RECIPE: Osso Buco So Cal Style

Embracing Autumn's Arrival one Forkful at a Time

Autumn snuck up on my this time. All of Southern California was preoccupied with sweltering heat and choking fires right up to the Equinox, and then—almost overnight—the cool weather arrived, and the smoke subsided. We even had a little rain bless the fire-scorched forests. Maybe Mother Nature was weeping for the loss of so much natural beauty. I know I was.

During Los Angeles’ equinoctial phase, we don’t experience the East Coast’s magical “golden livery” of foliage, the Midwest’s tidal migrations of water fowl, or that general spiritual thankfulness for what all that has been sowed at harvest time. The reaping of our agricultural abundance in California is so embarrassingly frequent that seasons feel more like suggestions from a bygone bucolic reality now eclipsed by technology and commerce. 

In my little suburban village, Fall means that the hum of the air conditioner is no longer a daily occurrence. With the advancing chill of the desert air, it will be too cold and dark to dine outside. My fleece and jeans come out of the bottom drawer for the first time in half a year. And what I appreciate most about this otherwise uneventful seasonal evolution, is that our dinner menu changes as well. It’s suddenly time for stew.

So why not dust off a recipe for one of the most famous braises of all, osso buco. 

Simple, decadent, satisfying, osso buco is a fantastic example of culinary alchemy, turning a tough, lean, ordinary cut of beef, into a moist, debaucherous, show-stopper of a main course, all through the art of low and slow cooking.

Originally from the fashion and finance mecca that is Milan in the Lombard region of Italy, osso buco is staple of northern Italian. The pot bubbling slowly over the kitchen hearth would warm the home against the Alpine winds blowing through the Po River plains as well as fill a family’s worth of cold bellies.

Like most Italian cuisine, folks pride themselves on traditional recipes, and don’t look kindly on adulteration. However, being of that Southern California sensibility, I can’t leave well enough along, and have taken a few liberties to make osso buco mine. Don’t worry, there’s no avocado…..

First—like any self-respecting butchers—I’ll start with the protein. The purists would call for veal. Lombary is known for its dairy cattle, and cheeses like Gorgonzola, Grana Padano, and Mascarpone. And where ever there are dairies, there is always veal. That’s because boy beef is a byproduct of milk production. Cows need to give birth to produce milk, and roughly half of their calves are male. Not in the business of beef, these juveniles are processed early for their mild, tender meats.

Probably not surprising to most, in California, veal can make some ill-informed guests squeamish. So I chose 100% grass finished Beef Shank from one of my favorite ranches, like Mariposa or Stemple Creek. Although not as mild and sweet as veal, mature beef shank allows for larger portions, a more robust sauce, and buttery marrow you can spoon out with a fork and spread on a crusty ciabatta. If you have the choice, ask your butcher to “cross-cut” your shanks from higher up the hind leg. These are the largest, meatiest portions, great for groups or lots of leftovers.

Milano locals favor dredging the meat in flour before searing and braising, but in a carb/gluten-phobic SoCal, I omit the wheat, and sear generously in a cast iron pan with some pork or beef fat from the fridge. Never throw away your animal fats, or heaven forbid, pour them down the sink!

Another culinary liberty in my recipe is the absence of gremolata, the ubiquitous Northern Italian condiment made up of parsley, garlic, lemon zest and juice and olive oil. I’ve got some apple cider vinegar to tang things up, which also fills in for wine should you have and Keto or Whole 30 fans you have to keep happy. 

A saffron risotto or polenta are the traditional accompaniments, but I prefer it over some al dente egg noodles. A more American bistro approach might call for some buttery garlic mashed potatoes, or extra done tattertots! Garnish things with a side of charred brocollini.

Although I am bracing for the reprimands from my Italian food fanatic friends, trust me, when you take that first bite, the slow simmered osso buco feels like the perfect antidote to that dreaded winter chill, warming you from the inside out.

Meals like this remind me that cooking is as much ritual as it is nourishment. A kitchen warm, fragrant, and inviting is as sustaining as is the hearty stew itself. Take the opportunity to slow down, savor, and relish the grounding simplicity of a meal that has nourished generations. After all, if we can't stop the turning of the seasons, we might as well embrace them—one forkful at a time.