Braised Oxtail
Michael Franti wrote a song called “Everyday Life Has Become A Health Risk.” No explanation necessary, right?
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So, food. It feels insane to discuss food right now. The United States is collapsing and we’re talking about oxtail? Well, we still need to eat. And we must escape, if only momentarily.
In discussing oxtail braises, recipes writers invariably invoke adjectives like wintry, icy, evening, and comforting. These writers are not wrong. Leave it to the IK to remember this dish on the warmest day in months, a day when the heat is off, the windows open, her woolen slippers kicked aside. This, friends, is when your hostess recalls oxtail.
Never mind. Rain is in the forecast. The temperature drops as she writes.
Oxtail takes its sweet time to cook. This poses no problem for the preparer: simply pop your tail, or more realistically, tails, into a slow oven or crock pot. Occupy yourself calling senators, writing emails, unfriending alt-right relatives, or just freaking the fuck out.
There’s plenty to keep a person busy these days
The IK came to eating oxtails late in life, for no other reason than she’d never encountered them, attached to oxen or otherwise. When she finally did see oxtails arranged in the butcher case, she bought them, found them perfectly nice, and that was that. Later, on learning oxtail is considered a variety meat, often not coming from actual oxen, she grew confused. But the IK is permanently confused these days. She is not alone.
You’ll notice this recipe is Asian in nature, what with the soy sauce, rice wine, and star anise. The Chinese, being more advanced in textural matters, adore oxtail.
Note the call for palm sugar. Lacking it, use brown. Either will work. The palm sugar pictured is shaped so because it’s formed in halved coconut shells, a detail the IK found interesting. Palm sugar is hard to crumble by hand–at least, it is around here–but easily broken using a sharp knife. It will dissolve when heated.
The sprinkling of star anise in the photograph is purely for aesthetic purposes: use only one for the recipe, or they’ll take over. Wouldn’t this make a lovely flag? The Republic of Palm Sugar, One Nation Under Star Anise.
It’s been a tough week around here. You have no idea.
The original recipe comes from Jennifer McLagan’s Bones: Recipes, History, and Lore. It calls for orange peel during cooking. But we had no oranges. Somebody home from work, a person who managed to acquire what we’ll call rolling pneumonia (people, he ain’t walking), kind of ate the oranges. Recalling a Diana Henry recipe for pork belly, the IK consulted Plenty. Aha. Henry uses rice vinegar. The IK cautiously added a teaspoon and tasted. Yes. The vinegar toned down an otherwise brassy sauce.
While you can chow down right away, your oxtail will benefit enormously from a nice long rest. If overnight is the best you can manage, that’s great. Two days is ideal.
During this time, the dish will mellow, the ingredients will meld, and the fat will congeal, rising to the top, where you can easily remove it with an implement (if you are civilized), or your fingers (if you are mimicking the rest of society).
While the IK’s oxtail rested in her fridge, she went shopping, returning with some blood oranges. Curious, she followed McLagan’s final recipe instructions, which call for adding the juices of the peeled orange to the oxtail sauce.
Of course, not for nothing is McLagan a recognized cooking authority and all-around genius. The dish transformed: dully brown to brightly fabulous. Nature. It’s a thing. Provided we don’t totally wreck it.
As the orange is so glorious against the brown braise, I suggest serving it at table, so diners can add it themselves. This assumes guests or significant others sober enough to handle such tasks.
If you can find blood oranges, so much the better.
Should inebriation be an issue, add the orange juice in the kitchen. And hide the car keys.
Oxtail cries out for lots and lots of rice. If you are virtuous, you probably stopped reading a long time ago, but spinach, cooked for five seconds, would be nice here, or one of those bagged baby salads (which we all pretend not to buy) with the darker leaves in them.
If oxtails are scarce in your part of town, short ribs work nicely. If you aren’t in the mood for Asian flavors, seek professional help. No, seriously, go the Italian route: make the dish with a 15-ounce can of crushed tomatoes and their juices, some red wine, two or three large garlic cloves, sliced onion, salt, pepper, hot red pepper if you like, and some olive oil. Brown the beef, and cook as below; eat with pasta or good bread.
Keep fighting.
