osso bucoShanks for the Memories
This article first appeared in the Wine
Spectator.
In golf, a shank is not a good thing. But in cooking, a shank
can be a very good thing indeed. Shanks, or shins, are the fore and (less
often) hind legs from the knee joint to the foot of lamb, pork, veal, and
beef. They make mighty fine eating, especially in bone-chilling weather.
Shanks have “an intense flavor and a soft, silky texture,” write
Bruce Aidells and Denis Kelly in “The Complete Meat Cookbook” (Houghton
Mifflin). When braised, as they almost always are, they provide a rich, satisfying
sauce. Shanks are also great for entertaining because they can be made well
ahead and reheated easily.
“There’s something very primal about shanks. It’s that falling
off the bone thing,” says Tom Valenti, chef of ‘Cesca in New York. “A
lot of people respond to this kind of dish. They don’t immediately respond
to grilled tuna.” If there is a sultan of shanks in New York, it’s
Valenti. In the late 1980s and early 90s he made his reputation at New York
restaurant Alison On Dominick Street with his legendary lamb shanks. At ‘Cesca,
he is featuring pork shanks, which he lovingly braises for 3-1/2 hours before
serving them with roasted vegetables and pastina.
Unlike lamb and veal shanks, fresh pork shanks—not to be confused with
smoked shanks or hocks used to flavor bean soups and hearty greens—are
a relatively new restaurant phenomenon. “It’s common in Germany,
where it is usually spit roasted and served hofbrau house style with mustard,
potatoes, sauerkraut and dumplings,” says David Burke, who introduced
the crackling pork shank at Maloney & Porcelli in 1996 as executive chef
of the Smith & Wollensky Restaurant Group based in New York.
As with the Germans, Burke, who is chef and an owner of Burke and Donatella
in Manhattan, used the larger hind leg shank, which weighs in at a whopping
30 ounces. After making a confit by slowly cooking it in lard, Burke roasted
it. Finally it was deep fried to give that crackling finish and served with
jalapeno-laced applesauce.
Burke’s shank dish is too arduous for most home cooks, even if you
could get the hind shank, which normally goes into hams. The foreleg will
still require a special order. As with lamb and veal shanks, you’ll
want a pork shank somewhere between 16 and 20 ounces.
The most well-known shank dish is osso buco, made with veal shanks. Though
still rustic, osso buco is more delicate, with a silkier texture than shanks
of pork, lamb and beef. It’s also more expensive, though considerably
cheaper (and more flavorful) than a veal chop. I have also made Marcella
Hazan’s veal shanks Trieste style, in which the entire shank is braised.
Though delicious, it doesn’t portion as easily as individual pieces
of osso buco.
Two features of osso buco are the marrow and gremolada. The marrow’s
importance is illustrated by the fact that osso buco literally means, “bone
with a hole.” Classic presentations of osso buco come with a small
fork or knife to scoop out the marrow and spread it on bread. The gremolada
is usually a mixture of finely minced lemon rind, parsley, garlic and anchovy,
which is folded into the dish a few minutes before serving. Valenti pays
homage to the gremolada by transferring the concept to his pork shanks when
he drizzles a garlic-infused parsley puree over the dish.
Because of the nature of the animal, lamb shanks are less squat and uniform
in size than veal or pork shanks. They taper up to a bony point with little
meat on top. Sometimes butchers will “crack” these bones, meaning
they make two vertical cuts about three-fourths through each shank. This
is a good place to put seasonings like a paste of rosemary, garlic, and prosciutto.
While veal shanks are almost always prepared in Italian or French style,
lamb shank dishes can run the length of the Mediterranean from Spain to Syria,
and continue east to India. Since lamb has such a robust flavor, it can hold
up to more intense seasonings such as saffron, cinnamon, and chiles. I’ve
even seen coffee used.
Beef shanks are most often used in stews or stocks, especially in pot-au-feu,
the French boiled beef dish. But they can be wonderful when braised like
other shanks. In fact, my favorite of the shanks I cooked was a braised beef
shank with coconut milk, ginger, and cumin from “The Complete Meat
Cookbook.”
Beef shanks are considerably larger than other shanks, weighing upwards of
two pounds each. So, when serving six (six to eight is the ideal number of
servings for shanks), you’ll need three beef shanks, which will give
you seven or eight ounces of meat per person.
Cooking shanks involves basic braising techniques and five rather simple
stages. It’s even easier if you use just one sauté pan no less
than 12 inches in diameter and 2-1/2 inches deep. First brown the well-seasoned
meat in oil on top of the stove. Valenti doesn’t flour the meat, but
I like the way flour gently thickens the sauce.
Then remove the shanks to a platter, add fresh oil (or butter) to the pan
and sauté a cup of chopped onions, slightly less of chopped carrots
and celery, and a few chopped cloves of garlic until softened.
For stage three, add the liquids and seasonings. For lighter meats like pork
or veal, white wine (about a cup) is used to deglaze the pan. Then chicken
broth - approximately 1-1/2 cups -is added. Use red wine and beef broth for
beef and lamb. For Asian presentations, wine is not normally used. Nor are
tomatoes (a cup or more), which are in most other shank recipes. Add the
seasonings and bring the mixture to a boil.
Thyme and bay leaves are basic to most shank recipes. Rosemary goes well
with lamb and sage with veal. The secret ingredient though (at least for
Mediterranean presentations) is anchovies. A few chopped teaspoons add that
je ne sais qua that will stump even hard-core foodies. In his “Complete
Book of Pork Cooking,” written with Lisa Weiss (HarperCollins), Aidells
seasons his pork shanks with ginger, garlic, cilantro and fermented black
beans. “The Complete Meat Cookbook” goes the Germanic route with
cabbage and caraway.
For the fourth step, return the meat to the pan, cover and cook in the oven
at 325 degrees. Veal will need about two hours, while beef shanks should
cook for about 3-1/2 hours, and pork and lamb somewhere in between. More
important than time is that the meat should be easily pierced with a knife
but not falling apart. For added caramelization, uncover the meat after an
hour of cooking, allowing part of the shanks to be exposed. Turn the shanks
(except beef shanks, which are too large) every half hour to get even color.
To finish the dish, remove the shanks to a warm platter while you skim the
grease from the top of the pan juices and reduce them on top of the stove.
Valenti strains out the vegetables, but I keep them in. If needed, thicken
the sauce with a beurre manié of softened butter mixed with flour.
Valenti thinks a “neutral white puree” is a good foil for most
braised dishes. Osso buco is typically accompanied by risotto. Polenta would
also be good. For lamb, a simple white bean puree is almost de rigeur. I
put a ring of this puree around the inside rim of a large soup plate. The
shank goes in the middle and sauce on top and around. Don’t overdo
it with the sauce. Hearty greens like braised chard, broccoli raab, and mustard
greens give a color and textural contrast.
Rustic wines fit shanks of every persuasion. Côtes du Rhône is
great with lamb. Pork requires an earthy white like older Vouvray, Savennières
or a white Rhône. Veal falls somewhere between pork and lamb, so a
lighter style Tuscan Sangiovese would work. Zinfandel is a good match for
beef, though with that Asian version, an Alsace Gewürztraminer was delightful.
With wonderful wines and succulent meat, you’ll be hitting the green
every time.