
Chef Joost
Aardappelschotel met Gehakt
A plain name for a quietly clever dish: fresh mince, sweet fried onion, nutmeg, and mashed potato baked until the top goes golden and the table goes silent.
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The name remembers meat over coals, but the Dutch table brought karbonade indoors: a pork chop browned in butter, loosened with oniony jus, and served without ceremony.
In my grandmother's second notebook, the karbonade gets almost no room. Zout, peper, boter, wachten: salt, pepper, butter, wait. That is not poverty of imagination. It is confidence. The Dutch family table has many dishes like this, too ordinary to boast and too useful to disappear, the pork chop you meet in an eetcafe, the cafe that feeds you properly, and at a Sunday table when someone has remembered to make jus.
The name already tells you why this plain little chop is less plain than people think. Karbonade comes through French carbonnade from the old family of carbon, coal, meat once cooked over glowing coals before our damp Dutch kitchens pulled it indoors and gave it a pan of butter. But let me tell you a secret: the fire did not vanish. It moved into the browning. If you rush that first contact with the pan, you get grey pork and a sad puddle, for obvious reasons. If you wait, the butter and meat leave brown bits behind, and those bits become the sauce.
Hou het altijd simpel, always keep it simple. Choose a bone-in rib or loin chop, salt it before it meets the pan, brown it with patience, then finish it with onions and a spoonful of water or stock so the pan gives back what it took. I prefer to keep it a bit more relaxed, in the Dutch way: potatoes, cabbage or endive beside it, and a kuiltje, a little hollow, in the mash for the jus.
Karbonade entered Dutch from French carbonnade, a word tied to carbon and charcoal, originally pointing to meat cooked over coals. By the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Dutch household cookbooks treated karbonade as an ordinary butcher's cut, distinguishing ribkarbonade, haaskarbonade, and schouderkarbonade by where they sat on the pig. The modern Dutch home version keeps the older name but settles the method in the frying pan, where butter, onion, and browned pork juices make the jus.
Quantity
4
1.5 to 2 cm thick
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
40g
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
2 medium
thinly sliced
Quantity
1
Quantity
150ml
Quantity
1 teaspoon
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| bone-in pork chops (ribkarbonades or haaskarbonades)1.5 to 2 cm thick | 4 |
| fine sea salt | 1 teaspoon |
| freshly ground black pepper | 1/2 teaspoon |
| all-purpose flour | 2 tablespoons |
| butter | 40g |
| neutral oil | 1 tablespoon |
| onionsthinly sliced | 2 medium |
| bay leaf | 1 |
| water or light chicken stock | 150ml |
| Dutch mustard (optional) | 1 teaspoon |
Pat the pork chops dry, then season both sides with the salt and pepper. Let them stand at room temperature for 20 minutes while you slice the onions. A cold, wet chop spends its first minutes in the pan recovering from the refrigerator; a dry, lightly salted one browns like it has somewhere to be.
Scatter the flour on a plate and press each chop through it on both sides, shaking off the excess. You want a whisper, not a winter coat. The flour helps the butter catch into a thin crust and later gives the jus a little body.
Heat the butter and oil in a heavy frying pan over medium-high heat until the butter foams and begins to smell nutty. Lay in the chops and brown them for 3 to 4 minutes per side, without poking at them. Turn them only when the underside is deep golden and releases easily. Lift the chops to a plate.
Lower the heat to medium and add the sliced onions and bay leaf to the same pan. Stir them through the browned butter and cook for 6 to 8 minutes until they soften, turn pale gold at the edges, and begin to smell sweet. Do not clean the pan. The brown bits are the inheritance.
Pour in the water or light stock and scrape the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon. Stir in the mustard if you are using it. Return the chops and any juices from the plate to the pan, spoon onions over them, and let everything simmer gently for 6 to 10 minutes, turning once, until the pork reaches 63C in the centre.
Move the chops to a warm plate and let them rest for 5 minutes while the jus bubbles down to a glossy spoonful consistency. Taste the sauce for salt, remove the bay leaf, and spoon the onions and jus over the pork. Serve with boiled potatoes or stamppot, mashed potatoes and vegetables, with a kuiltje, a little hollow, made for the sauce.
1 serving (about 210g)
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