Braised Oxtails
adapted from Jennifer McLagan’s Chinese-Style Oxtail, from Bones: Recipes, History, and Lore
Yield: 2-4 servings, depending on appetite.
easily scaled upward
Cooking time: approximately 3 hours.
Optional 1-2 days presalting time, and optional resting time of 1-3 days after the dish has cooked.
1 1/2 pounds meaty oxtail
1 1/2 teaspoons Maldon salt (if you plan to presalt the oxtail; see instructions, below)
about 1-2 tablespoons peanut or canola oil, for browning
1/2 cup Shaoxing wine (see notes)
1/2 cup dark or regular soy sauce (not “lite”)
about 1 teaspoon palm sugar (use brown sugar if palm sugar is unavailable; see notes)
2 cups water
1 star anise
3 scallions, trimmed and sliced into 2-inch lengths
a piece of ginger, about 1 inch x1 inch, peeled or not, sliced thinly
4 large cloves garlic, peeled and minced
1/8 teaspoon hot red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon rice vinegar
salt and pepper
to finish:
1-2 medium oranges, blood oranges if in season, sliced in segments
If you are pre-salting the oxtail:
1-3 days before cooking, rinse the oxtails in cool water. Pat dry thoroughly with paper towel and place in ceramic or glass dish. I use Maldon sea salt, which is a large-crystal salt. If you are using a finer crystal salt, use about half the amount I do, or the meat will be oversalted. I use a teaspoon of salt per pound of meat, lightly rubbing the salt all over, then covering the meat loosely with foil and refrigerating.
Allow meat to come to room temperature before cooking.
Preheat the oven to 300F.
You’ll need a 4-quart braiser with a lid or the equivalent. If you don’t have a lidded pot, you can cover an oven-safe pot with foil.
Browning the oxtails:
I prefer to brown the meat in a frying pan and move it to the braiser; if your braiser has a sturdy bottom, go ahead and brown in it.
Pour about 1 tablespoon peanut or canola oil in a 10-12 inch frying pan or the braiser. Heat burner to medium high. Add the oxtails; you may need to do this in batches. Brown on all surfaces, cooking 5-7 minutes per side. Watch the heat: you may need to adjust it to avoid burning. If the oil smokes, open a window or turn on the exhaust fan.
I set my braising pot on a burner beside the frying pan, pour in a little peanut oil, on turn the burner on the lowest setting. As each oxtail is browned, set it on a plate–if you are braising in a braiser–or move it from frying pan to braising pot.
Once all the oxtails are browned, pour off any extra fat.
Deglaze the pan or braiser by adding the Shaoxing wine, bringing it to a boil, and scraping with a spatula. This step is the reason I prefer browning in a frying pan–I can scrape without worrying about damaging an enameled surface.
Scrape up all the brown bits from the pan bottom, then add the soy sauce, sugar, water, star anise, ginger, garlic, red pepper flakes, and rice vinegar to the pan. Bring to a simmer. If you are doing this in a frying pan, carefully pour this over your oxtails.
If you are doing this in your braiser, return the oxtails to the pot.
Season the oxtails with salt and pepper, cover with a lid or foil and place in the oven.
It will look like there’s too much liquid. Don’t worry: it will cook down considerably.
After 90 minutes, turn the oxtails over. Cook another 90 minutes, until meat is tender. They’re done when the bones are poking through and braising liquid has reduced and darkened.
It is best to let the dish cool completely, then rest at least overnight, allowing the fat to congeal and be lifted off the top.
To serve: Reheat gently. Offer sliced oranges at the table, or season with fresh orange juice yourself. Serve with rice and plain green salad.
Oxtail improves with time, but don’t keep it refrigerated beyond five days. Freeze, well-wrapped, up to 3 months.
Notes:
If you cannot find Shaoxing wine–sold near soy sauces in regular supermarkets or widely available in Asian markets–use dry sherry.
Palm sugar is available in some supermarkets, Asian markets, and online. It is sold in tubes or rounded cones. Palm sugar is easily broken with a knife and dissolves in cooking. Substitute brown sugar if you can’t find it.
The red pepper is a subtle presence, meant for umami only; leave it out if you wish.
If you don’t have rice vinegar, orange juice or peel works beautifully.
