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Mainly Mushroom Beef Carbonnade -- A Quiet Table for One, Cooked with Care

Easter Sunday and no family at the table. That's the plain fact of it. In ordinary years there would have been eight or ten of us — Sarah and Jim and the boys, sometimes Jim's parents, my sister Carol from Burlington if the roads cooperated. Helen would have started the lamb two days before, marinating it overnight in rosemary and garlic, the whole house taking on that smell that means spring and renewal and all the things Easter is supposed to be about.

I made the lamb anyway. Not the full leg — I found a couple of shoulder chops in the freezer, the last of what the Hendersons sold me back in November from their flock. I made a small pan with potatoes and olives, the way Helen did it but scaled to one. It was a genuine effort, not a gesture. I ate at the dining room table rather than the kitchen counter, which for a man alone is a choice with some weight to it.

Sarah and I did a video call over dinner. She propped her phone against the fruit bowl and I could see Jim and Teddy and little Finn eating at their table while I ate at mine. We talked about nothing in particular — Teddy's school Zoom calls, the lamb, whether the rhubarb was coming up yet. It was awkward in the way that all screen meals are awkward, but it was also something. I could see Finn's hair getting long and curly the way Teddy's did at that age.

After dinner I walked the property in the last of the late light. The rhubarb was coming up, as it happens — bright red stalks pushing through the cold ground. Some things just insist on happening regardless of circumstances. I'll take that as a kind of answer.

The lamb I made that Easter was modest —shoulder chops, a small pan, potatoes —but the care that went into it was not. That’s really what I was after: not the spectacle of a full leg on a platter, but the act of making something that deserved the dining room table. This beef carbonnade carries exactly that quality. It’s a slow, honest braise —beer and mushrooms doing quiet, serious work over a couple of hours —and it rewards the kind of deliberate attention you give a meal when you’ve decided it matters, even if you’re the only one eating it.

Mainly Mushroom Beef Carbonnade

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 2 hours 15 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 40 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 2 lbs beef chuck, cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes
  • 1 lb cremini mushrooms, thickly sliced
  • 2 medium yellow onions, thinly sliced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 1/2 cups dark Belgian ale or brown ale
  • 1 cup low-sodium beef broth
  • 2 tablespoons tomato paste
  • 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
  • 1 tablespoon dark brown sugar
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 3 sprigs fresh thyme
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • Fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped, for serving
  • Crusty bread or egg noodles, for serving

Instructions

  1. Brown the beef. Pat beef cubes thoroughly dry with paper towels and season all over with salt and pepper. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat until shimmering. Working in two batches to avoid crowding, sear the beef on all sides until a deep brown crust forms, about 3–4 minutes per side. Transfer to a plate and set aside.
  2. Cook the onions. Reduce heat to medium. Add the butter and remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the pot. Add the sliced onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and turning golden, about 12 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
  3. Build the base. Stir in the tomato paste and cook for 2 minutes, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Sprinkle the flour over the onions and stir to coat evenly, cooking for another minute.
  4. Add liquids and aromatics. Pour in the beer and beef broth, stirring to incorporate. Add the Dijon mustard, brown sugar, thyme sprigs, and bay leaves. Bring to a gentle simmer.
  5. Braise the beef. Return the seared beef and any accumulated juices to the pot. The liquid should come about halfway up the meat; add a splash more broth if needed. Cover with the lid slightly ajar and braise over low heat for 1 hour 30 minutes.
  6. Add the mushrooms. Stir in the sliced mushrooms, pressing them gently into the braising liquid. Replace the lid and continue cooking for another 30 minutes, until the beef is fork-tender and the mushrooms have absorbed the flavors of the braise.
  7. Finish and serve. Remove and discard the thyme sprigs and bay leaves. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper. The sauce should be rich and slightly thickened; if it seems too thin, simmer uncovered for 5–10 minutes more. Ladle over egg noodles or serve alongside crusty bread, and scatter fresh parsley over the top.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 20g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 540mg

Walter Bergstrom
About the cook who shared this
Walter Bergstrom
Week 213 of Walter’s 30-year story · Burlington, Vermont
Walt is a seventy-three-year-old retired high school history teacher from Burlington, Vermont — a Vietnam veteran, a widower, and a grandfather of five who cooks New England comfort food in the same kitchen where his wife Margaret made bread every Saturday for forty years. He lost Margaret to a stroke in 2021, and now he bakes her bread himself, not because he's good at it but because the smell fills the house and for an hour she's still there.

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