FOOD & DRINK

Why You Should Make Boeuf Bourguignon In Your Backyard

This radical rethink of the recipe for a bistro staple, slow-smoked on a Big Green Egg, infuses the classic with new charisma

Boeuf Bourguignon on the Big Green Egg PHOTO: KATE SEARS FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL, FOOD STYLING BY NORA SINGLEY, PROP STYLING BY SUZIE MYERS

By Aleksandra Crapanzano

April 25, 2019 11:53 a.m. ET

IF THE FIRST RAYS of summer turn our minds to grilling, the lingering chill of April begs for smoking. Slow-smoked meat conjures warmth. It is pampering and nostalgic, even for those of us whose childhoods were decidedly more urban than prairie or outback.

At this time of year, my Big Green Egg calls to me. This combined grill and smoker resembles just that: a big green egg. It is as popular with chefs as it is with home cooks for its sturdiness and ease of use. The egg shape allows smoke to circulate slowly and evenly, distributing flavor and heat in surprisingly consistent and measurable levels. And while there’s a moment to stick dinner in an Instapot and call it a day, I like the ritual of pouring the charcoal into the cavernous ceramic belly of the egg, adding some wood chips, setting a rack of ribs on the grate and closing the egg. After that, it works its magic unattended for several hours. I’ll step outside every so often to check on it, if only because the thin plume of smoke drifting up through the air speaks to me more poetically than my oven ever could.

‘The succulent short ribs were smoked until meltingly tender and infused with the flavor of wood fire.’

Above all this, a single dish at the London restaurant Smokehouse, home to all things stoked and smoked, convinced me that said egg was essential. It was a boeuf bourguignon unlike any I’d had before. Instead of the familiar stew of cubes of beef chuck marinated and cooked in red wine along with pearl onions, sliced mushrooms and lardons of bacon, this dish was deconstructed. Chef Neil Rankin had separated the components to keep the texture and character of each intact.

The mushrooms and bacon were ever so slightly crisped. The onions were transformed, with the addition of Madeira, Cognac and a concentrated broth, into a jus. Showered on top, a gremolata of chopped parsley, lemon zest and garlic cut through the beef’s richness. Instead of adding peeled potatoes to the stew, a typical move that invariably leads to soggy potatoes, the dish came with a scoop of creamy mashed potatoes on the side.

But the real brilliance lay in the way the marbled, succulent short ribs were smoked until meltingly tender and infused with the flavor of wood fire. On a gray night in London it bestowed a profound sense of a well-being.

On any night in Burgundy, however, this unorthodox approach would no doubt be deemed sacrilege. This regional specialty rose to international popularity after appearing in Auguste Escoffier’s seminal cookbook, “Le Guide Culinaire,” in 1903. Traditionally made with Burgundian wine, it’s a bistro staple across France—a classic not to be monkeyed with. “French people hate my version,” Mr. Rankin told me gleefully. His version has been a fixture on the Smokehouse menu since the restaurant opened in 2013, and it remains the best-selling dish.

The idea came to Mr. Rankin when his affinity for rich sauces started to wane. “As my taste became more Scandi and more Asian, I wanted to control how much jus I used. A little goes a long way,” he said. “Likewise, when you put mushrooms in a stew, you get good flavor, but you lose the mushroom. I like to cook mushrooms like a steak, over high heat, getting a caramelized crust on each side. I season them well and serve them medium-rare.”

He developed his own smoking technique, lighting the charcoal at one corner of the egg first, then adding thick wood chips in a spiral to slow their burn. Yet this isn't a fussy dish. “Smoking short ribs is very forgiving,” Mr. Rankin said. “An extra 45 minutes won’t hurt, particularly when using big American grain-fed beef.”

For a British chef, the inclusion of mash, as mashed potatoes are called in the U.K., was apparently mandatory. When I asked him about it, a momentary stunned silence followed. “You’ve got to have mash,” he finally said. And I smiled, knowing it’s easier to rethink foreign cuisines than to question one’s own. Or maybe it’s just that mashed potatoes are too good to ever forgo. Even the French would concur.

