Malaysian-style Beef Rendang Made for No Particular Reason Except That I Wanted Some

I made my favorite food on the planet--beef rendang--a few weeks ago. It's been four or more years since I last made it. It's very rich, so I usually reserve it for special occasions, like someone else's birthday or a New Year's Eve party with friends. Lately, however, I've come to the realization that waiting for rendang is probably not a wise use of the time I have remaining on Earth. Life is short. Time is running out. Seize the day! Make the rendang! 

There are a million different recipes for rendang, the celebrated Southeast Asian feast food made from meat braised in coconut milk and spices. It amazes me how varied the recipes are and how different the final dish can look--from soupy/sauce-y and bright red to bone dry (a kind of dish known as a "dry curry") and nearly black. Some cooks don't use lemongrass at all; others omit the ground spices and just heap on the lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves. Some use a fiery blend of raw and dried chillies; others offer only the tiniest background prick of capsicum heat.

Chicken appears in a number of the online recipes, though I have never tasted chicken rendang and can't imagine chicken meat standing up to the long cooking time. (Maybe a stewing hen would work, but they aren't readily available at most American groceries.) I have tasted lamb rendang and enjoyed it, but for me, rendang means beef or water buffalo . . . or cow.

Rendang served with plain basmati rice, cucumbers and tomatoes.

The "beef" used in this particular demonstration of rendang is cow. After hearing about and reading too many real life horror stories about the U.S. corn industry, feed lots, and how cattle are made mortally ill by what we make them eat, I have given up consuming commercially-produced beef. This is not easy; I love beef.

I have no problem with, no guilt about, the fact that animals have to die for me to be a dedicated omnivore. I do have trouble, however, with the idea that the animal I'm eating was abused and tortured before ending up on my plate. Cruelty is not palatable. Nor is it necessary. As Temple Grandin says, "Nature is cruel, but we don't have to be."

For this day's recipe, I managed to acquire the meat of a retired, grass-fed, free-range dairy cow who was treated well all her life. In celebration of her life and ours, I offer the following:

Happy Cow Rendang

I can't speak to the authenticity of my recipe, since I developed it over a number of years in an information vacuum (this was back in the '80s, before Internet food blogs from around the world) and without easy access to key ingredients. When I lived in eastern Washington, in fact, I had to have one of my sisters ship coconut milk, lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves from her home in San Francisco.  My mom would also send me ingredients, when she could find them for herself, from her home near Chicago. My willingness to hassle family members for ingredients, and sacrifice to raise the money for the shipping costs when I was dirt poor, is testimony to my love of this dish.

As I was developing this recipe, all I had to go on was a series of memories--memories of eating rendang at weddings and at neighbors' and friends' homes during Hari Raya Puasa (the end of the Muslim fasting month of Ramadan) and memories of standing over a steaming kuali (a.k.a. 'wok'), stirring and stirring a rich meat and coconut milk stew under the guidance of our cook in Kampung Baru when I was all of six or seven. 

Dried red chillis (these are Chile de Arbol) in hot water. I was halfway through snipping these chillis into small pieces with my kitchen shears before I remembered to take a picture, which is why some of the chillis are whole and some are not.)

• 3 lbs. stewing beef, cubed
• 3 tablespoons peanut or canola oil (or coconut oil, if you can find it)
• large yellow onion, diced
• 2-inches ginger root, peeled and minced
• 8 or so garlic cloves, crushed
• 4 stalks of lemongrass, cut into short segments (if not available in your product section, these are available from online Asian groceries)
• 6-8 kaffir lime leaves (if not available in your product section, these are available from online Asian groceries)
• 2-3 star anise
• 2 sticks cinnamon
• 3 tablespoons ground coriander
• 2 tablespoons ground cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon ground clove
• 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 6 dried red chillies (Chile de Arbol, dried Cayenne and Thai chillies are easiest to find in the American midwest), seeds removed, reconstituted in 1/2 cup of boiling water; cut into small pieces. [This made a medium-spicy rendang. Add more if you prefer more heat.]
• 2+ cans unsweetened coconut milk
• 1 cup dessicated coconut, toasted (For me, dessicated coconut has always been the hardest ingredient to find. Do not use the sweet shredded coconut that we use in the U.S. for cookies, cakes and other desserts. What you want here is unsweetened, dried coconut meat with no additives. My supplier is the bulk foods aisle at Whole Foods in Cleveland, about an hour's drive away.)
• salt to taste (DO NOT ADD until after coconut milk has boiled down)

1.  In a heavy dutch oven, brown the beef in oil in small batches. Do not crowd the pan, or the meat will steam rather than brown. Set the browned meat aside.

2.  Into the hot pan, toss the diced onion, ginger root and garlic. Stir fry until the onion pieces are translucent and soft, about 10 minutes.

3. Add the lemongrass, kaffir lime leaves, star anise, cinnamon sticks, and ground spices. Stir fry another few minutes, until the spices start to release their fragrance.

4. Add the coconut milk and deglaze the pan (that is, scrape all those bits of meat and onion from the bottom of the pan). Add the meat back into the pan, along with the chilli pieces and their water.

