Dinner with the Dead

Hello, friend.

Happy Halloween, All Hallows’ Eve, Samhain, Candy Consumption Day… or whatever you call it.
As for me and my house, we call it The Haunting—the same as every other day, but with something a little more celebratory. And as with all good hauntings, we marked the occasion with a meal worthy of the dead.

We made… (insert spooky voice) Osso Bucco with Saffron Risotto.

The Story Behind the Shanks

As I’ve mentioned before, these recipes appear in two books I know of (and the ghost didn’t correct me): Appetites and Hungry Ghosts. The difference is that Hungry Ghosts offers a story to go with the food—a ghost story, naturally—titled “The Heads.”

The Heads is a story of a young chef adrift after his master’s death. Another chef takes him in, inviting him to his trattoria for dinner—and a job.

He meets the staff, eats Osso Bucco with risotto, and goes to bed. But strange noises wake him in the night. When he investigates, he finds headless bodies in the kitchen. The heads, it turns out, are demon goblins—and, like all goblins, they have a taste for human flesh.

After defeating all but one of the heads, the young chef barely avoids a murder charge while wandering around with it in tow. Then, just when he thinks he’s safe, he’s robbed—and the thief takes the head.

Speaking of robbery, veal (Bourdain’s choice)—at its current price—is not in my budget, nor is it available locally. But Osso Bucco can also be made with beef, so that’s what we’re using today. I stuck with beef stock for the same reason.

I started early in the day—this meal is an exercise in patience and process, including a mid-morning pilgrimage to the local liquor store for a bottle of Italian white wine.

Why Italian, you ask?
So the nonnas don’t haunt you, obviously. I’ve already got one ghost telling me how to cook.

The Long Simmer

Around noon, I dragged out the massive 12-inch sauté pan to brown the beef shanks as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, I fired up the big Dutch oven and started the onions, carrots, celery, and garlic—sautéing until they just began to brown. Then, I poured in the entire bottle of wine and simmered it until reduced by half.

Next, I wandered out to the patio where my rosemary plant lives and gave it a nice trim. That went into the pot along with a bay leaf, a can of hand-crushed tomatoes, half an orange, and the beef stock. Finally, in went the browned beef.

Set it to simmer for three hours. And go do something else.

Get out your Ouija board and commune with the dearly departed, ritually disembowel a pumpkin, or worship at the altars of the Mayan and Aztec chocolate gods—whatever makes your heart happy.

Or maybe just prep your mise en place for the risotto: rice, diced onion, wine, stock, butter, and Parmesan.

The Secret Ingredient

When the Osso Bucco is done, taste and adjust the salt if needed. Mine was perfect, thanks to the rich beef stock—and my secret substitute for demi-glace.

Remember when we made onion soup? I had a lot left over, so I puréed it and froze it in fancy ice cube trays. The umami in that soup was so intense that I knew even a little would enhance other recipes. Two frozen cubes went into this pot. It made all the difference.

Saffron and Stirring

Now, for the risotto.
Start with chicken or vegetable stock and a healthy pinch of saffron threads. To me, the entire $12 bottle looks like one healthy pinch, so I Googled it: 20–30 strands is a “large” pinch.

Did I count them individually? Hell no. They’d have ended up on the floor the second I breathed. Eyeball it and toss them in.

Sauté the onions, then add the rice, half a cup of wine, and begin the slow dance of ladling in simmering stock—one or two at a time, stirring frequently, and waiting until the rice absorb most of the liquid before adding more. By the time you’ve gone through a quart and a half of the stock, the rice should be tender but not mushy.

Add the Parmesan and cold butter and stir violently. With a wooden spoon.
It aerates the risotto and also works wonders for releasing pent-up frustration. Mostly, I was terrified I’d fling it across the kitchen with too much enthusiasm. The dogs would’ve been thrilled. I would’ve cried. The ghost would’ve laughed. As it was, we both held our breath until it was fully whipped.

The Haunting Feast

When the risotto is done, place one shank in a shallow bowl, spoon the risotto alongside, and ladle some of that rich sauce over the top.

Finish with orange zest. Then devour.

Ghostly Reflections

These recipes, like most of Bourdain’s, take more time than effort or skill and yield to-die-for results—an excellent quality, in my estimation.

For next week, I’m thinking of venturing out into new territory. YouTube has been pretty insistent about me watching Mitch Mai’s video where he makes Bourdain’s Steak Tartare. Maybe I’ll take the hint.

And a final note on Hungry Ghosts: remember that the demon head must be separated from the body, or it will keep returning to feed on you.

Words to live by, my friend.

In reverence and rebellion,
Michelle Davis
Your kitchen medium

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