Daube know why

I've sometimes wondered why I associate daubes with summer. They're pretty substantial slow cooked dishes that one might expect to appeal in winter but whatever the reason, it's in summer that I think about cooking them.

The perfect occasion to eat a daube is lunch when you have a free afternoon: you don't want to have anything to do afterwards. Probably lamb is the classic meat, but there are some recipes that use beef, probably a nod to the beef raised in the camargue. This is the daube that I remember most from childhood and that I cook most often now. It's not rocket science to cook this dish but it absolutely must be cooked long and slow, otherwise you will end up with tough beef. This is a slightly unusual version because there is no marinading of the meat.

The meat: I use the best steak short of filet that I can but with reasonably careful cooking chuck does fine.
The wine: a bottle of drinkable languedoc red - I've used fitou, minervois, corbieres.
Lardons.
Onions.
Carrots.
Olives: nicoises, pitted, around two small handfulls.
Stock.
Herbes de province or a bouquet garni: at least bay, thyme, parsley. Either of these work fine for me.
Juniper berries.
Two salted anchovies.
Orange peel.
Garlic.
Salt and pepper.
Flour.
Olive oil.

Cut the meat to the size that you like and dust it in seasoned flour. (I put the flour in a bag, season it, add the beef and shake).

A few pieces at a time fry the beef for a very few moments in the oil in a heavy bottom casserole. If you don't have a casserole you can use on the stove top use a frying pan.

Put the beef to one side add first the lardons then the onions to the remaining oil. When the onions are soft but have no colour add the garlic, the anchovies (you can chop them if you like) and then the sliced carrots.

Return the beef to the pan and add the herbs or bouquet garni, pound the juniper berries once to crack them and add them followed by the orange peel.

Let these all cook for a few moments on a gentle to medium flame and then add the pitted olives. When these are mixed in add one cup of stock and then enough red wine to cover the daube - I usually end up using around two thirds of a bottle but you can use more or less as you need or use more stock and less wine. You want it to come to the boil now just a minute.

Now you can add pepper, but I recommend leaving salt until you are close to serving - remember you have added anchovies and olives.

The trick now is to cover the pan, set it in the oven on the lowest flame and leave it for a few hours. If you do this then even cheaper cuts of meat will achieve a melting tenderness.

When you return to your daube you may find that the sauce isn't as thick as you would like, in which case you can add a lump or two of beurre manie - and bring the daub quickly to the boil on the stove top for the shortest time possible then simmering to cook out the flour. I don't usually bother - the two ravenous guys I cook for will slurp up the sauce thickened or not.

I would serve this with noodles or mashed potatoes or maybe rice (red rice of course...). As an alternative bulk out, I sometimes cut a good baton or baguette (or ficelle or n'importe quel pain) in to 3 cm thick slices, take the lid off the daube and put the bread on top for the last fourty minutes or so of cooking - it helps to baste each slice with a little sauce once or twice.

Looking at this recipe which is certainly typical of the daubs we ate at home when I was a kid, I realise that it's neither one thing nor the other. It's made with beef and olives but it's not boeuf guardiane nor is it marinaded like the typical daubes de Provence. But it's what my mother and grandmother (and all my aunts) served up regularly in summer. As if a plate of this with noodles wouldn't be enough to ensure a sleepy afternoon, I remember that we'd often have a salad before and sometimes another vegetable dish - fenouille braisee or les farcis and then cheese and fruit or dessert to follow. Heaven knows how we managed it without being obese as kids!