Friday, April 19, 2019

Italian Beef Braciole is So Good It'll Make You Cry

There’s really no way to sugar coat the truth here. Italian Beef Braciole is a time and labor-intensive recipe. It also requires some skill with knots and butcher’s string. This is definitely a special occasion dish–something to serve for Christmas dinner, or some other holiday dinner, or for an especially fancy Sunday. It’s one of those dishes that simmers on the stove top for hours, requiring you to hang out in the kitchen most of the day. And around the holidays that can be really fun, or horrible depending on your temperament. In fact, I’d say that if you really like to eat great food, but don’t really like to cook, then this isn’t the recipe for you. On the other hand, if you’re the type who doesn’t balk at the prospect of making a few hundred ravioli by hand (i.e., someone with the patience of an Italian grandmother), you may as well have a pot of braciole simmering while you’re working.

So why go to all of that trouble? Because Italian Beef Braciole is so good it’ll make you want to cry. It’s extraordinarily delicious. A lot of love goes into a dish like this, and you can definitely taste it.

WHAT IS ITALIAN BEEF BRACIOLE?

Like many Italian dishes, people have very passionate and strongly held opinions about what braciole is and how it’s properly made. Of the myriad versions and local variations available, there is only one way to properly execute the dish and all other ways are unthinkable. And why is this one version the correct way? Because that’s how your nonna makes it. I love that. I love the idea that the world’s authority on Italian cuisine is someone’s grandmother.

Even the name is open to contention. In Italy these little packets of meat are called involtini (in fact, I have a recipe for eggplant involtini right here). Braciole, a word of Sicilian origin, is what they’re referred to primarily by Italian-Americans.

The authority of your nonna aside, there is much variation in this dish. Basically, a braciole is a piece of very thin meat (beef, pork, chicken, and in Sicily even fish) filled with a cheese filling and either tied into a roll or secured with toothpicks. They’re pan fried and then placed in a sauce to simmer until done. The sauce also varies.

Even the size of the braciole is variable. Some versions use a large sheet of beef, spread with a lot of filling. When wrapped up, they look almost like little rolled roasts. Apparently there are also very tiny braciole in Sicily that would fit on a toothpick like an hors-d’oeuvre.

I should also admit that Italian Beef Braciole is a bit of an indulgent dish for yours truly. One typically doesn’t eat a lot of red meat on the Mediterranean diet. That said, one of the great things about the Mediterranean diet–one that makes it easy to stick with–is that there isn’t much that’s totally off limits. Red meat and cheese is a rare treat, and totally acceptable within limits.

My version is based in part on Yotam Ottolenghi’s Puglian recipe (Puglia is a town in the heel of the Italian boot), and in part on Hal Licino’s version. I recommend reading Hal’s recipe because he harbors the very kind of passionate and strongly held opinions about braciole that I described above (he calls his “The Best Braciole on Earth”!). It’s a delightful read.

HOW TO MAKE ITALIAN BEEF BRACIOLE

Here is a list of pointers for making this recipe. It’ll help you avoid a few of the pitfalls I ran into when I made mine.
  • You’re going to end up pounding out thin sheets of beef until they’re very thin, so you can roll up a filling inside. Unless you have mad knife skills, I suggest asking your butcher to thinly slice very lean the beef for you (I used top sirloin myself, and I did the knife-work myself, and my knife skills are far from mad).
  • I suggest investing in a meat mallet or meat hammer to pound out the beef. You could use a claw hammer I suppose, but you run the risk of bashing a hole in your meat. Then your filling will leak out, and we don’t want that. And incidentally, if you ever form a Scandinavian death metal band, I also recommend that you name that band Meat Hammer.
  • You’re also going to need to tie those little beef rolls. There’s a chef’s trick to that, if you don’t have any experience in this area. Here’s a handy YouTube video that’ll show you how. If this seems too fussy to you, jam some toothpicks through your braciole and call it good (of course your filling will probably leak out, and we really don’t want that).
  • If you make smaller braciole like I did, you’ll find that you really can’t get a lot of filling inside. That being the case, you need less filling that you may think. I ended up with more than half of my filling left over (and FYI, I adjusted the amounts in my recipe so you don’t have the same problem). Oh, and in case you’re wondering what I did with the leftover filling, I made these delicious Eggplant Involtini
  • You need to stir the sauce obsessively so it won’t stick. Not constantly mind you. You’re not making risotto here. Just often. Be vigilant, like Henry Hill in Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas. This stuff simmers for hours. I came close to scorching mine a few times but caught it just in time.
  • Finally, I topped my dish with a classic lemon, garlic, and parsley gremolata. I’m not sure what your nonna would think of that. Gremolata is a Milanase concoction, so I’ve probably committed a grave culinary sin. At any rate, it’s not part of most of the recipes I reviewed. But let me tell you this: the gremolata cranks this dish up to eleven. Give it a try.
by Steve Heikkila, Slow Burning Passion |  Read more:
Image: Steve Heikkila
[ed. I also added spinach in the filling. They really are that good (especially the sauce).]