The Rest of Us

[Sneakeater]

Last night was cooking as travel.  Tonight was coming home.

Tongue Polonaise, a classic Ashkenazi-American dish, has been a favorite of mine since I was a boy.  It's simmered pickled beef tongue served with a sweet and sour raisin sauce.

I had thought that the best version I've had was the one at the Mill Basin Deli.  I've always thought of that as the one deli in New York where the composed plates are better than the sandwiches.  But in my one post-Lockdown visit there, the Tongue Polonaise was awful.  It was like they'd stopped trying (and with most of their business reduced to pick-ups and deliveries, they very well might have).

I think I can cook rudimentarily now, but not much better.  So believe me that I never expected to say what I'm about to say:  the Tongue Polonaise I made tonight was the best rendition I've ever had, anywhere.

It wasn't totally authentic, to be sure:  some (more than "some", actually) butter found its way into the sauce.  But it was SO GOOD.

I've made tongue before.  But I had never pickled one.  I remember reading Leo Steiner say in an interview in the late '70s that if he cures corned beef for 5 or 6 days, it's fine -- but if he cures it for 12 days, it's heaven.  So you can bet I kept this tongue pickling for two weeks.

Oh.  And the sauce.  Oh.

I had some boiled potatoes on the side.  Slathered with more butter.  And some steamed unfrozen green beans (since this was an Ashkenazic meal, I made sure to steam THE SHIT out of them).  Also with butter.  We're not pretending to be a Kosher deli here.

I don't even know what to say.  I can't believe I can just make this.  (Well, I don't know if you "just" make something that requires more than two weeks' advance planning.)

I formed a conviction at some point that the wine that would really go with Tongue Polonaise is a Trousseau.  It must be the deep similarities between pickled tongue in a sweet and sour raisin sauce and the kinds of things they eat in the Jura.

2017 Lucien Aviet Arbois Trousseau "Caveau de Bacchus"

I was right about the pairing, though.

I think it's that Trousseau has its own sweet-and-sour thing going on.  I noticed it the last time I drank one.

There's also the Trousseau light-but-powered thing.  So it has the thin texture to compliment this ostensibly light dish, but enough hefty flavor to go along with what is actually a quite beefy  cut of meat.

[Sneakeater]

I was going to joke that what with this dish and the rolled beef sandwiches I've taken to eating habitually, I'm really eating as if I were an old Jewish man.

But it then hit me:  I AM an old Jewish man.

[Sneakeater]

Some Jewish food writer -- Joan Nathan or somebody like her -- once quoted her son, in opining on whether the tongue used in a dish like this should be pickled, as saying, "if you could have pickled tongue, why wouldn't you?"

I think that about sums it up.

[Sneakeater]

This bottle is probably the best rendition of Trousseau I've ever had, too.

I can't take any credit for that, though.

[Sneakeater]

Obviously there's tongue left over.  I was thinking of all the different ways I could have it:  lengua tacos; sandwiches on rye; maybe crisped under the broiler and served with a Tuscan green sauce if I were feeling more ambitious than I ever actually feel.

But this dish was so good I'm going to have to repeat it.  It'll be easy to make another batch of the Polanaise sauce.

And I guess it's pretty inevitable what I'm going to drink with it (if I'm right I still have a bottle).

[Sneakeater]

Wait.  I just looked at my Italian Jewish cookbook.  That Tuscan green sauce is super easy.  Barely an inconvenience.

I might have to rethink.

(Now I'm regretting having bought the smallest available beef tongue.)

[joethefoodie]

6 hours ago, Sneakeater said:

Some Jewish food writer -- Joan Nathan or somebody like her -- once quoted her son, in opining on whether the tongue used in a dish like this should be pickled, as saying, "if you could have pickled tongue, why wouldn't you?"

I think that about sums it up.

Perhaps this is the article you remember...

Quote

Ms. Rever still loves tongue, but now she makes sure to slice it before sending it to the table. She cooks only pickled tongue, and only from Wasserman & Lemberger in Baltimore. As her son said, “Who would eat a cucumber when you can eat a great dill pickle?”

https://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/12/dining/12tong.html

[Sneakeater]

THAT'S IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Sneakeater]

Un Posto Italiano's artichoke/smoked scamorza/ricotta/parmigiano ravioli.

