Pot-au-Feu (Boiled Beef and Vegetables)

Variations

• Potée: the country version, with pork and sausage instead of beef and cabbage in the pot. Auvergne and Lorraine have the famous ones; it is much richer and fattier.
• Pot-au-feu royal: chicken or duck added alongside for a deeper broth, for formal occasions.
• Japanese potofu: sausage, bacon, cabbage and broccoli in consommé — an entirely separate dish that kept the name. Neither the meat nor the vegetables are the French ones.
• The leftover broth is the next dish: strained, it is bouillon, and it is exactly the base of French onion soup. In a risotto or a braise it is nothing like water.
• What to do with the leftover meat: shredded under a cap of potato purée and browned, it is hachis parmentier (see mashed potatoes). Chilled, sliced thin and dressed with shallot, vinegar and oil, it is salade de bœuf.
• The same idea elsewhere: seolleongtang runs in the opposite direction, boiling bones hard on purpose until the broth turns milky-white, while samgyetang and suyuk share the habit of dipping boiled meat in a condiment. Irish stew keeps everything in one thickened pot, and svíčková puts a cream sauce over boiled beef.
• Its place in France: if bouillabaisse is the southern fish version of serving broth and solids separately, pot-au-feu is the beef one. Carottes râpées or gratin dauphinois are common alongside.

Tips

• Start in cold water — and know what that gives up. Rising slowly from cold, the soluble compounds in the meat move into the water and the broth gets good while the meat itself gets duller. Dropped into boiling water it goes the other way. Pot-au-feu serves the broth as its first course, so it takes the first path and compensates by using three cuts at once: short rib for the broth, chuck to eat, shin for gelatine (stocks and broth, braising, collagen and time).
• Never let it boil. A rolling boil shatters the fat into droplets that emulsify into the liquid, and a broth clouded that way cannot be brought back. Holding it at a shiver for three hours is the entire technique (heat control).
• All the scum comes up in the first fifteen minutes. Not lifted then, it disperses into the broth. There is no method here other than standing at the pot until it reaches temperature.
• Cook the potatoes separately, always. This one step decides the broth. Their starch undoes three hours of clarity in ten minutes. Ladle out some broth and cook them in another pan and you get the flavour and keep the pot (potato).
• Vegetables big, and late. Nothing survives three hours. They go in for the last 45 minutes in large pieces, and the leeks want tying with string or they come apart (knife skills).
• Marrow bones for the last twenty minutes. Marrow is fat and simply melts away over a long simmer, leaving empty bones. It has to still be in there to scoop out.
• Go light on salt at the start. Three hours of reduction concentrates whatever you put in. A tablespoon early, then taste and adjust the broth at the end (salt and seasoning).
• The cleanest way to degrease is to chill it. Cooked a day ahead and refrigerated, the fat sets into a sheet you lift off whole. It also tastes better on the second day, so cooking ahead is the better plan for guests.
• Do not press it through the sieve. Pushing with a ladle drives fine solids through and clouds what you just strained. Let it drain on its own.
• Slice the meat across the grain. Three hours of simmering will not save you from cutting it the wrong way (cooking meat and resting).
• The condiments go on the table. Dijon, cornichons, coarse salt. The broth is deliberately not seasoned hard, so those three finish it; put on in the kitchen, that structure collapses.
• Serving it as two courses is the form. Broth first, then meat and vegetables. All in one bowl it is simply a stew, and the reason for three hours of clear broth disappears (serving temperature).