Prime Rib: It’s not just for Christmas dinner.

I’ll make this whenever I can get my paws on one at a good price (or the rare super sale). It’s a great excuse to have a party. In fact, if you’re sick of ham on Easter, consider giving Roast Beast it’s day in the (springtime) sun.

This is a restaurant technique that’s practically guaranteed to produce a moist, juicy, evenly cooked roast beast. And it couldn’t be simpler.

Seriously.

How to buy prime rib

Prime rib is expensive, so you want to be sure you get the best meat for your dollar. You’ll find it sold two ways: bone in, or boneless. I prefer the bone-in roasts. I think they taste better. They also make a slightly more impressive table presentation. Boneless roasts cook a little faster, so keep that in mind as it’s roasting.

Look for a roast with a layer of creamy white fat on the top. You’re going to roast your beast fat-side up, so the fat bastes the meat as it melts. The roast should be tied (though you can do this yourself at home) to keep its nice, plump shape as it cooks.

The flesh should be bright red and the fat should be firm and white.

Look for good marbling, if you can find it. Marbling = those skinny little strips of white fat shot through the meat. Most of it will melt as the meat roasts, contributing rich, beefy flavor.

Many butchers will have some pre-cut and wrapped in the case, especially around the holidays. If you don’t like the look of the ones they have out, ask your butcher to cut a fresh one for you. Depending on your market, you might need to special order one.

I’ve said it before: Find a butcher and make friends with him. You can thank me later.

What size roast do you need?

When you order prime rib at a restaurant, normally you’ll get one whole rib, so you wind up with a brontosaurus-sized steak.

You can certainly cut one rib per person, but that can be a lot of meat for one, especially if you’re serving other stuff. Plus, that can get pricey fast.

I prefer to carve the ribs off, then cut the boneless roast into thinner slices. You’ll be able to feed a lot more people that way. If you go that route:

Count on (raw weight):
4 lbs. for 3-4 people
5 lbs. for 4-5 people
6 lbs. for 5-6 people
7 lbs. for 6-7 people
10 lbs. for 8-10 people
14 lbs. for 10-12 people

The short version of the recipe goes like this

Sear the meat quickly on all sides on top of the stove to develop flavor and color. Then roast it slowly in a 250-degree oven for a few hours. It seems too low, but trust me, it’ll cook.

Most prime rib recipes will give you a roast that looks kind of like a bulls-eye: Brown on the outside, pink in the center. This method of cooking (at a low temperature for a long time) gives you a roast that’s evenly cooked through and through, so every bit of every slice is just the way you like it.

This is a basic recipe that lets the rich, beefy flavor of the meat shine through. If you like, rub the roast with a little garlic, rosemary, and powdered bay leaf after you sear it (so you don’t burn the spices). You get the picture.

Restaurant-Style Prime Rib Roast

1 (5-7 lb.) prime rib
kosher salt
freshly cracked black pepper
olive oil

Serves 4-7

Prep the beast

Grab your roast. Give him a quick rinse under cold water and pat him dry with paper towels. Get him very, very, very dry. If you don’t, he won’t sear well (water inhibits browning…the meat will kind of steam instead of brown)…

Next, smear him with olive oil. I use pure olive oil, not extra virgin, because it has a higher smoke point. (Plus, virgin and extra virgin olive oil are best saved for finishing and drizzling, not cooking, so their grassy flavor can shine through. Heat basically destroys that.)

Sprinkle him generously on all sides with kosher salt and freshly cracked black pepper.

Be sure to get all sides, including both ends.

Sear the beast

Throw open a window and grab a fan, because there’s gonna be smoke. Preheat your oven to 250 degrees.

Next, put a little olive oil in a large, heavy bottomed skillet. Roll the pan around so that the bottom is coated. Set it on the stove over high heat. When the oil starts to shimmer, it’s hot enough for your meat.

Put the meat in the pan. It doesn’t really matter which side you start with because you’re going to do all sides.

When he’s brown on one side, flip him over.

Keep flipping him until he’s brown on all sides.

Don’t forget to get the ends.

Roast the beast

When your beast is brown on all sides, remove him from the pan. Place a rack in a roasting pan. Set the meat on the rack, fat-side up. This is important. You want the fat-side up, so that the fat melts as the meat roasts and bastes it.

