It looks as though I planned this thing out some, right?
I was not on deck to cook this particular evening. Nor even do the provisioning. The only reason I had stepped foot inside the Rosemont Market on Brighton was to loiter in the wine department and collect a few bottles to go along with my friend Giovani's birthday dinner.
But then I just had to mosey over to the meat counter, just to say hi to Jarrod the butcher.
Next thing you know I had taken possession of all these beautiful specimens. And for no reason other than that I wanted them. There was a mixed pound of duck and sweet Italian sausage, a pound of pork belly, two giant fatty pork chops, half a pound of pork ribs, and a couple duck legs and thighs.
Hey, somebody had to go home with the things!
An hour or so later and I was in my kitchen, hoping that the comforting aroma of a soffritto simmering in the dutch oven might somehow soften the blow of my having hijacked the birthday meal — a blow no doubt felt by my associate, who had been charged with cooking it.
For the record, it did not soften the blow very much. If at all.
The soffritto, by the way, consisted of a leek, four carrots, a large onion, four garlic cloves lightly smashed but left whole, a tablespoon of fresh marjoram, two tablespoons of fresh rosemary, and four sage leaves. After the vegetables and herbs softened a bit, I started browning the meat in batches, as there was too much of it to do so at once.
After all the meats were browned, I removed them, tossed in two cups of white wine and reduced it pretty much all the way down.
Then the meats went back into the dutch oven. Some cannellini and borlotti beans had soaked overnight (for, ahem, another person's purposes, not my own) and so I threw a bunch of them in too, along with eight cups of freshly made chicken stock (also not made by, well, me).
After a good couple of hours in the oven (covered) this mess of meat and beans was ready to go. Except that I am a big believer in such dishes benefiting from a day's rest, and with the birthday dinner scheduled for the following day all was well with my plan.
So well that I was forgiven my indiscretion.
At least for the duration of the meal.