphrase: Into this dark wood I found myself wandering and came upon that place where it warned: abandon all hope, ye who enter here!

You'll note that I made cookies with potato chips but that doesn't mean I'm going to eat an entire bag in front of the boob toob; to be perfectly honest, my television went out the window with Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky and I haven't watched it since. So a word to the wise: eat healthy food. Make it yourself, or at least if you can't make it, buy food that is fresh and that you can see (and hopefully touch - Julia was all for touching!) before you put it into your mouth. Even my dog has a more discriminating palette. 

Now, to the main event. Ossobuco made from veal is an expensive prospect, but the rewards when eating it are worth every penny. I'm sure there are stories of eating veal, the fatted calf, and how to make it that go all the way back to the age when calves were sacrificed. But our intention here is to eat it, not to let it go up in smoke.

Ossobuco is traditionally made throughout Italy, although you would be hard pressed to find it on those islands surrounded by the sea, Sicily and Sardegna, except in restaurants and for a very dear price indeed. It is typically made in Lombardia, the Veneto and Emilia Romagna but is also made wherever the production of beef flourishes. In the nether regions of the Veneto (Friuli and the Alto Adige) it is known as Stinco, a derivation from the Triestino dialect, schinco (shank). 

Ossobuco, tied and ready for the stew pot!

Dizionario Garzanti defines stinco as the shin bone, and the literal translation for Ossobuco is bone with a hole, and that is precisely what Ossobuco is. Other animals besides the calf also offer magnificent versions of this dish. I've had incredible Ossobuco made with Elk, and Venison here in New York City (at Employees Only on Hudson Street and at the Terrace Restaurant in Morningside Heights respectively); I've made lamb shanks but they are quite a different texture altogether and I remember an exceptionally mouth watering Stinco di Capra (goat) I had in Bologna (where else?) many years ago that knocked my socks off. These are rather gamier than veal and even though they may not have the same delicacy of calves flesh, they are just as pleasurable if prepared under the right hands.

If one were to call Beef braised in Barolo or Amarone the king of the braise, then Ossobuco is its queen. The secret is to cook it to the point where the meat falls off the bone but keep it intact until it reaches the plate! Waverly Root wrote that he counted at least 7 different versions in seven different Italian cookbooks and suspected that there were at least double that amount to be found in Lombardy alone. As I write this, I have in front of me a dozen of the 350+ cookbooks in my library (3 by the Hazans (mother and son), 2 by Bugialli, 1 by Batali and several more) and can attest to his veracity. Not one recipe is the same and in some of the books one finds at least two or three different versions on how to cook it (cut in slices, roasted whole, etc.) from a variety of opposing camps. A stinco in Friuli might be the entire leg roasted by itself to perfection with aromatic vegetables strewn on the bottom of the pan to use later for a sauce made from white wine, stock, tomato and herbs. An entire hind leg (the preferred cut) could serve 4-6 people depending on the size and what else is being or has been served beforehand. Keep in mind that in Italy, this dish is definitely a secondo which has been preceded by an antipasto and/or a primo, one of those definitely composed of pasta or soup (with pasta or not). The Milanese serve Ossobuco with Risotto alla Milanese, which would preclude a starch as a first course, however, there are so very many ways that it is cooked that it is hard to pinpoint the original to any one region. Be that as it may, the Ossobuco with which we here in the US are most familiar is the one that is slowly braised in a mixture of broth, white wine, vegetables and tomatoes depending on personal taste. Some recipes call for saffron, some do not, some prefer peas in the tomato sauce, others do not, while there exist still recipes which use no tomato at all. The one thing that is definitely consistent in every recipe, however, is the inclusion of gremolata (grated lemon peal, garlic and parsley, but even that is but one version) at the very end before serving.

Rarely does the home cook make an entire hind leg of veal left intact from oven or stove to the table. Most butchers cut the shank in thick slices (Marcella Hazan recommends not more that 1 1/2 inches thick), but if you have very - and I mean VERY - deep pockets and want to make a dramatic statement for a special occasion, it's definitely the way to go. As one famous chef writes in one of his cookbooks, "it makes heads turn!" But then, he, who will remain nameless, would say something like that. However, Ms. Hazan is not a great fan of the entire shank as it "rarely cooks long or slowly enough and it usually ends up being chewy and stringy." She also doesn't put Gremolata in her Ossobuco! See what I mean about personal taste? TV dinners or Gremolata? You decide!

So, here is my version of Ossobuco. It's not that complicated but it's not simple either. Patience is key . . . 

Serves 4 people

4 veal shanks (sliced to 1 1/2 inch thickness, tied with twine to hold the meat in place)

1/4 cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil1 medium-sized onion, finely chopped

2 cloves garlic

2 carrots peeled and chopped (fine dice)

1 stalk celery (peeled and finely chopped)

1 sprig fresh rosemary (finely chopped)

1 tablespoon fresh thyme (finely chopped

4-5 Fresh sage leaves (coarsely chopped)

1 cup white wine or dry vermouth

1 cup hot chicken or veal stock 

1 large can peeled tomatoes in juice (crushed)

Grated rind of one orange

Kosher Salt

Pepper (about 12 turns of the pepper mill will do nicely)

Saffron (dissolved in the white wine)

1 cup small peas (optional)

3-4 tbls. unsalted butter

Heat the oil over moderately high heat and brown the shanks on both sides. Remove the shanks and add more oil if necessary and add onions, garlic, carrots, celery and herbs and sauté over medium heat until the onions turn translucent. Add the white wine and the saffron and cook over high heat until greatly reduced. Place veal shanks back in the pan and add the stock and bring to the boil. At this point add the grated orange rind to the tomatoes and add to the stock, check for seasoning and once the mixture has begun to boil, lower heat to a simmer and cover the pot. Simmer for a couple of hours, stirring occasionally but making sure not to upset the veal shanks. You want the veal to cook slower than faster so the flavors become infused. 

After a couple of hours, check with a fork to see if the veal is tender. You will know it is done when the flesh recedes from the bone. Turn of the heat, let the veal rest in the covered pot and come to room temperature. The shanks can be refrigerated at this point and saved for a very gentle reheating later on or if left until the next day, the Ossobuco will taste even better. You can always add a bit of stock or water if the sauce is too thick or reduces too much during cooking.

I add peas and some unsweetened butter right before the Gremolata. The butter adds sweetness and depth to the sauce and the peas definitely add a bit of crunch to the dish as a whole, not to mention the contrast in colors.

Ossobuco con Piselli e Gnocchetti

The addition of Gremolata at the very end of cooking should be added only before ready to serve. If you refrigerate the veal, add the Gremolata when reheating, not before. Same goes for the peas and the butter.

Gremolata

Grated rind of one lemon

1 tablespoon chopped parsley 

1 clove garlic, minced or passed through a garlic press

Grate the lemon avoiding the white pith. Add the garlic and the parsley and mix thoroughly.

Oh, and one - actually two - more things! Don't forget to eat the marrow inside the bone with a chunk of bread or scoop it out and mix it in with the sauce while eating. DELICIOUS!

The bone, by the way, can be gnawed on by your dog. Mine loves them.

Buon appetito!