Pop him into your pre-heated 250-degree oven.

Roast for 3 – 3/12 hours until he registers at least 120 degrees on a meat thermometer.

When is it done?

Most roasts will increase in temperature dramatically once they come out of the oven. Usually, the hotter the oven, the more your temperature will rise.

This “carry-over” cooking means you have to be very mindful of when you yank the beast out of the oven. It also means that the doneness is hard to get right. (Raise your hand if you’ve ever blown the timing on a roast. I know I have.)

Not so with this method. Because the meat is roasted at such a low temperature, it should only increase a few degrees.

It’s a more reliable way to roast a prime rib, and makes timing your meal a lot easier.

Temperature chart
121°-125° F = rare
130°-135° F = medium-rare
140° F = medium
150° F = medium-well
160° F = well done

Be sure to get the meat thermometer into the center of the roast, not touching any bones (that will skew your reading).

Tent your roast under aluminum foil for 15-20 minutes. (Tent means loosely drape and tuck a little, don’t wrap it airtight.) This will let the juices settle back into the roast.

Slice, serve, inhale!

After your roast has rested, transfer it to a serving platter. Carve it up however you like. Thick slices. Paper thin slices. Whole ribs, if you got a bone-in beast.

Enjoy!

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This is, hands down, the most delicious thing I’ve made in a long time.

And the most expensive. And the most time consuming. And the most primally…viscerally…carnivorously satisfying.

No joke, I woke up in the middle of the night last night thinking about this stuff. Admittedly, I have problems. (Or at least very particular tastes.)

What is oxtail marmalade?

Think about the best beef stew you’ve ever had. For me, that’s beef bourguignon. Intensify the flavor like, a kabillion times. Balance the flavors perfectly with sugar and acid. Make it so thick and sticky that you can stand a spoon up in a bowl of it.

Then you’ll start to approach the goodness that is oxtail marmalade.

Let me back up.

I first saw the recipe for Blue Ribbon Brasserie’s oxtail marmalade a few weeks ago on Serious Eats. I knew I had to try it. It’s one of those things that I’d seen diners rave about on the interwebs from time to time. Now I know why. I haven’t been to the restaurant in New York, but I may need to make the trip.

Make that the pilgrimage. I think these guys (Eric & Bruce Bromberg) are my new heroes. This recipe is from their new cookbook, Bromberg Bros. Blue Ribbon Cookbook.

Consider. Hours of cooking? An ingredient list that includes a huge bottle of wine and two bottles of port? The prospect of transforming one of the toughest and nastiest parts of a beast into something so succulent that you can spread it on toast?

Totally my speed.

I spent all day on Sunday in the kitchen. By the time I was done, I’ll admit that was frazzled. (“Oh. My. God. I have to cut a pound-and-a-half of carrots into quarter-inch dice? And I bought BABY carrots?”).

Ask The Angry Chef. He chopped the shallots for me because I was too distraught to do it. (“I didn’t start early enough. I didn’t realize I’d need to run out and get another bottle of port. I’m hungry and it smells so good.” And so on…)

The dog spent the afternoon with me, milling about the kitchen, snout in the air. (Yep, he’s vibrating.)

Oxtail marmalade is not a fast (or cheap) proposition

This recipe is definitely a labor of love.

All told, it took me about 6 hours to make. Granted, that’s not active cooking time (there’s a lot of simmering and reducing). In between, I made some ricotta, a coffee cake, and three dozen doughnuts.

But still.

It also cost about $40, between the wine, the port, and the meat.

Which is kind of over the top—especially when you consider that I love this stuff so much that I may have to make more immediately when I run out. (I can see it now: We’ll be the only couple who ever went bankrupt from an oxtail marmalade habit run amok.)

Seriously, though. Make this once. Cut the recipe in half (or quarters) to save some dough on ingredients. It’s definitely worth the time and effort.

Use wine and port that you would drink

It doesn’t have to be super expensive, but definitely use wine and port that you wouldn’t mind drinking. Reducing them only concentrates their flavors, so it makes sense to fill the pot with stuff you like. I used Yellow Tail Shiraz and Dow’s port.

