Being married on Valentine’s Day in a wonderful thing. Marvelous, even miraculous, and intensely reassuring. It’s also monotonous. There is no face I’d rather see one pillow over when I open my eyes than Mr. English’s, but at the same time, after eight years, Valentine’s has kind of fallen by the wayside. Anniversaries. Holidays. Birthdays. We do them to the extreme. But Valentine’s? It kind of feels like it’s for new love. For falling, tumbling head over heels. We’ve already tumbled. I think we’re on the outside of Valentine’s Day.
While I am not the kind of girl to fall in love with a new man every month, I am the type to fall in love with new things. This year, I discovered and loved the western wine regions of Germany, perfectly stepped into the hillsides with gorgeous Germanic precision. Snowshoeing, which I did for the first time after a snowstorm in Vermont. It felt like trouping through Narnia! Maman’s cavapoo Beau. And caraway seeds.
I remember caraway seeds from Jewish deli rye, perfect on a grilled Swiss or with the tuna salad I used to order on 57th Street. But outside of that little ecosystem, I never saw it. Then, at my best friends’ joint bachelorette in Miami, we went to The Dutch for dinner, where they served beef short ribs with caraway. What a revelation! I was overcome by the aroma of them, cutting through the richness of the meat with a kind of licorice exoticism. Then, I started seeing them everywhere. In slaws in Bon Appetit magazine. In my favorite Ottolenghi recipe for salmon, similar to Meme’s famous Moroccan rendition. In potato salad served with cod on Shelter Island. Now I use them everywhere. It’s the rare jar of spice that I might actually buy and finish in the same year.
This dish is a kind of hybrid between that dinner at the Dutch and a pot-au-feu I had in St. Germain about two years ago in Paris. It’s a combination of richly stewed beef, simmered to oblivion, and a fresh, crunchy, bright celery-spiked salad. Like at the Dutch, I crust the meat in caraway. But then, I take on some French inspiration by stewing it in wine with onion, garlic, thyme, and bay, and then serving it with a kind of upside-down pot-au-feu slaw. Instead of stewing the vegetables with the meat, I turn them into a fresh salad, using grated celeriac and fresh celery leaves, chopped with cornichons and parsley, and tossed in a dressing of creme fraiche and whole grain mustard. Served with grilled bread, it is so good.
Bon app! I hope you fall in love with many things this year.
