
Chef Thomas
A Proper Roast Chicken
A whole bird rubbed with butter, stuffed with lemon and thyme, roasted until the skin crackles and the kitchen smells like the kind of evening you want to sit down and stay in.
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Created by Chef Thomas
A rolled brisket buried in root vegetables and braised slowly in a covered pot until the meat yields and the kitchen smells like the kind of evening you want to stay in for.
January. The garden is bare and the market stalls are piled with roots: parsnips with mud still on them, carrots the colour of old brick, onions in brown papery skins. This is their moment. You don't fight the season. You cook into it.
Brisket is a thrifty cut, which is one of the things I like most about it. It asks for time, not money. A heavy pot, a low oven, three or four hours of doing nothing while the kitchen fills with a smell that makes the whole house feel warmer. The meat starts tough and reluctant. By the end it barely holds together, falling into soft, savoury shreds at the press of a fork. The vegetables, tucked around and underneath, have soaked up the braising liquid until they're sweet and yielding and taste like they've been thinking about beef all afternoon.
I make this when the evenings are long and cold and I want to put something on the table that feels like an act of care. There are few better feelings than carrying a heavy pot to the table, lifting the lid, and watching the room fill with that deep, beefy warmth. We're only making dinner. But sometimes dinner is the best thing that happens all day.
I wrote it down in the notebook last February: brisket, parsnips, dark stock, rain on the window. That was enough to remember it by.
Quantity
1.5kg
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
2 large
quartered
Quantity
4 medium
peeled and cut into large chunks
Quantity
3 medium
peeled and cut into large chunks
Quantity
1 small
peeled and cut into wedges
Quantity
4 cloves
unpeeled and lightly crushed
Quantity
2
Quantity
a few sprigs
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
250ml
Quantity
500ml
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| rolled beef brisket | 1.5kg |
| beef dripping or olive oil | 2 tablespoons |
| onionsquartered | 2 large |
| carrotspeeled and cut into large chunks | 4 medium |
| parsnipspeeled and cut into large chunks | 3 medium |
| turnippeeled and cut into wedges | 1 small |
| garlicunpeeled and lightly crushed | 4 cloves |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| thyme | a few sprigs |
| plain flour | 1 tablespoon |
| tomato purée | 1 tablespoon |
| red wine or dark ale | 250ml |
| beef stock | 500ml |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | to taste |
Take the brisket out of the fridge a good hour before you start. Cold meat in a hot pan won't brown properly. Set the oven to 150C/130C fan. Season the beef generously with salt and pepper, all over, more than you think. Heat the dripping or oil in a heavy casserole pot, the kind with a lid, over a high heat. When it shimmers and just starts to smoke, lay the brisket in and leave it alone. Don't move it. Let it sit for three or four minutes until the underside has gone a deep, dark brown. Turn and repeat on each side. You're building flavour here, and colour is flavour. Lift the meat out onto a plate.
Turn the heat down to medium. Add the quartered onions to the same pot, cut side down, and let them colour in the beef fat for a few minutes. They should pick up the sticky, dark residue from the bottom of the pan. That's where the flavour lives. When the onions have taken on some colour, stir in the flour and the tomato purée and cook for a minute, stirring it through. It will smell toasty and savoury.
Pour in the wine or ale. It will hiss and bubble. Scrape the bottom of the pot with a wooden spoon to lift all the dark, caramelised bits. Let it reduce by about half, two minutes or so, until it smells rich and less sharp. Add the stock, the bay leaves, the thyme, and the garlic cloves. Bring it to a gentle simmer. The liquid should come about a third of the way up the meat, not cover it. This is a braise, not a stew. The top of the brisket will cook in the trapped heat and steam.
Nestle the brisket back into the pot. Put the lid on, pressing it down firmly, and slide the pot into the oven. Leave it for two hours. Don't open the lid. Don't check on it. Trust the process. A low oven and a heavy lid do the work for you. After two hours, the kitchen will smell like the kind of evening you want to stay in for.
Lift the lid. The meat will have tightened and the liquid will be dark and glossy. Tuck the carrots, parsnips, and turnip around and underneath the brisket, pushing them down into the braising liquid. Put the lid back on and return to the oven for another hour to hour and a half. The vegetables are done when a knife slides through them without resistance. The meat is done when it yields to a fork with barely any pressure, pulling apart in soft, ragged shreds.
Lift the brisket out onto a warm board and let it rest for ten minutes. Fish out the bay leaves and thyme stalks. Taste the braising liquid. Season it. If it's thin, set the pot on the hob over a medium heat and let it reduce for a few minutes until it coats the back of a spoon. Slice the brisket thickly, or pull it apart with two forks if it's past the point of slicing. Arrange it on a warm plate with the vegetables around it and spoon the braising liquid over everything. Serve with mashed potatoes or good bread to soak up the juices. Nothing else is needed.
1 serving (about 450g)
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