Corned Beef -- The Archive of Love, Slow-Braised and Brought in Abundance

Two months until retirement. The countdown is real now — visible, tangible, the number of remaining teaching days small enough to count on two hands. I am feeling everything simultaneously: relief that the dual burden of teaching and caregiving will be halved, grief that the teaching is ending, excitement about the book, terror about the book, gratitude for forty-two years, sadness about forty-two years being over, and the specific, complicated, uniquely Ruth-Feldman emotion that I can only describe as: I am putting down one heavy thing so I can pick up another heavy thing, and the putting-down and the picking-up are happening at the same time, and I am not sure which hand goes where.

I made a dinner for the support group this week — Sandra's group, the caregivers. I brought food: brisket, of course, and challah, and the rugelach, and Sandra said, "Ruth, you always bring enough food for thirty people," and I said, "There are twelve of us," and Sandra said, "And enough food for thirty," and I said, "Yes." Because the excess is the love. Because the surplus is the point. Because bringing exactly enough food is not enough; you bring more than enough, because "more than enough" is the Jewish grandmother's love language, and I will not be translated.

Doris, from the group, whose husband has Lewy body dementia, told me something this week that I will keep: "The hardest part is not the forgetting. The hardest part is remembering for both of you." She's right. I remember for both of us now — the dates, the names, the stories, the history of our life. I am the archive. I am the backup drive. I am the woman who remembers that we had our first date at a Chinese restaurant in Queens and that Marvin wore a blue tie and that the fortune cookie said "You will find happiness in an unexpected place" and that the unexpected place was each other. I remember. He does not. The remembering is my job now. I accept the assignment. I have the qualifications.

The brisket was the anchor of the meal I brought to Sandra’s group, but it’s the corned beef — sliced thick, braised low and slow until it practically sighs — that I keep coming back to in weeks like this one. There is something about a cut of meat that requires patience and time, that asks you to stay close and tend it, that feels right when you are also in the business of tending. I make enough for thirty even when there are twelve, because the corned beef, like the remembering, should never run out.

Corned Beef

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 3 hours 30 minutes | Total Time: 3 hours 45 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 4 lbs flat-cut corned beef brisket, with spice packet
• 1 large yellow onion, quartered
• 4 cloves garlic, smashed
• 3 stalks celery, cut into thirds
• 3 medium carrots, peeled and cut into large chunks
• 2 bay leaves
• 1 tablespoon whole black peppercorns
• 1 teaspoon mustard seeds
• 1 bottle (12 oz) dark beer or 1 1/2 cups low-sodium beef broth
• Water, enough to cover the brisket by 1 inch
• 2 tablespoons whole-grain or brown mustard, for serving

Instructions

1. Rinse and prep. Remove the corned beef from its packaging and rinse it well under cold water to remove excess brine. Pat dry with paper towels.
2. Build the braise. Place the corned beef fat-side up in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot. Scatter the onion, garlic, celery, and carrots around the meat. Add the bay leaves, peppercorns, mustard seeds, and the included spice packet.
3. Add liquid. Pour the dark beer (or beef broth) over the meat, then add enough cold water to submerge the brisket by at least 1 inch. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, skimming any foam that rises to the surface.
4. Slow braise. Reduce the heat to low, cover tightly, and simmer gently for 3 to 3 1/2 hours, or until the meat is fork-tender and yields easily when pierced. Check occasionally and add water as needed to keep the meat submerged.
5. Rest and slice. Transfer the corned beef to a cutting board and tent loosely with foil. Let rest for 15 minutes. Slice against the grain into 1/4-inch thick slices.
6. Serve. Arrange on a platter with the braised carrots and serve alongside whole-grain mustard, challah, or rye bread. Ladle a little of the braising liquid over the slices to keep them moist.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 410 | Protein: 32g | Fat: 28g | Carbs: 5g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 1380mg