My Mom’s Tomato Curry Oxtail Stew

When we were kids, my folks used to take us up to the snow for skiing weekends. I never much looked forward to those cold days–to socializing in mandatory kids’ activities, to the pinching in my feet from rigid ski boots, and worst of all, to the bitter chill. Why would anyone submit themselves to the cold? I always wondered from underneath my bundled layers.

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My favorite part of those trips came at the end of the day, when my parents collected us from the mountain. Nighttime meant a merciful break from wobbling down the slopes and having to pass the day with other swaddled up strangers. Nighttime also meant cozytime. Before heading back to the motel for the evening, my folks would stop off at a 7-Eleven and let us each pick out a microwave dinner of our choice before we all returned to the room to feast together. Eating a steaming burrito or Salisbury steak TV dinner in my lap was always the best part of the trip.

A few days ago we headed up to Idyllwild for what turned out to be the grownup equivalent of relishing that microwaved chicken burrito over and over again, for an entire weekend.

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If you’re going to go to the cold–spoken like a true Californian, I realize–cozy is the way to go. I know now the key to snowy retreats is to spend just enough time outdoors before the chill hits your bones, and then get back indoors to warm up. Socks, layered sweaters, breakfast potatoes, crisper drawers full of beer, lovely company, long candlelit dinners, music playing all weekend long, glasses of riesling by the fireplace, and oxtail stew. Oxtail stew!

Kevin and I cooked Friday night–stew, polenta, roasted cauliflower and a bright green salad. Thank goodness for a patient and generous crowd of eaters. And I think I’ve got my mom’s recipe down well enough to share. What follows is a blend of my mom’s words with my notes, which is to say, with some attempt at actual measurements. As with all stews, the leftovers just get better and better in the following days. I have also preserved her immortal line. You’ll know it when you get to it.

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My Mom’s Tomato Curry Oxtail Stew
Serves 3-4. Best with steamed white rice or polenta.

2 pounds oxtail
½ cup of flour
1 onion, roughly chopped
1 14.5 oz. can of diced tomatoes
Japanese curry blocks, at your desired spice level
Ketchup
2 bay leaves
3 carrots, chopped into 1-inch pieces
1 russet potato, washed and chopped in 1-inch pieces

1. Rinse the oxtails and pat dry with a paper towel. Dust lightly with flour and shake off excess.
2. Heat oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot and brown the meat on all sides at medium heat. Salt and pepper. Throw in chopped onion to sweat alongside the meat.
3. Once meat is browned, about 4-5 minutes later, throw in 1-3 cubed blocks of curry depending on how much meat you use and how intensely flavored you like your curry. Add diced tomatoes and a cup or two of water or broth. At this point I squeeze in an unknown amount of ketchup. Add in bay leaves.
4. Let the broth come to a boil, and cook on medium-low heat for 45 minutes, then reduce to a simmer and cook for 2-3 hours. Stir occasionally, in particular to make sure that nothing is sticking to the bottom of the pot. If so, lower heat.
5. In the last half hour of cooking, throw in potatoes and carrots. Serve when the vegetables are fork tender.

Back in the Kitchen

After several hectic months that left me with little kitchen energy, I found vast reserves of it last night. I’ve been out of sorts and no good for more than fried eggs and sauteed greens lately. Last night as I was moving around the kitchen I felt myself coming back to life. 

First up was an attempt at making my mom’s tomato curry oxtail stew. I thought it’d take somewhere along the lines of an hour and a half, based on my mom’s hazy emailed recipe (which included the line: “At this point I squeeze in an unknown amount of ketchup.”) Hers is a perfectly composed affair–fall off the bone meat in a cozy curry sauce that absolutely demands rice to soak up that gravy. Mine turned out fine, though I burned, er caramelized, the bottom of the stew a few times in my impatience. Low and slow are my mother’s eternal cooking directions. Next time I know: three hours. 

In that waiting time I got to try out a crab meat, cucumber, vermicelli salad. The dressing is super light: rice wine vinegar, sugar, lime juice, fish sauce, a few drops of sesame oil. (That’s basically the entire recipe.) I found it in one of my favorite cookbooks, a series of slim 5×7 bilingual cookbooks by Harumi Kurihara (the “Martha Stewart of Japan”) I picked up at Kinokuniya. Light, refreshing, with a gentle brightness and no pungent tang. Please excuse the fish sauce-stained kitchen table.

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And after all the cleanup was done, we turned on Sleepless in Seattle–Kevin lasted all of 18 minutes before he begged off it–and I made this pound cake via xobreakfast with yams I’d roasted earlier in the day. Bridal shower soon means it’s recipe testing time, plus I was just plain curious. It was 1:30am by the time I got that glaze on, and collapsed into bed a sweaty, sore, very alive mess.

Here’s the breakfast shot (that large hole thanks to my improvised chopstick-cake tester). It’s a true pound cake, but moist and not too sweet, and just about requires a cup of tea or coffee on the side. Perfect to share with book club tonight.

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So nice to be back!