5. Bring this beige-ugly stew to a boil, then turn the heat down to very, very low. Cover the pan with a heavy lid and allow to slow stew for at least 2 or 3 hours. You can add more coconut milk, if you need to. As time goes on, an astounding, heavenly aroma will begin to fill your house. [Note: The more authentic way to cook rendang is in an open wok over a low flame, adding more coconut milk as it boils away. However, because coconut milk is expensive and sometimes hard to find in Ohio, I prefer to put a lid on the pot to slow down the evaporation of the coconut milk, at least until the meat is very tender. An added advantage to the closed-pot method is that, in the end, there are fewer calories in the final dish because there is less coconut oil.]

6.  Toast the dessicated coconut in a dry pan until deep brown. Be careful. The coconut will not seem to be toasting for quite a while; then, suddenly, it will go golden and brown fast. I usually turn off the heat when the  coconut is golden and allow the residual heat of the pan to finish the toasting.

7. When the beef is very, very tender (or even falling apart), it's time to reduce the braising sauce  to a paste. Turn up the heat and keep stirring as the liquid boils away. Stir and stir and stir. It is vitally important to keep stirring, as the thickening concoction will tend to scorch and burn. When most of the liquid is gone, you can add some salt, to taste.

8. As you stir, remove those hard-to-chew aromatics--the lemongrass, lime leaves, cinnamon sticks and star anise pieces. These you can throw away or compost.

9. When the sauce is very, very thick, add the toasted coconut and keep stirring. Eventually, the rendang sauce will start to pull away from the pan and stick to the meat. This means it's done! Turn off the heat.

Makes 12 to 16 servings. Traditionally served over steamed rice or with roti, Malay flat bread. Fortunately, rendang freezes well, so I will be setting aside a good portion for Ground Hog Day (my birthday).

Below is a one-handed video of steps 6, 7 and 8 combined. (My first cooking video! My apologies for mumbling. I spoke as if I was talking to myself instead of to you, my audience. I'll try to do better next time.)

Malaysian-style Crock Pot Curry with Lamb

The following is adapted from a recipe for mutton curry on the Asian Society website: Malaysian Mutton Curry/Gulai Kambing. My adaptation notes are included at the end of this entry.

This will be the first in a series of entries in which I will try to reclaim/discover some of the Southeast Asians food of my childhood years (1964-65 and 1971-72) when my family lived in a Malay village within Kuala Lumpur. I have only a handful of recipes from that time. Most of what I know comes from my memories of working in the kitchen with our cook. One of the challenging aspects of recreating my Malaysian culinary past will be finding ingredients and/or substitutes here in Ohio.

Another challenge will be in creating the spice blends. Our kitchen in Malaysia did not have endless varieties of spices on hand. Instead, we purchased pre-made curry pastes and powders as we needed them at the "wet" market in Kuala Lumpur. My memory is that our cook would come shopping with us (my mom and my sister; later, sisters) and she would tell the spice woman what we planned to cook. The spice vendor would offer up her recommendations--powdered blends or curry pastes--based on whatever our meat, poultry, fish and/or vegetable purchases were that day.  

My ultimate goal is to collect--over the course of the next eight months--a groaning rijstafel (Dutch word meaning "rice table") worth of recipes and frozen leftovers to celebrate Ground Hog Day, 2012, in grand style. I have always wanted to have a Malay feast for my birthday. Next February, I will.

Crock Pot Curry with Lamb

Step 1: Debone 1/2 leg of lamb and cut the meat into bite-size pieces. (Or, have about 3 lbs of lamb stew meat cubed and ready.)

Step 2:  Set the crock pot (or slow cooker) to “high” and add the following:

• 1 15-oz. can unsweetened coconut milk
• 1 20 oz. can diced tomatoes (see adaptation notes, below)
• 0 to 3 tablespoons Sambal Oelek, depending on your heat preference (see adaptation notes below); 3 tablespoons of this chili paste packs a good "medium" to "hot" punch)
• ½ cup lemon juice (see adaptation notes below)
• zest and juice of 1 lime (see adaptation notes below)
• 1 tablespoon dark honey (see adaptation notes below)
• 2 whole bay leaves (see adaptation notes)
• 24 inches of lemongrass stalk, cut into 3-inch lengths, smashed and bruised (these will also be removed before serving; also, see adaptation notes below.)
• 1 tablespoon kosher salt

 

Step 3:  In a food processor, puree the following ingredients together until the onion is in very very small pieces:

• ½ cup water
• 2 medium-sized onions, chopped
• 5-6 garlic cloves, crushed
• 1-inch piece of fresh ginger root, peeled and minced
• 4 teaspoons ground coriander
• 2 teaspoon ground cumin
• 2 teaspoon turmeric powder
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1 teaspoon ground fennel
• 1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  1 teaspoon ground cardamom
• 1 teaspoon cracked black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon ground clove

The final product will not be a paste, exactly. It will be more of a water-y, loose mash of onion/garlic/ginger bits with spices.