How to make oxtail marmalade

There’s a few basic parts to this recipe. In a nutshell, here’s what you’re doing:

• Part 1: The Meat
  Simmer the oxtails in red wine, port, garlic, peppercorns, and fresh thyme for about 3 hours, until the meat is so tender you can mistake it for barbecued, shredded beef. Remove all the meat from the bones, dice it up, set it aside.

• Part 2: The Sauce
  Strain the braising liquid, reduce it, then thicken it with a big hunk of beurre manie, a paste of equal parts butter and flour. Set that aside. This stuff is so good you’ll want to bathe in it. Try it and tell me I’m wrong.

• Part 3: The Jammy Bits & Pieces
  Saute carrots and shallots in butter, then add red wine vinegar, more port, and both brown and white sugars and cook until the liquid evaporates. (The vinegar and sugar makes a sort of gastrique, which is a piquant reduction usually served with meats.)

• Part 4: The Miracle of the Marmalade
  Combine the oxtail meat, braising liquid, and sauteed veggies together. This is where the magic happens. (Where you exclaim, with your mouth full, “Oh, this was totally worth it.”) Mix well. Inhale.

Read on for detailed instructions on each step.

Serve with roasted marrow bones & challah toast

The good folks at Blue Ribbon serve this marmalade with marrow bones and challah toast. Take a peek here for how to make roasted marrow bones. (Blue Ribbon simmers theirs.)

And here for how to make challah:

How to buy oxtails

Find oxtails at your local butcher or in the meat case at most major major grocery stores in the U.S. If you don’t see any out, definitely ask if they have any in back or in the freezer.

Oxtails are literally just what they sound like: The tail of an ox. Or (more likely) a cow. They’re bony, but incredibly flavorful. Like all tough cuts, you have to coax it into tenderness with long, slow cooking.

Oxtail Marmalade

Adapted from Serious Eats and Bromberg Bros. Blue Ribbon Cookbook

4 pounds oxtail, trimmed of fat
6 cups port wine
6 cups dry red wine
4 quarts veal or chicken stock
1 head garlic, halved crosswise
1/2 bunch fresh thyme
1 Tbls. whole black peppercorns
8 Tbls. butter
3 Tbls. flour
4 cups carrots, peeled, trimmed, and cut into ¼-inch dice (about 1 1/2 lbs.)
4 cups shallots, peeled and cut into ¼-inch dice (about 1 lb.)
1 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup dark brown sugar, packed
1 cup red wine vinegar
2 1/2 tsp. freshly cracked black pepper

Yields 4-5 cups of marmalade (surely enough to last for a few days, probably not enough to bathe in)

Part 1: Cook the Oxtails

Grab your oxtails.

Put them in the biggest, heavy-bottomed pot you have. I used my trusty 9-quart Le Creuset…and it wasn’t big enough. During the first hour it was on the stove, I had to keep topping it off with chicken broth as it simmered and reduced. It worked out just fine.

Pour in all the wine and 3 cups of the port.

Add all the stock.

Toss in the peppercorns and the fresh thyme.

Whack your head of garlic in half, like this, and throw both halves (wrapper and all) in the pot.

Give the pot a good stir.

Set the pot on the stove over medium-high heat until it starts to boil rapidly.

Reduce the heat a little, until the liquid holds a good simmer. Simmer, uncovered, for about 3 hours, stirring occasionally.

After 3 hours, your pot should look kind of gross and sludge-y, like this. The meat will be purple and positively poisonous looking. But that’s what you want.

(At this point, you’ll likely be saying something like, “Good grief, that looks like total *#$%! I don’t want to eat that.” Keep going. Trust me.)

Pull the meat out of the pot with tongs and set aside on a plate to cool.

(What’d I tell ya: Icky. Gross. Purple.)

The broth should thin and a deep mahogany in color. Set it aside. You’re going to reduce it. (See below…you can totally start making the sauce while you’re waiting for the meat to be cool enough to handle.)

When the meat is cool enough to handle, pull it off the bones with your hands (or a couple of forks). Discard the fat, bone, and any strange gristley stuff.

After 3 hours of cooking, these little beasties will be really tender, so the meat should shred right off.

Chop that meat up into small pieces.

Toss it all into a bowl. Cover it and stick it in the fridge until you’re ready to assemble the marmalade.

