Noah Daniel Feldman was born on Saturday, April 6th, at eleven forty-two in the morning, at White Plains Hospital, weighing seven pounds and nine ounces and already, by David's account, demonstrating a solid set of lungs. My third grandchild. I got the call from David while I was making the Passover brisket marinade — I was elbow-deep in onions and tomatoes when the phone rang and I wiped my hands on my apron and listened to my son say, "Mom, he's here, they're both great," and I sat down on the kitchen floor. Not from distress. From the complete specific joy of it, which sometimes requires a lower vantage point.
I finished the marinade, because the brisket needed to rest, and then I called Rebecca, who already knew because David is efficient with important news. I called Miriam in Tel Aviv, who said, "Tell me everything," and I told her everything I knew, which at that point was his weight and his name and that he had good lungs. Miriam said, "Noah is a good name. Strong." I agreed. Noah: the builder, the preserver, the man who kept the family together when the waters rose. It is a very good name.
I drove to White Plains the next day with the brisket (pre-Passover, Kosher-for-Passover-adjacent enough), a pot of soup, and the rugelach, and I held my grandson for the first time. He has David's nose — definitely David's nose, the Feldman nose, which is the nose of three generations of Feldman accountants and one physician. I sat in the hospital room holding this seven-pound-and-nine-ounce person and I thought about Sylvia, who never got to meet Ethan or Sophie or this new Noah, who would have held each of them and said something that managed to be both critical and loving simultaneously, because that was Sylvia's gift. I thought about what I would give this child. The soup, obviously. The brisket. The rugelach. The Friday challah. The chain.
Marvin came with me. He held Noah and he was completely present for it — clear, focused, the grandfather in full. He said, "Hello, young man." He said it to this newborn as if addressing a small board meeting, which is very Marvin and made David laugh, and then we all laughed, and Noah slept through it, which is the right response to the Feldman family welcoming committee.
There is no brisket recipe I can give you that is not also, in some way, about patience — the long braise, the waiting, the faith that something tough and unlovely at the start will become something tender if you just give it enough time and heat. When I brought food to White Plains that Sunday, it wasn’t about the specific dish so much as the act of arriving with something slow-made and warm, something that had been tended. This venison stew is made the same way — long and low, with root vegetables and a rich broth that deepens the longer you let it go. It is the kind of cooking that asks you to be present and then rewards you for it, which is more or less what the best things in life require.
Venison Stew
Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 2 hours 30 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 55 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 lbs venison stew meat, cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes
- 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 large yellow onion, roughly chopped
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 3 tablespoons tomato paste
- 2 cups dry red wine
- 3 cups beef or venison stock
- 2 bay leaves
- 1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
- 3 medium carrots, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
- 3 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes
- 2 parsnips, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
- 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
- 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
- Fresh parsley, chopped, for serving
Instructions
- Season and sear the venison. Pat the venison cubes dry with paper towels and season generously with salt and pepper. Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy pot over medium-high heat. Working in batches, sear the venison on all sides until deeply browned, about 3–4 minutes per side. Transfer seared meat to a plate and set aside.
- Build the base. Reduce heat to medium and add the remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the pot. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and lightly golden, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute more. Stir in the tomato paste and cook for 2 minutes, letting it caramelize slightly on the bottom of the pot.
- Deglaze and add liquid. Pour in the red wine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot with a wooden spoon. Let the wine reduce by half, about 5 minutes. Stir in the stock, Worcestershire sauce, bay leaves, and thyme. Return the seared venison and any accumulated juices to the pot.
- Braise low and slow. Bring the stew to a gentle simmer, then reduce heat to low. Cover and cook for 1 hour 30 minutes, until the venison is beginning to turn tender.
- Add the vegetables. Stir in the carrots, potatoes, and parsnips. Cover and continue to cook for another 45–60 minutes, until the vegetables are fork-tender and the venison is fully tender and pulling apart at the edges.
- Thicken the broth. In a small bowl, whisk the flour with 3 tablespoons of cold water until smooth. Stir the slurry into the stew and simmer uncovered for 10 minutes, until the broth thickens to a hearty consistency. Remove the bay leaves. Taste and adjust seasoning.
- Serve. Ladle the stew into deep bowls and finish with a generous scattering of fresh parsley. Serve with crusty bread or over egg noodles if desired.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 390 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 610mg