You know what?  I've been heating ravioli wrong all my life.  Which is why, when I heat fresh ravioli, I get a lot of exploded dumplings.  But when I bought these, the UPI pasta guy (a real obsessive) made sure to explain to me that you put the pasta in the water, bring the water to a boil, salt it, stir it, and then bring it down to a simmer -- and cook for 8 minutes or so from there.  Oooooohhhhhh.

I sauced the ravioli with a butter sauce with preserved Meyer lemons, peas (to make sure this was DINNER), capers, and scallions (should have been shallots, but I didn't have any shallots).  Why I didn't think to dump some of my wine into the sauce I have no idea.

This would actually have gone very well with that strange Turbiana di Lugana that I had -- but that's all drunk up now.  So I pulled out a bottle of one of its neighbors, which also seemed like it would be a good pairing.  (Whatever problems artichokes are supposed to pose for wine pairings -- and as with eggs and with asparagus, I think those problems are exaggerated -- they melt away when the artichoke is encased in three kinds of cheese.)

2018 Corte Gardoni Greoto

This Custoza from the Veneto is a very well-made wine.  There's nothing particularly special about it -- except for how well-made it is.  You can taste the attention to detail:  everything is where it should be.  All it is is an excellent example of what it  is.  But that's something.

The flowers and tea you taste (and smell) in this wine went down well with the artichokes (and the capers, too).  It's not very acidic, but the citrus in the sauce took care of that element.

[joethefoodie]

7 hours ago, Sneakeater said:

But when I bought these, the UPI pasta guy (a real obsessive) made sure to explain to me that you put the pasta in the water, bring the water to a boil, salt it, stir it, and then bring it down to a simmer -- and cook for 8 minutes or so from there.  Oooooohhhhhh.

Never heard of this.

But any time I cook ravioli, dumplings, tortellini, etc. (be they fresh OR frozen) they never get slammed in boiling water. They get gently poached.

My guess is the UPI pasta guy figures people are gonna put his fresh ravioli into water that is boiling hard, they're gonna fall apart or explode, and his customer is gonna be pissed off.

[mitchells]

Plus 8 minutes on a simmer after bringing it to a boil seems like a long time for fresh ravioli……

[Sneakeater]

I thought so, too.  But you wouldn't want to contradict this guy.  He's quiet -- but he's intense.

[voyager]

But how were the ravioli?

[Sneakeater]

They were very good.

[Sneakeater]

Third (out of four) Andalusian beef cheek.  Better every time.

I thought tonight I'd finish work at a reasonable hour for once.  But then it turned 11:30 -- and I still wasn't done.  I left some writing to do as I drink down the wine.  We'll see how that turns out.  (Maybe I'll have a contest:  which subscriber can guess which two entries were written while finishing the wine?)

It was so late I was going to forgo making a green vegetable.  But that would go against everything I stand for.

Anyway, I've now perfected the blistered unfrozen green beans with toasted garlic dish:  a perfect Spanish side dish.  (NOBODY could stop the not-yet-unfrozen beans from causing a massive splatter when they hit the hot hot olive oil, though.)

OK, enough with the Tempranillo.  Although it's not Spanish, wouldn't Grenache/Syrah/Carignan work?  (Anyway, Grenache originated in Spain.)

2016 Domaine Saint-Amant Grangeneuve

This Beaumes-de-Venise drinks a bit lighter than its cépage might suggest.  Oh wait, I see why:  there's also some Viognier in there!

Which makes it a less than perfect as a partner for stewed beef cheek.  But makes the post-prandial quaff a bit more pleasant.

For its fairly modest price (yeah yeah the low $20s are now "fairly modest"), this wine shows very well.  It's perfumed (the Viognier!).  It has some stuffing -- but it's elegant (surprisingly so for the price).  Grenache and Syrah are good partners because they have complimentary strengths:  Grenache brings friendly fruit, and Syrah brings brooding grip.

Like last night's wine, this isn't a stunner, the way the Trousseau I had a few nights ago was.  It's just very very solid.  It's Tuesday:  that's more than enough.