This is my take on Julia Child’s recipe for Beef and Onions Braised in Beer, aka “Carbonade flamande,” aka “Flemish Stew.” There’s no improving her recipe; it’s fantastic. However, her instructions assume a certain knowledge of cookery; I’ve fleshed them out for someone less experienced. I’ve also made a few modest modifications: 1) I turned her two-pot method into a one-pot, which honestly isn’t that much of a change in terms of outcome, but big enough in terms of kitchen mess, and 2) I’ve also gone out into the world to see what other people do, and have incorporated a few of their ideas.

This is quite an amazing stew. It has a deep, rich flavor and the beef is impressively tender. It’s exquisite comfort food, executed to a level that would make it perfectly at home as part of an upscale dinner. Making it is an all-day affair that will heat up your kitchen, so cook it on a snowy Sunday that threatens Monday morning school closings. Fantastic when freshly made, but gets even better with time. Two days later, you’ll find it has taken on more nuance. When you reheat it, though, don’t just warm it up. Slowly bring it to a thorough simmer, and then let it rest for a minute.

What you need to serve six:

A good deal of rendered bacon fat, or 1 lb. uncooked bacon
3 lbs. boneless beef chuck or rump pot roast
1½ lbs peeled, quartered, and thinly-sliced onions (from two large onions)
Salt and freshly-ground pepper
4 cloves garlic, mashed
1 cup beef stock
24 oz. beer, (room temperature), plus more for possible sauce augmentation and (cold) for serving
3 Tbs brown sugar
1½ Tbs minced parsley
½ Tbs fresh thyme leaves
1 bay leaf
½ Tbs corn starch
2 Tbs wine vinegar

How to do it:

1. If you already have the fat, skip this step. Otherwise, cook the bacon to render its fat. (See the notes toward the bottom of this Mac ‘n’ Cheese post for a good method.) Set the fat aside. Dedicate the bacon for another use, such as munching on it while you’re preparing this stew, or for making chicken salad, or a million other things. 
2. Slice the roast into ½-inch slices, and then slice each of the slices into 4-inch segments. Wrap them in paper towels, to get them nice and dry.
3. Cover the bottom of a large (5-quart) casserole with about 1/16-inch of fat and heat it almost to the smoking point.
4. Working in batches, brown the meat pieces quickly, on both sides. “Quickly” means that in no more than 1½ minutes per side, you should get beautiful browning (otherwise, the oil’s not hot enough). “Batches” means that you cannot let the pieces crowd one another; otherwise, you won’t get the kind of browning you’re after. You will probably need to adjust the heat as you go, to maintain proper browning while avoiding smoke. This process is going to produce nasty spattering. Use a spatter screen. Furthermore, when you lay pieces into the pan, let them fall away from you, never toward you. Also, when turning them (with tongs), wear oven gloves. Last piece of advice: don’t do this in shorts and a t-shirt. Remove the browned meat to a plate and set aside.
5. Lower the heat to medium and add the onions to the pan. Stir them frequently until they become quite soft, about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 325ºF.
6. Off heat, move the onions to a mixing bowl. Season them with salt (go light if your stock is salty) and pepper, then stir in garlic.
7. If the bottom of your casserole has fond stuck to it, deglaze with stock.
8. Nestle ½ of the beef into the casserole, along with any juices that may have accumulated as the beef rested. Season with salt (go medium-light if your stock is salty) and pepper. Layer half the onions over the meat. Repeat with remaining meat, seasoning, and onions.
9. If it’s not already in the pan, pour the stock over the meat and onions.
10. Pour beer into the pot until you just barely cover the meat-and-onion mixture. (You may not need all 24 oz.; you may need more.)
11. Stir in brown sugar and herbs.
12. Cover the pot and over medium high heat, bring the contents to a simmer.
13. Transfer the pot (still covered) to the oven, and bake for 2½ hours, or until the meat is remarkably fork tender. Check it half-way through to see if you need to add any more beer. (If you do, it had best not be cold. Warm it if is.) The stew is done when you can effortlessly separate one piece of meat into two with just a gentle nudge of your fork. It should be so tender that using a knife on the meat should seem laughably unnecessary. When you taste it, it should feel luxurious in your mouth: neither chewy nor dry. The stew is overly done if the meat has literally fallen apart all on its own.
14. Use a Chinese spider to remove the solids from the pot to a large mixing bowl. Defat the liquid. You should wind up with 2 cups of defatted liquid. Set aside for a moment. 
15. Whisk corn starch with vinegar. Pour the defatted liquid back into the pot, turn the heat to medium-high, and stir in the starch slurry. Stir occasionally until it thickens. Meanwhile, taste the stew meat to determine whether or not it needs a seasoning correction. If it does, add that correction to the sauce.
16. Once the sauce is to your liking, pour it over the stew and then slide the entire mixture back into the casserole. Place the lid on, to keep the stew warm while you ready yourself to serve it. Garnish servings with the same herbs you used in the stew.

