Nom Nom Paleo: Food for Humans (61 page)

I rarely throw around the term “caveman diet.” As I mentioned earlier, in our house, we simply try to prioritize whole, nutrient-dense ingredients, and steer clear of foods that tend to be more harmful than healthful. Sadly, I’ve found that when the word “caveman” is associated with the way we eat, people tend to stare at us like we’re absolutely bonkers. (Which we are, but that’s beside the point.)

Still, embracing the “caveman” label can be a fun way to get the whole family into the spirit of Paleo chow. Take these smashed steak skewers: they’re simple, tasty, and kid-approved. I can’t think of anything more primal than speared hunks of meat, flattened with a heavy object and grilled over an open fire—can you?

1. F
   irst, make the barbecue sauce. Melt the ghee over medium heat in a small saucepan. Add the shallots and a pinch of salt and sauté until translucent, about
   5
   minutes. Stir in the garlic, ginger, and tomato paste, and sauté for
   30
   seconds until fragrant. Add the coconut aminos, vinegar, apple juice, and cherries, and bring the ingredients to a boil.
   
2. L
   ower the heat and simmer for
   10
   minutes or until the cherry mixture is thickened. While the sauce is simmering, stir occasionally and smush the cherries against the side of the pot.
   
3. S
   eason the sauce with salt and pepper to taste. Transfer the sauce to a bowl and set aside.
   
4. C
   ut the steak in half lengthwise (along the grain). Then, slice the steak in half across the grain, then in fourths, and finally in eighths. You should end up with
   16
   rectangular pieces of meat. Carefully stab each chunk of meat through the center with a skewer.
   
5. N
   ow comes the fun part: grab a hefty meat pounder or small cast-iron skillet, and smash each steak skewer until it’s about ½ inch thick. Season the beef with salt and pepper, and brush both sides with melted ghee.
   
6. F
   ire up your backyard grill, and cook over high heat for
   1
   to
   2
   minutes on each side.
   
7. R
   est the meat skewers for
   5
   to
   10
   minutes before brushing on the cherry barbecue sauce. A garnish of fresh green scallions is optional, but it can instantly transform this rugged plate of skewers into a more refined dish. Serve immediately.
   

1
(
4
-pound)
beef chuck roast
, cut into
2
-inch cubes
2
teaspoons
kosher salt
4
slices
bacon
, cut into ¼-inch pieces
1
medium
yellow onion
, cut into ½-inch dice
2
tablespoons
tomato paste
¼
cup
ancho chile powder
2
tablespoons ground
cumin
1
tablespoon
dried
oregano
2
teaspoons
smoked paprika
6
cups
Bone Broth
or chicken stock, divided
1
ounce
unsweetened chocolate
, shaved
4
garlic cloves
, minced
Juice from
1
small
lime
Freshly ground
black pepper
½
medium
white onion
, cut into ¼-inch pieces (optional)
½
cup minced fresh
cilantro
(optional)
½
cup julienned
radishes
(optional)
2
small
limes
, quartered (optional)

During college, Henry and I worked at the same research institute on campus, and every summer, the staff organized a friendly chili cook-off. Most of the participants approached the contest with casual good humor, thinking only of kicking back with bowls of chili and cold bottles of beer in the California sunshine.

But not us. We were in it to win it.

My future husband and I spent days tinkering with our chili, adding and subtracting ingredients until we landed on what we thought was a sure winner: a spicy mélange of meat and peppers
...
and beans and corn.

And just to be sure that we’d emerge victorious, we badgered some friends into brazenly stuffing the ballot box in our favor. Our chili won by a hair, but it was a hollow victory—and not just because everyone was already on to our vote-rigging scheme. We knew our chili wasn’t the best submission.

The true winner was a pot of rich, meaty, no-bean stew, with fork-tender pieces of flavorful chuck roast and just the right balance of salt and heat. It’s been twenty years since the contest, but I still dream about that chili. After countless hours in the kitchen, this recipe is the closest I’ve come to replicating the dish that should’ve rightfully won that cook-off all those summers ago. If you’re anything like me, you won’t soon forget this Southwestern-style chili, with its smoky spices and tender chunks of beef.

1. P
   reheat the oven to
   275
   °F. In a large bowl, toss the beef with the salt and set aside. Cook the bacon in a large Dutch oven over medium heat. Stir occasionally to ensure even browning. Once it’s crisp, transfer the crunchy bacon to a platter with a slotted spoon.
   
2. I
   ncrease the heat to medium-high. In batches, add the beef in a single layer to the bacon drippings in the Dutch oven, and brown the meat on two sides, about
   2
   minutes per side. Transfer the beef to a plate.
   
3. L
   ower the heat to medium, and add the yellow onion and tomato paste. Sauté until the onion is tender and translucent, about
   5
   minutes. In the meantime, combine the chile powder, cumin, oregano, paprika, and ½ cup of the stock in a small bowl. Mix until smooth, and then stir in the chocolate shavings.
   
4. W
   hen the onion is soft, stir in the garlic and chili-chocolate mixture, and cook for
   1
   minute or until fragrant. Add the seared beef, cooked bacon, the remaining
   5
   ½ cups broth, and the lime juice. Stir well. Increase the heat to high and bring the contents of the Dutch oven up to a boil. Cover, but leave the lid slightly ajar. Place the pot in the oven, and cook for
   3
   hours or until the meat is fork-tender.
   
5. S
   eason with salt and pepper, and place the chili in the refrigerator overnight or up to
   5
   days to enable the flavors to meld. Reheat on the stove, and if desired, top with chopped white onion, cilantro, radishes, and limes.