Part 2: Make the Sauce

Strain the braising liquid and discard the solids. Put the liquid in a large saucepan on the stove over high heat. Bring it to a boil, then reduce the heat and hold it at a simmer. Simmer for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, or until it’s reduced to about 3 cups.

I have no idea 3 cups looks like in a pan. I measured my sauce after 1 1/2 hours, and it was just about 3 cups. If yours starts to look thick earlier than that, definitely measure it. It’ll be thick, opaque, and a dark, rich brown.

Put 3 Tablespoons of butter and 3 Tablespoons of flour in a small bowl.

Mash them together into a paste. (In French cooking, this is called a beurre manie, which literally means “kneaded butter.” You do this to keep the flour from forming lumps in your sauce. It’s an awesome way to thicken gravy.)

Whisk the butter/flour mixture into the reduced braising liquid over medium-high heat until it melts completely.

Cook like this for 2-3 minutes, until the sauce has thickened.

Remove the pan from the heat and set it aside until you’re ready to assemble the marmalade. (Give it a taste. This stuff is a-ma-zing!)

Part 3: The Jammy Bits & Pieces

Dice the carrots and shallots. (I’m not a big mise-en-place gal, but do this in advance if you want. It’s a lot of chopping.)

Melt the remaining 5 Tablespoons of butter in a large saucepan over medium heat.

Toss in the diced carrots and shallots. Stir to coat in butter.

Saute over medium heat for about 15 minutes, until the veggies are starting to get soft and translucent.

Toss in the kosher salt, 1 1/2 teaspoons of black pepper, and the white and brown sugars.

Pour in the remaining 3 cups of port and all the red wine vinegar. Stir to combine.

Cook over medium-high heat, stirring frequently, until the liquid has completely evaporated. This will take about 45 minutes.

When they’re done, your veggies should be completely cooked through. And…when they’re done, you’re ready (finally!) to put it all together!

Part 4: The Miracle of the Marmalade

Toss the chopped oxtail meat into the pan with the veggies.

Add the thickened braising liquid to the pan. (As it cools, it will get a little thicker. That’s just fine.)

Mix the whole thing together.

And…voila! You should be looking at a big pan of oxtail marmalade.

Keeps well in the fridge, tightly wrapped, for about 4 days.

(If, of course, it lasts that long.)

Enjoy!

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If you’re an unabashed carnivore like me, you just haven’t lived until you’ve had roasted marrow bones.

Roasted marrow bones are a simple, delicious treat that’s surprisingly easy to make at home. Just roast the bones, then scoop the marrow out, spread it on toast, and top it with a little parsley salad. Voila: Instant carnivorous bliss.

Roasted marrow Bones: Love ‘em or hate ‘em?

“Ew, Mouse. Scoop out the marrow? As in, the stuff INSIDE the bones? Gross.”

Yep, yep. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. But if it’s yours, man oh man: The whole thing is a sumptuous, decadent, and unarguably meaty experience. I absolutely love the stuff.

Roasted marrow bones got a good mention on the recent Meat-Fest episode of Food Network’s The Best Thing I Ever Ate—which is what prompted me to beat a hasty path to the nearest meat counter.

Even if you don’t like the show, this episode is worth watching if you can catch it. They featured some absurdly mouthwatering stuff. (I’m talking whole roasted beasts, etc.)

Here’s my obligatory disclaimer, because I know someone is going to give me grief: Like many delicious things, this ain’t the healthiest thing in the world. So just don’t indulge every night, OK?

About marrow bones

Roasted marrow bones aren’t widely consumed in the States (though who knows, maybe that’s changing), but they’re considered a delicacy overseas. Mostly fat with a little bit of protein, the bones are most commonly roasted or poached.

I’ve had my eye on this book for a while. (Anyone have it? What do you think?)

If you’re committed to eating marrow like a pro, you could even get yourself a couple of marrow spoons—long, thin spoons that look like something a cheesemaker would use to take a core sample out of wheel of cheddar as it ages. (If you’d rather forgo the pomp and circumstance, a slender spoon or thin knife will totally do the job, as well.)

Marrow spoon

I know a lot of folks who have never done this, so here’s how to make Fergus Henderson’s roasted marrow bones.

