This is the 3rd of a multi-part post on Beef, Sausage, Rigatoni. To start from the beginning, click here.

Fat Wine and Dutch Ovens

[4] Beef, Sausage, Rigatoni, and FAT

Beef short ribs are fairly fatty, which is but one factor that makes Beef, Sausage, Rigatoni fare fit for a king. It’d be a faux pas to try to drive out the fat. Indeed! Fat (and connective tissue) is why we braise! It’s going to be heavenly, and here’s how it’s going to happen: (click here to refresh your memory of the recipe) when you open the pot to add the rigatoni, you’re going to think, “There’s way too much fat in the sauce.” But there’s not. The rigatoni is going to soak a lot of it up. “It will? Is that legal?” you’re going to ask yourself. Yes, it will, and yes, your fat intake is currently unregulated by the FDA. So enjoy it while you can. Over time, the meat fibers will also absorb their share of the melted fat and melted gelatin produced by your slow-cook miracle, becoming deliciously silky and tender. If you decide to eat this braise when it’s freshly made, the sauce may be a touch more fatty than you might think fitting. However, if you let it cool, and then reheat it later – which you should favor, for it’s even better this way – the fat content will be perfect. Having said that, I wouldn’t object to cutting it a tad. What I’d do is this: before searing the ribs, cut the fatty slab off of the back of two of them. That should do it.

[5] Beef, Sausage, Rigatoni, and WINE

How often have you been cooking a stew, braise, gravy, or sauce, and said to yourself, “The aroma isn’t volatile enough! I need to find a way to bind the fat-soluble and water-soluble elements!” Well, you can relax. The wine used in this braise not only imparts a sophisticated tone to the Italianate sauce, it also solves that horrifying volatile/soluble problem, improving flavor perception by evaporation and molecular bonding. So, when your guests say, “Zoinks! This is so amazing! What’s in it?” you can say, “Science.”

To achieve this effect, I’ve experimented with the highly scientific Belle Ambiance Family Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon, California, 2012: mild, sweet undertones, a little hot in the back of the mouth. Perhaps not distinctive, will probably not hold up to peer scrutiny, but pretty easy to drink. Worked well in the braise, and paired well with it. I did read this about it, in a highly regarded scientific journal:

On the nose: It exudes layers of ripe crushed black fruit with dominance by black currant, boysenberry, blueberry jam, then comes a touch of crème de cassis, vanillin from oak, earthy minerals and phenolics. Gil Lempert-Schwarz

Will someone please pop that guy’s balloon? It smells spicy. If you’re smelling crème de cassis – and not only that, but after the smell of the blueberry jam – not blueberry, not blueberry pie, not even blueberry compote … but distinctly blueberry jam – that comes up front, you must be part fucking canine. I wonder if they give out awards for wine reviews, because it appears to be a craft unto itself. (I’m fully willing to admit that I’m clueless and that this kind of thing is beyond me.)

[6] Dutch Ovens

You can make a casserole in a Dutch oven, and you can make a casserole in a casserole, but don’t let yourself be taken in by a casserole calling itself a Dutch Oven. The original Dutch oven was rugged and popular in America from the frontier days right through the early days of the Union. People who get into serious outdoor cooking still use these kinds of Dutch ovens. If you’re bad-ass enough to be making Beef, Sausage, and Rigatoni over a campfire, hell yeah! The rest of us pansy-asses moved our cooking indoors many generations ago, but nonetheless, there are those who persist in calling any large, heavy, round pot with a lid a “Dutch oven,” even though most of these pots would never be caught dead at a barbecue, let alone a campsite. This reminds me of recitals at which I’ve heard classical violinists refer to their instruments as “fiddles,” and I’ve thought, unless you’re about to play “Turkey in the Straw” and we’re all about to do si do, what the hell are you talking about? Bottom line, here’s the type of pot you need for Beef, Sausage, and Rigatoni: it must be large, heavy, deep, it must have a lid, and it must be well-suited for both stovetop and oven use. Large enough to accommodate the ingredients: about 5 quarts. Heavy enough to be able to sear meat without scorching. Deep enough so that you can submerge the meat in the liquid. You must be able to cover it tightly enough so that the casserole doesn’t dry out in the oven. And when it comes to the oven, if your pot or lid has plastic handles, you have to know that they’re designed for oven temperatures. Not every pot is. I make Beef, Sausage, and Rigatoni in a casserole exactly like the red one pictured below.

DON’T
call this a Dutch Oven

THIS
is a Dutch Oven

…and so it this,
but let’s not go there

See Also:

Short Ribs Puerto-Rican Style

Next Up:

Igloo Meatloaf