
Chef Thomas
Beef and Ale Stew
Braising steak surrendered to dark ale and slow time, with onions and mushrooms, until the gravy turns thick and malty and the kitchen smells like the kind of evening you want to stay in for.
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Created by Chef Thomas
Mixed mushrooms browned hard and braised slowly in dark ale with thyme and onions until the kitchen smells like the kind of evening you want to stay in for.
November rain on the window. The clocks have gone back and it's dark by five. This is the stew for that.
I brought a paper bag of mixed mushrooms home from the market last Saturday: chestnut, a few portobellos, some shiitake, and a small clutch of wild ones the stallholder hadn't got around to pricing yet. I had a bottle of porter in the cupboard, half an idea, and the kind of evening where turning the oven on felt like the right thing to do. The mushrooms went into a hot pan and the kitchen filled with that deep, earthy smell that only properly browned mushrooms give you. Then the onions, slow and sweet. Then the ale, which hissed and bubbled and turned everything the colour of a good gravy.
People think a vegetarian stew has to apologise for itself. This one doesn't. The mushrooms, browned well, have a savouriness that stands shoulder to shoulder with beef. The dark ale gives body and bitterness. The thyme ties it together. I wrote it down in the notebook: "Mushroom stew. Porter. Thursday. Rain. As good as anything with meat in it." I still think that's true.
A recipe is a conversation, not a contract. Use whatever mushrooms look best. If you can only get chestnut, buy more of them. If you find something wild, use less of everything else and let them lead. The market decides. Your kitchen, your rules.
Quantity
600g
torn or thickly sliced (chestnut, portobello, shiitake, wild if available)
Quantity
2 large
halved and thickly sliced
Quantity
3 cloves
sliced
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
330ml bottle
porter or stout
Quantity
400ml
Quantity
a few sprigs
Quantity
2
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 tablespoon
vegetarian if preferred
Quantity
30g
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
a handful
roughly chopped
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| mixed mushroomstorn or thickly sliced (chestnut, portobello, shiitake, wild if available) | 600g |
| onionshalved and thickly sliced | 2 large |
| garlicsliced | 3 cloves |
| plain flour | 2 tablespoons |
| dark aleporter or stout | 330ml bottle |
| vegetable stock | 400ml |
| fresh thyme | a few sprigs |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| tomato purée | 1 tablespoon |
| Worcestershire saucevegetarian if preferred | 1 tablespoon |
| unsalted butter | 30g |
| olive oil | 2 tablespoons |
| Dijon mustard | 1 teaspoon |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | to taste |
| flat-leaf parsley (optional)roughly chopped | a handful |
This is the step that makes the stew. Heat a generous splash of olive oil in a wide, heavy pan over a high heat. When the oil shimmers, add the mushrooms in a single layer. Don't crowd them. You may need to do this in two batches, and you should. Mushrooms piled on top of each other steam rather than brown, and steamed mushrooms taste of nothing. Leave them alone for three or four minutes until the edges go deeply golden, almost charred in places, and the kitchen starts to smell earthy and rich. Turn them and do the same on the other side. Set them aside in a bowl.
Turn the heat down to medium. Add the butter to the same pan. When it foams, add the onions and a good pinch of salt. Cook them slowly, stirring now and then, until they soften and turn sweet and golden. This takes a solid ten minutes, sometimes more. Don't rush it. The sweetness of the onions balances the bitterness of the ale later, and that balance is the backbone of the whole stew. Add the garlic for the last minute or two, just until it smells warm and fragrant.
Stir the tomato purée into the onions and let it cook for a minute until it darkens slightly. Scatter in the flour and stir it through so everything is coated. It will look a bit pasty. That's fine. It thickens the stew without you noticing later. Pour in the ale. It will hiss and bubble. Stir well, scraping up anything stuck to the bottom of the pan. Those dark, caramelised bits are flavour you've earned. Let the ale simmer for a couple of minutes, then add the stock, the thyme, the bay leaves, and the mustard.
Return the browned mushrooms and any juices from the bowl to the pan. Stir in the Worcestershire sauce. Bring everything to a gentle simmer, then turn the heat to low. Put a lid on, slightly ajar, and let it bubble very quietly for thirty to forty minutes. You're not cooking the mushrooms through (they were done in the first step), you're letting everything get to know each other. The liquid will reduce and thicken into something dark and glossy and deeply savoury. Stir it once or twice. Trust your nose. When it smells like a proper pub stew, the kind that would make someone cross a room, it's ready.
Fish out the bay leaves and thyme stalks. Season with salt and pepper. Taste it. If it needs sharpness, a small splash more Worcestershire sauce. If it needs depth, another minute on the heat. Ladle it into warm bowls, scatter the parsley over the top, and serve with something to mop up the gravy: mashed potatoes, crusty bread, or a baked potato split open and waiting. There are few better feelings than putting a warm plate in front of someone on a cold evening and watching them reach for the bread before you've sat down.
1 serving (about 370g)
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