Who is Fergus Henderson?

Henderson is the chef owner at St. John restaurant in London. Anthony Bourdain counts him as his favorite food person (and bone marrow among his favorite comfort foods, go figure).

Wonder why? Have a look at Henderson roast some bones with Mark Bittman.

Henderson is also the author of The Whole Beast: Nose to Tail Eating, a book which hinges on the philosophy of eating the whole animal—trotters, tripe, and all.

(Can you see why I loved him instantly? For further evidence, have a peek at his other book, Beyond Nose to Tail.)

Shopping for marrow bones

For this recipe, use beef marrow bones, or veal marrow bones if you can get your paws on them. A lot of major grocers will carry them. If you can’t find them, hit up a Whole Foods or butcher shop and talk to the folks behind the meat counter.

Here are the four I got.

Some bones may be dotted with a little blood. (Hey, they’re bones.) That’s just fine. If it bothers you, you can push the marrow out, and soak it overnight in cold water, changing the water a few times. Henderson didn’t mention doing this, so I didn’t bother.

What kind of bread is best for marrow on toast?

Use a good, crusty loaf of French bread.

Slice it on the thin side and toast it lightly.

The short version of this recipe

Roast. Spread. Inhale.

Read on for slightly more detailed instructions—with photos.

Roasted Marrow Bones

Adapted from Fergus Henderson’s recipe

Serves about 4

Roast about 20 minutes

Roast the marrow bones

Preheat your oven to 450 degrees. Grab your marrow bones.

Stand them up on end in a baking dish. They’re going to ooze a little from the bottom as they cook, so choose a dish that has a little depth to it. I used a glass 8 x 8 pan.

Most bones will have one end that’s a little wider. Put that end on the bottom, so they’re less likely to tip over when you move your pan.

When your oven’s up to temp, pop the pan in.

Roast at 450 degrees for about 20 minutes, until the marrow is soft and the bones are brown.

Make the parsley salad

Chop up your parsley.

Peel your shallot and slice it thinly.

Toss the chopped parsley, shallot, and capers into a bowl. Drizzle in the olive oil and lemon juice. Sprinkle with kosher salt to taste.

Mix with a fork to combine the ingredients.

Take the marrow bones out of the oven

When the bones are done, they’ll look about like this.

Mmmmm….

Spread the marrow on the toast

At this point, your counter probably looks like this.

Have at it! Scoop out a little marrow.

Spread it on a piece of toast. Top with a little parsley salad.

Enjoy!

Have you had roasted marrow bones?

Did you like them? If you haven’t, would you try them? Leave a comment and let me know!

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I’ll spare you my standard speech about miniature food. Suffice it to say: If it’s small, I’m all over it. These mini meat loaves are no exception.

Based on Ina Garten’s fabulous recipe, these meat loaves pack huge comfort-food goodness in a small package. They’re a great thing to serve at a dinner party. I mean, come on: Who wouldn’t love a little meatloaf, made just for them?

Ina’s original recipe calls for all chuck (which is cheap and delicious).

I used a more traditional meatloaf mix of beef, pork, and veal. Use any mix of meat you like. Just be sure you wind up with 2 1/2 lbs. For the beef, definitely get ground chuck if you can. It has tons of flavor.

I also swapped in panko bread crumbs for regular, which provide a nice texture.

Panko are Japanese bread crumbs (made from crustless white bread). Most major grocery stores carry panko these days. If you can’t find them in your area, hit up an Asian market or order some online.

Panko bread crumbs

These little loaves are moist and meaty and all-together nap inducing, like all good comfort food. They have a subtle sweetness from a few cups of caramelized sweet onions, and mellow, earthy notes from mushroom soy sauce and a generous amount of fresh thyme.

The top gets covered in regular old ketchup. I like Heinz, but by all means, use your favorite.

Barbecue sauce would work, too, though the flavor could be overpowering depending on what kind you use.

Command your own little meatloaf army

Even if it’s just for a little while. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.) Seriously, though, they’re kind of fun to make. Tell me I’m wrong. (Smoosh, form, paint with ketchup…)

Alrighty. To the kitchen!

