Daube de Boeuf á La Provençale

I’m still on my Julia Child kick. Actually, it’s turning into more of an obsession. After all, ‘too much of a good thing’ is, in my opinion, hardly enough.

Last night’s recipe was Daube de Boeuf which is a casserole of beef with wine and vegetables. Then, I saw that Julia had provided a variation, Daube de Boeuf á La Provençale which included the addition of anchovies, capers and garlic. Anything with anchovies, and I’m on board. Besides, life’s too short to overlook the variations.

As usual, you begin by cutting the beef into cubes and chopping the onions.

Julia calls for fresh tomatoes that are skinned, seeded and chopped. I was tempted to bung in a can of chopped tomatoes, but I followed her recipe. To skin the tomatoes, drop them in boiling water until the skins begin to pull away, plunk them in cold water and slip their skins right off.

Dealing with fresh tomatoes is a tedious and lonely affair. . .

Marinate the beef in white wine along with the carrots, onions, and herbs.

As with many recipes, it calls for one bay leaf.

Okay, let’s talk for a moment about this ‘one bay leaf’ thing. For the life of me, I could never see how one dried up leaf can impart any flavor at all. I’d be willing to bet that if you made a recipe with one bay leaf and one without, no one would be able to tell the difference. Really.

So, I pulverized the bay leaf in a coffee grinder that I use just for spices.

Okay, I got ‘the bay leaf thing’ off my chest. . .

Julia says to marinate the beef for three hours. It was getting late so I let it marinate long enough for me to watch Modern Family. I realize that such blatant disregard for Julia’s work should be a felonious offense, but I hadn’t read the recipe ahead of time as closely as I should and the three-hour marinade came as a surprise.

After the marinating is complete, remove the beef, dust with flour and set aside. Now, you begin layering everything in a casserole beginning with bacon. (Always a good beginning.)

Bacon, onions, mushrooms, tomatoes, beef. . .
Bacon, onions, mushrooms, tomatoes, beef. . .
Bacon, onions, mushrooms, tomatoes, beef. . .

Pour the white wine marinade over it all, enough beef stock to cover and shove it in the oven for 2 ½ hours. Your dwelling will be infumed with a heavenly scent.

Oh, did I tell you that my kitchen still has the original cabinets from 1964? They’re yellow, metal cabinets. At first, they’re the most hideous things ever, but the retro appeal is something I’d never want to part with.

Toward the end of the cooking, you mash together a tin of anchovies, capers, olive oil, white wine vinegar and garlic. Mix that in and bake it for another half hour.

At the end, whisk in butter.

While this dish was not as appealing as the boeuf bourguignon or the chicken fricassee, to me anyway, I could not stop eating it. Nor did a take a photo of the final product. (I can update that later.)

What I love about Julia's recipes is that they always come out perfect. There's never any need to "adjust seasonings" or "thicken if necessary." To be honest, working from her book is the first time I have ever followed a recipe. The woman has done her homework and I love what I'm learning -- about cooking, about French food, and about myself.

There’s plenty of daube left. It makes a huge amount.

My neighbors will be well-fed.