This stew is often served with potatoes (frites) or buttered noodles; however, carrots make a good accompaniment as well. I think the stew goes especially well with decidedly-buttery mashed potatoes. Mushrooms, sautéed separately from the stew, could make a nice side or could be stirred into the finished stew. Serve loads of sides; the meat is meant to be the star of the show in terms of taste, but not necessarily in terms of quantity. And oh yeah, serve the same beer that’s in the stew with the stew. In that regard, a pilsner makes a nice, clean palate cleanser.

Notes:

• If you’re someone who regularly saves bacon fat, you may be all set – you may not need any bacon. If you do need to render the fat, the amount you need is pretty much what you’ll render from a whole pound of bacon if you use the oven method I’m recommending.
• I tried Roundy’s brand of regular-cut bacon, and it was fine.
• If you’re using a rehydrated stock, mix it double-strength. I have a bunch of one-cup jelly jars that I keep around; they’re perfect for this. Fill one with water, add the stock reduction, cap the jar, and shake like crazy. Jelly jars also make fantastic storage containers that never take on stains or even the smelliest smells, and in a pinch, you can use them as classically quaint and bohemian wine or cocktail glasses. This commercial break brought to you by jelly jars.
• Julia’s recipe calls for a pilsner. Some recipes call for dark beer. I’ve seen many European recipes calling for a Trappist ale such as Leffe (makes a sweeter stew) or Chimay (contributes a more delicate flavor), and I get the feeling that this is more authentic. I wanted to stay close to Julia’s recipe, so I used Becks, and I needed exactly 1½ sixteen-oz. cans to do the job. I drank the leftover beer after slipping the stew into the oven, and then took a nap.
• The first step of this recipe ought to be “taste your beer.” In many of the recipes I’ve read – including Julia’s – the authors say that the purpose of the sugar is to balance the beer’s bitterness. Becks isn’t bitter. You might want to adjust the sugar from “none” to “three tablespoons” according to how bitter is your beer.
• Before mincing the herbs, consider a bouquet garni. Whenever I see the term “bouquet garni” in a recipe, I have the same reaction as I do when I see a recipe that includes the words “in a double-boiler.” Those terms remind me that Chicago has some of the finest restaurants in the country, and why don’t we go out for dinner tonight? However, if you use whole, fresh herbs, still on the stem, and you simply tie them with kitchen twine, it’d be less work than mincing them. Not a bad way to go. I don’t mind minced herbs in my stew, though; I like the rustic texture.
• If you place your casserole in the oven (without the lid, whose knob may not be safe at 400ºF) while the bacon is cooking, it’ll be perfectly preheated and ready for the roast slices. Thanks, Noel at Williams-Sonoma, for that trick!
• Slicing the roast takes some significant sawing motion with a very sharp, very serious knife. If you have the foresight, sharpen your knife beforehand. Even so, be careful.
• I have a decent stove. It’s not high-end, but it’s not cheap. To get the fat hot enough to properly sear the meat, I need to use my flame full-on, which is something I almost never do. You don’t want to cause smoking, you just want to get close to that point. That begs for the question, “How will I know when I’m near that point?” Experience. Until then, if you see even a wisp of smoke, immediately lower the heat by a dramatic amount. Note, though, that there is a difference between steam and smoke. Once you start cooking the beef, you’ll see steam. That’s OK. You just don’t want to see smoke.
• If you wind up with less than two cups of defatted liquid, you have a few choices. 1) Use what you have. Although Americans think of “stew” as a soupy kind of thing that you eat with a spoon, French stews are not soup-like and are eaten with a fork. If you go this route, reduce the thickener – which is measured to thicken two cups – according to the amount of liquid you do have. 2) You could augment your liquid with a 50/50 mixture of stock and beer. You’ll have to correct the seasonings (which you may have to do regardless); you should strongly consider some of the additions, below. If you used a reduction to create your stock, and you have more on-hand, consider that – undiluted – to be a seasoning corrector, too.

Possible additions:

• Stone-ground mustard is a nice addition to the sauce, as is Dijon. It takes some muscle, but you can whisk it into the sauce.
• Red currant jam tastes kind of like cranberry sauce, but it’s not as intense. It goes as well with beef as cranberry does with turkey. Use it as a substitute for the brown sugar. (Some people use marmalade.) Or, use it as a garnish – but if you do, go easy on the brown sugar so that when all is said and done, you don’t wind up with a sweet stew.
• Some people place a layer of a spiced bread – such as gingerbread – atop the stew as it simmers; it eventually disintegrates into the sauce. Others add gingerbread-type spices to the stew instead; I especially like allspice in this stew – it lends an alluring earthiness. Or, going in another direction, here’s a version that is served with a crème fraîche and Dijon garnish.

Mastering the Art of French Cooking, by Julia Child et al. New York: Knopf, 1967, pg. 317-18

Beef and Onions Braised in Beer

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