Mini Meat Loaves

Based on Ina Garten’s recipe

1 Tbls. olive oil
3 cups sweet onions, chopped (from 2-3 large onions)
2 tsp. chopped fresh thyme leaves
2 tsp. kosher salt
1 tsp. freshly cracked black pepper
3 Tbls. mushroom soy sauce
1/3 cup chicken stock
1 Tbls. tomato paste
1 lb. ground chuck (81% lean)
1 lb. ground pork
1/2 lb. ground veal
1/2 cup panko bread crumbs
2 extra-large eggs, beaten
1/2 cup ketchup
fresh parsley, minced, for garnish

Yields about 6 mini meat loaves

Preheat your oven to 350.

Caramelize the onions

Grab your onions.

Remove the peels and chop them up.

Put the olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pan on the stove over medium heat. Measure out 3 cups of onions. Toss them in the pan.

Add the thyme, black pepper, and a little kosher salt. (Go easy on the salt because you’re going to add mushroom soy, which is plenty salty, later on.) Stir to combine.

Cook over medium heat for 8-10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until translucent and brown. (Keep an eye on your heat and turn it down if need be. You want them to brown, but not stick to the pan and burn.)

When they look about like this, yank the pan off the heat.

Add the mushroom soy sauce, tomato paste, and chicken stock to the pan with the onions.

Stir to combine. Set the pan aside for a minute or two while you deal with the meat.

Make the meat mixture

Grab your meat. Toss it all in a large bowl.

Add the panko bread crumbs.

Quickly beat the eggs.

Pour the beaten eggs into the bowl.

And add the onion mixture.

Now, here’s the trick to making meatloaf that’s light and fluffy (i.e. not dense, thick, and heavy). Are you ready?

*dramatic music*

Don’t overmix it.

In fact, handle the mixture as little as possible—only enough to combine the ingredients together. Kind of the same way you make biscuits. That’s what you want to do here.

So, with your hands (or a fork, if you’d rather not get your paws all gooey), gently mix the ingredients together until just combined.

Like this:

Line a baking sheet with foil, then set a piece of parchment paper on top (if they stick, they’ll be much easier to get off the paper than the foil).

Form the loaves

Measure out 1 1/4 cups of meatloaf mixture. Plop it on your pan.

Shape the mixture gently, so that it resembles half a football. Again, you want to go easy here. Don’t mash the mixture together, which can make it tough and dense.

Repeat with the rest of your mixture, until you have 6 mini loaves.

I made mine a little smaller, so I could have enough to experiment with baking them in ramekins.

Grab your ketchup. Plunk a generous tablespoon on top of each loaf.

With your finger (or the back of a spoon), spread the ketchup around so that it covers the top.

Repeat with all your loaves.

Bake the meat loaves

Pop them into your preheated 350-degree oven. If you’re baking them in ramekins, set the dishes on a pan to catch any drips (mine bubbled over a little).

Bake 40-45 minutes, until they reach an internal temperature of 155-160 degrees. Start checking them after about 30 minutes, as your final cooking time will depend on how thick your particular loaves are. When they’re done, yank them out of the oven.

Now, depending on how fatty your meat is, your meat loaves are going to let out a little—or a lot—of juice. Don’t be alarmed if yours look like this. It’s kind of gross, I know. But it’s just fine.

Just scoop them off the pan with 2 spatulas.

Transfer them to a serving platter, and…presto! Little, picture-perfect rustic meat loaves. Sprinkle with minced parsley.

Oh, the meat loaves in the ramekins. They were good, but a wee bit on the greasy side. I’m not sure I’d do it again.

Let me tell ya: These are fabulous straight out of the oven. I swear, though, they’re even better the next day, reheated with cheese on a toasted bulkie roll.

Enjoy!

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It’s good to be back in the kitchen! (Here, have a giant platter of meat!)

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind! Between baking dozens of practice tarts for Bon Appetit’s Holiday Bake-Off Party and making a kamikaze run to New York City to their Culinary Studios, I’m happy to be back at The Mouse House and free of big deadlines (for the time being, at least).

And needless to say, after all those tarts, I’m all set with dessert, at least for a little while.

The roast beast remedy

Since prepping for Bon Appetit, I’ve been positively swimming in homemade caramel and chocolate ganache. What better way to recover than by roasting a big ole hunk of meat?

Exactly.