QUELLE SURPRISE With slow, even smoking on a Big Green Egg, boeuf bourguignon is reborn. PHOTO: KATE SEARS FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL, FOOD STYLING BY NORA SINGLEY, PROP STYLING BY SUZIE MYERS

Smoked Short-Rib Bourguignon

TOTAL TIME: 5 hours (includes smoking) SERVES: 4

For the short ribs:

2 tablespoons coarse sea salt

2 tablespoons freshly ground black pepper

1 (6-8-pound) rack bone-in beef short ribs 4-6 short ribs)

Grapeseed oil

For the onion jus:

2 tablespoons butter, plus more as needed

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 large onions, sliced

⅔ cup Pinot Noir

⅔ cup Madeira

¼ cup Cognac

1 small bunch fresh thyme

3 bay leaves

5 black peppercorns

5 cloves garlic, crushed

4 cups beef or chicken stock

For the mashed potatoes:

6 medium russet potatoes, peeled

and halved

Fine sea salt

7 tablespoons butter

1 cup heavy cream

White pepper

For the mushrooms and bacon:

¼ cup olive oil, plus more

as needed

12 ounces smoked bacon, cut into batons

6 cloves garlic, roughly chopped

3 sprigs fresh thyme

12 ounces cremini mushrooms,

sliced lengthwise ¼-inch thick

Fine sea salt

For the gremolata:

⅓ cup chopped parsley

Zest of one lemon

1 clove garlic, minced

1. Prepare the short ribs: Preheat smoker to 285 degrees. In a blender, combine coarse sea salt and black pepper. Pulse until texture resembles rough sand. Sprinkle evenly all over short ribs.

2. Place ribs in smoker and cook until temperature on a thermometer inserted at thickest part of meat reads 200 degrees or when beef can be pierced with a skewer with no resistance, about 4 hours. (Larger short ribs may require an additional 45 minutes.) Near the end of smoking, preheat oven to 180 degrees. When ribs are done smoking, cover with foil, transfer to oven and keep warm until needed.

3. Meanwhile make the onion jus: In a large skillet over medium heat, melt butter. Stir in olive oil. Add onions and reduce heat to low. Cover and cook 10 minutes. Uncover and cook, stirring occasionally and adding butter if pan looks dry, until onions deeply caramelize, 30 minutes.

4. Add remaining ingredients to skillet and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to medium to maintain a lively simmer. Cook until liquid is reduced by half, about 20 minutes. Pour through a fine-mesh strainer, and discard solids. Transfer jus to a saucepan and set aside.

5. Make the potatoes: In a large pot, combine potatoes and enough water to cover by several inches. Bring to a boil and heavily season with salt. Reduce heat to medium to maintain a lively simmer. Cook until potatoes can be easily pierced with a knife, 15-20 minutes. Drain and return potatoes to pot.

6. In a small saucepan over low heat, combine butter and cream and cook, stirring to combine, until butter has melted, about 5 minutes. Pass potatoes through a ricer or sieve into a large bowl. Stir in butter-cream mixture. Season with salt and white pepper. Keep warm.

7. Set a large skillet over low heat, and add olive oil and bacon. Cook until bacon has rendered its fat and crisped slightly, about 7 minutes. Stir in garlic and thyme. Transfer bacon mixture to a paper towel-lined plate and set aside.

8. Raise heat to medium-high. Add mushrooms to skillet and cook, stirring, until beginning to brown, about 5 minutes. Season lightly with salt. Return bacon mixture to pan and cook until mushrooms have browned, about 3 minutes. Turn off heat, and leave ingredients in skillet to keep warm.

9. Make the gremolata: In a small bowl, combine ingredients.

10. To serve, bringing jus to a simmer. Slice rack of short ribs into separate ribs. Divide mashed potatoes, ribs and mushrooms among four shallow, warmed bowls. Ladle hot jus over ribs and top with a generous sprinkle of gremolata. Pass remaining jus in a gravy boat.

—Adapted from Neil Rankin of Smokehouse, London