An Ode to The Beef Cheek

Written on a Sunday evening with a generous glass of Nero D’Avola from Cantine Colosi in hand.

I’m back to you a lot later than I thought I would be. Who knew January would be quite so busy? The festive period was spent with the gas burning Rangemaster firing approximately 80% of the time and I’m not complaining. Aside from delivering another successful Christmas dinner (the first hosted in our home), plates of slow cooked chicken tinga tacos with spiked pineapple salsa and the famous guacamole were served as part of our Neighbours Come Dine With Me evening - a joyous gathering where starters were served at number 62, mains at number 60 and dessert just one road away. I wholeheartedly recommend an evening of this nature if you’re as lucky as us to have neighbours like ours. 

Anyway, onto the business of today - the beef cheek. Written on a Sunday evening with a generous glass of Nero D’Avola from Cantine Colosi in hand. I’ll admit a 14% ABV red during a month of moderation is somewhat of a rogue choice but stay with me as I rationalise my choices…

There’s just something about going to the butchers. A good one. The fantastical window displays that make Marty (our scruffy, always cute, often smelly Jackapoo) lick his lips at the sight - the rolled pork loins plump and juicy, the minted lamb chops begging to be grilled and the partridges covered in streaky bacon. Did we choose our house based on being equidistant between a Ginger Pig and Macken Brothers? No. Do we feel blessed that it ended up that way? Yes. Particularly over the past few years.

During the lockdowns of 2020, there was something quite magical about the queues that formed along Turnham Green Terrace. The butchers, the fishmongers, the greengrocers and the deli, all with long lines of hungry amateur cooks on a quest to fill their baskets with fresh produce. To make dishes at home that would melt away the trauma of the world. The whole neighborhood out in force at the weekend, divided by 2m but united in their quest for flavour. Luckily we no longer need to keep our distance, but the passion for flavour within the walls of those little establishments remains.

The cold snap and crisp air this week called for something meaty and slow-cooked. Ideally a perfect companion to buttery mash and iron-filled green veg. It’s been a little while since I reached for the beef cheeks but it felt like the perfect time. So off to Macken Bros I went, Marty tugging at the lead and attempting to chase every pigeon in his eye line.

One thing to note about beef cheeks is that they are particularly affordable. Normally when I visit Macken Bros it’s for a giant TBone steak and depending on how many people I’m cooking for, I can often leave with an achy shoulder from the weight and a teary eye from the price. When it comes to picking up three beef cheeks however, only the achy shoulder is in play. And the best part is that Damian will happily prep them for you, sinews perfectly removed, so all that’s left to do is cook them low and slow.

An attempt to remember how I make them:

BEEF CHEEKS IN RED WINE

For 2 people, but with intentional leftovers for a second meal (my favourite way to use the leftovers is included below)

3 beef cheeks

Carrots

Celery

Shallots (I prefer the big banana ones)

Garlic (how many bulbs do you have?)

Thyme

Bay leaves

Red wine (lots of it)

Beef stock (some good stuff)

Redcurrant jelly

BUTTER

Use a large casserole dish (shout out to Le Creuset) and get it nice and hot with some butter and a splash of olive oil. Sear the beef cheeks so they’re nicely sealed (essential for flavour) and then set aside. Turn down the heat and slowly cook down your roughly chopped shallots. When they become translucent, add the garlic cloves (at this point in my life no amount of garlic is too much so I’m quite sure I used about 7 whole cloves) and cook down. Chuck in your chopped carrots and celery and caramelise. Add in a bunch of fresh thyme and let it all cook together for a few minutes. Return the beef cheeks to the pan and pour in your red wine. I go big. I’m talking like two thirds of a bottle here. Let that cook off - I usually use my nose to smell for when the alcohol is mostly gone. Then you need to pour over your beef stock - there should be enough to cover the top of the cheeks (if you don’t have quite enough beef stock then you can top up with water), throw in your bay leaves and bring to a bubble. Pop the lid on and put into the oven for 4.5 hours. I’m in a deep and meaningful relationship with my oven so I know how she operates - I truly believe everyone’s is different but for me she says 160 degrees on the dial.

Before your beef cheeks are ready you’re going to want to make your mash. I don’t need to tell you how to make great mash but all I will say is - lots of butter. And when I say “lots”, I mean more than seems rationally possible. Load it in there. If you put enough butter in, you won’t need to add milk or cream or any extra dairy. Just go big on the butter and season well - trust me on that.

Before we make the sauce, let’s talk greens. Creamed garlic spinach is great but I also love some roasted tenderstem broccoli. For the latter, I load them into a ceramic dish, drizzle over some olive oil, sprinkle some salt, grate over a frozen red chilli (top tip from my friend Allan - keep your fresh chillies in the freezer and then you can easily grate them instead of chopping - genius) and then the killer move is to top with slices of garlic Lurpak. Roast for 20 mins on a high heat - perfection.

After your 4.5 or so hours are done on the cheeks (you can check they are perfectly tender and falling apart by prodding with a wooden spoon) you’re going to remove them from the dish (leaving everything else behind) and then perfect your sauce. You should have lots of liquid left so now’s the time to return the pan to the hob, stir in a couple of tablespoons of the redcurrant jelly and cook down together until it’s nicely thickened. Strain the liquid into a pan to remove all of the veg and herbs and on a very low heat, stir some butter into the sauce (yes, more butter talk). This will make it glossy, rich and beautiful.

Serve your cheeks on the mash, pour over the sauce and with your veg of choice.

Now there were three cheeks in this story and only two mouths to feed. If you’ve come this far and would like to know where the third cheek ends up… grab a glass of wine and read on.

BEEF CHEEK TAGLIATELLE

Shredded leftover beef cheeks with whatever sauce was remaining

Banana shallot (either use a giant one or a couple of small ones)

Garlic 

Chilli

Tomato puree/concentrate (get the good stuff)

Red wine (here we go again)

Fresh pasta (you could make your own but leftovers are supposed to be quick right?)

The first few steps are basically Pasta Alla Vodka but with wine instead of vodka. Finely chop your shallots and cook down in a healthy glug of olive oil (I sprinkle over some salt too). If you take time over one thing in this whole process, use it on the shallots - it really makes a difference to the end flavour. Once they are beautifully translucent and sticky-looking, mince in your garlic and grate in some frozen chilli (there’s that handy tip again, thanks Allan!). Cook for a minute or so and then stir in your tomato paste to combine everything. Then you’re going to sort of deglaze with your red wine. Another healthy glug here! Once the booze has cooked off, add in your shredded beef cheek and sauce leftovers and leave to gently cook down. 

Cook your pasta - salt that water really well. 

When your sauce is cooked through, add a few ladles of the pasta cooking water to loosen the sauce, drain your pasta, then toss everything together in the pan with a sprinkling of finely chopped parsley.

So so easy, so so delicious.

And there we have it, a weekend spent drafting a love letter to the beef cheek. 

IN OTHER NEWS…

For any West London dwellers - a new seafood bar and fishmongers has opened up in Chiswick and I’m claiming it as the best thing since sliced soda bread. My Irish Nanny made the best soda bread around so I know what I’m talking about here. I’m almost loathed to tell anyone about it as I know come summer that the Whistling Oyster will be packed to the rafters and impossible to get a seat at. The smoked salmon, dressed crab and pint of prawns were pure heaven.

Until next time, cheers!