So, this meat will melt your face off. It’s hot. It’s spicy. It’s LOADED with garlic.

It’s a roast that’s fit for company—except, of course, if your guests are Twilight fans. (Sorry, my corny vampire jokes know no bounds since we moved to Salem, Massachusetts.)

What kind of meat should you buy?

This roast is a spiffier version of my Homemade Deli-Style Roast Beef. It’s made with sirloin instead of eye-round.

Loosely speaking, sirloin is a step above eye round, and a step below a prime rib roast. (To learn how to make restaurant-style prime rib, check out the detailed recipe in my new cookbook.)

Sirloin Roast

Sirloin is tender and loaded with beefy flavor—and is also more affordable than a traditional rib roast. Get a roast with a nice layer of creamy fat on top. (That fat will melt as it roasts and baste the meat.)

Wait, 25-30 garlic cloves? Is that a typo down there in the recipe?

Nope. But like I said, this roast isn’t for the faint of heart.

For this recipe, find yourself a nice fat sirloin roast. Slather it in a chili-packed spice rub, douse it in olive oil, and stud it with a ridiculous number of whole garlic cloves.

Toss it into the oven for about an hour, during which time the flavor of the garlic will permeate and perfume the meat.

If you’re lucky and your garlic cloves are small enough, the cloves themselves will turn into spreadable, buttery roasted garlic. (Use small garlic cloves. Larger ones won’t cook through all the way.)

Meat flavored garlic? Garlic flavored meat? Yes, please!

Honestly? I know it’s kind of preposterous to stick all these garlic cloves into one little roast, but the whole thing is utterly delicious.

Choose smallish garlic cloves

I copped out and bought peeled garlic at my market. You could certainly peel the cloves yourself, though, if you’d prefer.

Be sure to choose cloves that are on the thinner side. Like I said, you want them to cook through and get perfectly melt-y.

To the meat!

As with my Homemade Deli-Style Roast Beef, this recipe is more method than actual recipe. Keep reading. You’ll see what I mean.

Garlic-Studded Sirloin Roast with Chili Pepper Crust

1 sirloin roast, about 4-5 lbs.
25-30 small, whole peeled garlic cloves
kosher salt
ground cumin
ground chipotle
chili powder
sweet paprika
olive oil

Serves 4-6

Preheat your oven to 500 degrees. Put a rack in a roasting pan and set it aside.

Stud the roast with garlic

Grab a sharp paring knife. Put the point straight down into the meat and cut a slit that’s about an inch or so deep.

Repeat until you have about 25 or 30 little slits.

I like to cut them in rows, which makes a nice pattern of garlic when you slice the roast.

When you’ve made all your slits, grab a small clove of garlic. Nip off the ends if they’re a little woody. Stuff it into one of the slits. (You may need to cut it open a little more…just fool around with it until you get the garlic to slide in.)

Push the little guy in…

…until he disappears. Repeat until each slit has a clove of garlic nestled in it.

Season the roast

This is the part that’s kind of imprecise. Sprinkle the roast with kosher salt.

Dust the top of the roast with a layer of each of the other spices (cumin, chipotle, chili powder, and sweet paprika).

Your roast should look about like this, give or take.

Drizzle the roast with olive oil.

Rub the olive oil all over the roast. It will combine with the spices and make a lovely red paste.

Turn it over and rub the spice paste on all sides of the meat.

Don’t forget to get the ends.

And, voila!

Roast the beast!

Set the seasoned roast on the rack in your prepared pan.

Pop it into your preheated 500-degree oven.

Roast for 20 minutes at 500 degrees, then drop the heat to 300 degrees (leave the roast in the oven the whole time) and roast for about another 30 minutes.

How do you know when it’s done?

Use a meat thermometer, and yank it out of the oven at one of the following temperatures, depending on how you like your meat cooked.

120 F = rare
126 F = medium-rare
134 F = medium
150 F = medium-well
160 F = well done

Tent a piece of foil over the roast loosely for about 10 minutes. (If you cut it immediately when it comes out of the oven, it will lose a lot of juice.)

Slice the roast, serve, and enjoy!

Slice the roast thinly across the grain.

(Scroll down here for a picture of what “across the grain” looks like.)

Enjoy!

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