Round Steak with Potatoes

Christmas week, the second with Hana. She is eleven months old and she understands lights. Not Christmas, not Santa, not presents — just lights. She points at the tree in the Bellevue living room and says, "Da!" which is her word for everything that sparkles. She points at the lights on Capitol Hill storefronts. She points at headlights. She points at stars, when she can see them through the Seattle clouds. She is a child who notices light. I was a child who noticed light too. Karen tells me I used to stare at the Christmas tree for hours. The staring is genetic, or learned, or both.

Christmas dinner: the usual cast at Karen and David's. Kevin and Lisa, Ming and Wei (their third trip this year; Ming has abandoned all pretense of distance and declared herself "the other grandmother who does not live here yet but might"). James and I and Hana. David made prime rib. Karen supervised. I brought japchae and kimchi and doenjang jjigae. James brought scallion pancakes. Kevin brought Bridge City Roasters and cornbread. Ming brought lu rou fan. The table held everything. The table always holds everything.

Jisoo FaceTimed. She showed us her Christmas dinner — she and Jun-ho, a small Korean meal, candles, quiet. She said, "Merry Christmas, Hana." Hana pointed at the screen and said, "Da!" Jisoo said, "She sees me." I said, "She sees the light. She sees everything that sparkles." Jisoo said, "I sparkle?" I said, "You sparkle, Umma." Jisoo laughed. Jisoo sparkles. Jisoo has always sparkled. The sparkle is what I saw on the first video call, through the tears and the translator and the thirty years of distance. The sparkle is still there.

David pulled me aside after dinner. He said, "Steph. The kitchen." I said, "Almost done." He said, "When you move in — when the kitchen is ready — I want to come cook with you." I stared at him. David has cooked three meals in his entire life before retirement. Now he is asking to cook in my new kitchen. He said, "I've been practicing. I can make — I can make a few things. I want to learn your food." He meant Korean food. He meant: I want to learn the food I should have learned thirty years ago, the food I didn't know to learn, the food my daughter taught herself because I couldn't teach her. He said, "Will you teach me?" I said, "Yes, Dad. I will teach you." He nodded. He went back to the living room. He sat in his chair. He is eighty-one years old and he is asking his daughter to teach him Korean cooking. The learning never stops. The learning is love. David is love. David has always been love, even when the love didn't have the right vocabulary. The vocabulary is expanding. The love was always there.

The recipe this week is tteokguk for New Year's, made early because Christmas and New Year's blur together this year. The soup ages you one year in the Korean count. Hana will be two in Korean age on New Year's Day, though she won't be one in Western age until January 15. She will eat tteokguk. She will eat rice cakes in beef broth. She will be aged. She will be one year closer to the person she is becoming. We all will. The soup sees to it.

When David asked if I’d teach him Korean cooking, I didn’t say yes because I had a perfect lesson planned — I said yes because I understood what he was really asking. He wasn’t asking for a recipe. He was asking to sit across from me in a kitchen and learn something slowly, together. So while I’ll save the doenjang and the fish sauce for when we’re actually standing side by side, I’ve been thinking about beginnings — about the kind of patient, unhurried cooking that teaches you how a kitchen feels before it teaches you techniques. This braised round steak with potatoes is that kind of dish: low heat, long time, the smell of something good becoming better the longer you leave it alone. It’s where I’d start.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 45 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours | Servings: 4–6

Ingredients

2 lbs round steak, cut into 4–6 serving pieces
4 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and quartered
1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
1 cup beef broth
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 teaspoon paprika
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
Salt and black pepper to taste
Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Season the steak. Pat the round steak pieces dry with paper towels. Season generously on both sides with salt, pepper, and paprika.
Sear the beef. Heat vegetable oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Working in batches if needed, sear the steak pieces 3–4 minutes per side until well browned. Transfer to a plate and set aside.
Soften the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium. Add the sliced onion to the same pot and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes until softened. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Build the braise. Pour in the diced tomatoes and beef broth, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Stir in the dried thyme. Return the seared steak pieces to the pot, nestling them into the liquid.
Slow braise. Bring the liquid to a gentle simmer, then reduce heat to low. Cover the pot and cook for 1 hour, turning the steak once halfway through.
Add the potatoes. After 1 hour, tuck the quartered potatoes into the braising liquid around the steak. Cover and continue cooking for 35–45 minutes, until the potatoes are fork-tender and the steak pulls apart easily.
Finish and serve. Taste the braising liquid and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper. Ladle steak and potatoes into shallow bowls with plenty of the braising juices spooned over the top. Garnish with fresh parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Round Steak with Potatoes — The Kitchen Where Learning Becomes Love