The french word creuset literally means 'a place to mix things or a melting pot'. More commonly we recognize the word from the french brand of cookery le Creuset which makes phenomenal, forever lasting cast iron-enamel pots for the stove and oven (among other things). Anyone who really cooks either has one or wants one. Last weekend, Husband I add one to our kitchen.
|Brown, cause it was on sale.|
At the last minute our friends had to cancel but as I had already purchased four pounds of chuck roast that we would have to do something with, we decided to cook it. Together.
Husband and I have been having a bit of difficulty adjusting to married life, but lately there has been a cosmic shift or something because cooking together? Not something we would have been able to accomplish a month ago. And yet we did, with nary a tear shed. Maybe le Creuset brought us together.
Husband doesn't generally care for cooking. He is perfectly capable of it, he just doesn't like to and so I usually do it. For this dish, however, we decided we wanted to cook it as a couple. I am happy to report that not only did we succeed, we made an awesome boeuf bourguignon.
|Oh, beautiful beef.|
|The food chopping station (plus cheaters pearl onions - already peeled!|
After we'd put everything in Mr. Creuset to stew, I went downstairs to chat with the neighbor, have a glass of wine and admire the garden she has been laboring over all spring.
|Boo looked on jealously.|
|Only cook with wine you would drink.|
|Stolen hydrangeas from the neighbor's yard.|
"I sorry, we're closed," he said.
"Oh but can I please just get one baguette?" I begged.
"I sorry we're closed," he repeated.
"I know, I'm sorry but I just want one baguette, I can pay."
"The register closed," he gestured to the register, indeed closed.
"I know but you can just take the money for tomorrow maybe!" I smiled, charmingly.
He turned to his coworker and asked him to pull a baguette off the line.
"Here, is fine." He handed over a damn near perfect baguette.
"Here I can give you money."
"No, is okay."
"Yes, it's okay, here."
"No, no, no, is okay."
"Here I'll leave it right here," I laughed, left three dollars on the cash register and ran out. "Gracias! Buenos noches!!"
Before the night manager could run after me I hurried back to my car with a crunchy-on-the-outside-but-soft-on-the-inside-perfect baguette. As I passed the bakery on the way home, the manager was looking up and down the street for a girl with a stolen baguette.
Shortly after dinner was done. Because we'd heard that the secret to this dish is to reheat it we decided to let it cool for awhile before doing just that. Alas, an hour later, the waiting was over. Dinner was served.
The meat was so tender is didn't need a knife and the sauce was perfect. We had succeeded on our first try with flying colors. It was a shame that our friends couldn't join us, but that was lamented only for a moment. Few words were spoken while we licked our plates clean.
Before this Husband had firmly stated that the best food he'd had was made by my bosses wife at our company Christmas party - this very dish. He was not shy about at admitting it. Yesterday night, though, he gave the best compliment I could have ever received - ours was better than hers. The best meal he's eaten since he's been in the U.S.. I couldn't have been happier.
And holy hell, do we ever have leftovers.