Step 4: 

In small batches, lightly brown the lamb pieces from Step 1 in a few tablespoons of canola oil. Don't overcrowd the pan; allow some space around each piece of lamb, so that the meat can brown without steaming/boiling. Add the browned meat to the crockpot as you finish each batch. (Because I deboned the lamb leg myself this time, I also browned and added the stripped bone joint to the crock pot.)

Step 5: 

After the meat has been added to the crock pot, fry the onion-curry concoction from Step 3 (above). Use the water and onion liquid in the concoction to help you deglaze the pan using a spatula. Keep cooking over high head for about 10 minutes, until the liquid is almost gone and the onion is no longer raw. Add this loose, chunky onion-curry "paste" to the crock pot. Mix well.

Step 6: 

Cover the crock pot and turn the heat down to “low.” Allow the curry to slow cook for about 5 to 6 hours. Near the end of the cooking time, remove and discard the bay leaves and lemongrass pieces. (And remove the lamb bone as well, if you used it.) Turn off the crock pot and allow the curry to stop boiling and cool down slightly.

Step 7: 

In a dry frying pan, toast 3/4 cup of unsweetened desiccated coconut over low heat, stirring often to keep from over-browning. Set aside.

Put 1/2 cup of unsalted cashew pieces in a ziplock plastic bag and, using the bottom of a cup or glass, crush the nuts into a fine meal. You can also do this in a coffee or spice grinder, but be careful not to over-process.  (Alternately, you can also use almond meal, which is often available in the produce or the baking sections of larger grocery stores. See adaptation notes below.) Set aside.

Step 8:
Before adding the coconut and nut meal to thicken the curry, be sure to skim off any excess grease floating on top. Most of this grease is from connective tissues in the meat that has been released during the slow cooking.

Add the toasted coconut and the nut meal to the crock pot curry and incorporate well. Add salt, to taste, if necessary. Serve over steamed rice.

Here's the Malaysian-style lamb curry on plain rice with fresh cucumber slices and grape tomatoes.

Makes 10 to 12 servings . . . which is a hellava lot for this one-person household. The first bite sent shivers of recognition and pleasure down my spite. This may not be exactly the spicy lamb curry I remember from when I was 12, but it's pretty close. I will be freezing single portions with rice for a few quick microwaveable lunches and dinners for myself over the summer. PLUS, I'm setting aside a healthy portion for Ground Hog Day 2012 as well. 

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Adaptation Notes

Tomatoes  -- The original recipe called for fresh tomatoes, which would be wonderful. But it's late May in Ohio as I'm shopping for ingredients, and fresh tomatoes are both expensive and not very ripe. So, I'm substituting canned diced tomatoes for the fresh.

Bay Leaves -- There are no bay leaves in the original recipe. However, I love the marriage of bay and tomato, so I added them.

Tamarind -- I replaced the tamarind (which I could not find locally) with 1/2 cup lemon juice, the zest and juice of one lime, and one tablespoon of dark organic honey. Many of the Internet substitutes for tamarind suggest using sugar with the lemon or lime juice, but I think honey has more of the fruit flavor overtones that tamarind has.  

Chilies -- The original recipe called for "large dried red chilies," which is far too generic a phrase for me (the chili head). Most of the dried chilies available locally are ancho (rather mild and large) or cayenne (smaller hot) chilies, and other varies used in Mexican cuisine. I could not find Thai red chilies (which are even smaller and hotter than cayenne chilies), though I know they are sometimes available in this area. Instead of "dried chilies," then, I opted for a few tablespoons of Sambal Oelek, crushed red chilies from Indonesia. Sambal Oelek is usually available at the Boardman and Poland (Ohio) Giant Eagles in their International section and is also available at Whole Foods in Cleveland. 

Candlenuts -- I found a small jar of candlenuts once in Seattle, but I've never found them anywhere else that I've lived in the United States. Candlenuts are used in Southeast Asian cooking primarily as a nut-flavored thickener to curries and kurmas. I've found that a good substitute for candlenuts is ground up raw cashews or almond meal (the kind available around November and December for holiday baking). Both cashews and almonds are readily available in most larger grocery stores in the U.S. Many online sites recommend macadamia nuts as a substitute for candlenuts. However, macademia nuts are astronomically expensive, in my opinion. I found some at the Poland Giant Eagle last weekend for $ 9.00 for 6 oz. Which is highway robbery!

Dessicated Coconut -- This ingredient is surprisingly hard to find, though it is a simple thing, really.  All it is is grated coconut, dried. This is not the shredded overly-sweetened coconut that turns up in the baking section of many grocery stores here; it is plain coconut, unsweetened, with no added anything. I get mine from the bulk section of Whole Foods, in Cleveland. Once toasted, dessicated coconut -- like the almond nut meal or ground cashews -- acts as a thickener for curries and kurmas.

What About Vegetables? -- One thing I remember from my childhood in Malaysia was that the meat curries had potatoes and other vegetables in them. Meat in Southeast Asia at that time (1960s and early 1970s) was more of a condiment than the main star. Curries and kurmas had not only the featured meat, but whatever vegetables happened to be in season. With my next adventure with this recipe, I will probably add boiled red potatoes and green peas or green beans and/or some diced eggplant (or something else from the local farm stands) toward the end of the cooking time.