Familiar Flavors Warm the Heart

In the darkened room of the big old house, someone holds me up. “Look,” they say. I peer out of the large window into the dark summer night. ”Look down,” they say. My eyes drop toward the ground. There, campfire flames rise and fall, scattering shimmering sparks into the air. Circled around them, faces blink in and out of the firelight. The sound of singing rises towards me but most of the words hover over the fire. I watch silently. It looks magical and mysterious. Someone sets me down. I’m old enough to know that I need to return to bed and that I’m too young to join the circle below. As I fall asleep, I imagine my older self, sitting by the fire, my backside feeling the encroaching chill, my front toasty warm, my voice lifted in song.

That big old house was known as the “Château”. Located in a small village in Belgium, it’s where I spent the first seven years of my life. It was a large, somber looking brick house but if you knocked on the imposing front doors or peeked around the back, you would know immediately that it was full of life. In the summer, my parents hosted youth camps there and that’s when the night campfires happened.

 My mother ran the house since my father, often away with meetings, was usually busy with his pastoral work. She welcomed and cooked and cleaned for many guests and visitors over those years, as well as keeping track of my siblings and me. Luckily, she had help. Madame Andrée was a short, tidy woman who helped out with the cleaning and cooking. I remember her welcoming me home after school and the smell of good things cooking in the kitchen. One of the traditional foods she cooked was a beef stew, pungent with onions. To this day, I love the smell of onions frying in butter, giving off the scent of caramel as they turn brown.

Later, my friend and mentor Annie showed me her version of the stew. I had returned to my hometown and she asked me what food I craved. “Carbonades Flamandes? Let’s make them.” In her light filled and organized kitchen, where every tool you might need lay right at hand, she walked me through the recipe. “You always put a slice of bread slathered in mustard on the bottom of the Dutch oven,” she started. Then together, we cut and fried the meat bought at the local butcher, cried as we sliced the onions and then cooked them until they were coated in a nice brown color. She pulled a beer bottle from the case in the basement, added spices, and as the meat simmered, we sat and talked about life. Her questions helped me to process my journey and her generosity, kindness and honesty modeled a life well lived.

As we ate the stew at her table alongside a heaping bowl of parsleyed new potatoes, she still pointed out a cooking tip or two. I soaked in the wonderful flavors that mix so well in this dish. And we shared the joy of cooking and eating together that remains in my mind until this day. As we served it to friends recently, I heard Jacque say, “It’s such a familiar flavor.” For those of us who grew up with it, it warms our hearts. And it’s the perfect meal as fall comes around.

Carbonades Flamandes (Flemish Beef Stew)

2 pounds beef chuck, or stewing meat, cut into 2 inch cubes

1 slice of hearty wheat bread, slathered in stone ground mustard

⅓ c. flour

½ t. fresh black pepper

1 t. salt

½ stick of butter

1 large onion, thinly sliced

4 shallots, thinly sliced

1 bottle of Belgian beer

2 or 3 sprigs of fresh thyme

1 bay leaf

2 t. brown sugar

2 t. red wine vinegar

Place the bread slathered in mustard in the bottom of a heavy Dutch oven. Mix the flour, pepper and salt in a shallow bowl. Toss the meat in the flour mixture until well coated. In a frying pan, melt 1 T. butter until hot. In batches, sauté the meat over medium heat until nicely brown on all sides. Add butter, if necessary. Remove meat to the Dutch oven.

Add remaining butter to the frying pan. Add onions and shallots. Cook, stirring occasionally, until nicely browned, about 15 minutes. Add to the Dutch oven. Deglaze the skillet with a little beer. Pour into the Dutch oven along with the remainder of the beer. Add thyme and bay leaf. 

Simmer, covered, on low heat until meat is very tender, about 2 hours. Before serving, add the brown sugar and vinegar. Simmer for 5 more minutes. Serve with boiled parsleyed potatoes or French fries. Serves 6. (Leftovers are delicious!)