Oy Vey! Here I am. Another Hanukkah has come and I have to make the brisket because my son decided to marry a shiksa. And he had the chutzpah to come up to me and ask me to make one. “Oh, mom, you make such a good brisket. I really loved it during all of our Hanukkah meals growing up.” A real pain in my tuchus, you know? I told him, I’m not making the brisket this year. I made the gefilte fish at Passover. I’m already making the latkes and talking the Rabbi into coming to our dinner. If I make one more dish, I’ll be schvitzing from all the overwork. You know, the Maccabees had eight days of light, but, because I told my son no, all I had eight days was eight days of kvetching. Oy Vey. And I’m a mensch, okay? I love mitzvot and even though I originally said no to my son, how could I keep saying no to my little bubeleh? Just thinking about the man he’s grown up into is making me all verklempt. So I said “Fine, I’ll make the brisket.” You know, I’ve had 40 years of this mishegoss, what’s one more? Now I have to shlep all the way to the butchers and back. And to the bakery to buy some sufganiyot. And I have to get my hair done in the middle because I can’t look like a schlub. But, you know, as I said before, I’m a mensch. What can I do?
This brisket, if you really want to do it right, you’re going to have been taught by your bubbe. But, for those of you whose families didn’t make an investment in the most important skill in life (using brisket to bring families together, but most importantly to win favor with Rabbis), you’re going to like this recipe. This is not for the weak of heart. You’re going to be covered in schmutz by the end. Head to toe. You’ll be schvitzing and, if you’re a klutz, you’re not going to make it. I would advise you to give up now. You’re going to try, but you’re going to end up with bupkes. Maybe next year. Probably not though.
You’re going to need meat from the best butcher within a 20 mile radius. You’re going to need seasonings and vegetables. You know, all hands on deck, including God. You’ll be saying “Baruch atah adonai, please help me make this brisket.” But, you know, even though it’s a pain in the tuchus, you’ll end up with a real beautiful dish. Not some little nosh like the lazy people who bring kugel. You’ll have made a real meal. Well, my kids are calling and asking me if I can bring a Challah too, so here’s the recipe for the brisket. Oy Vey! I’m going to need some Manischewitz after this!
Ingredients
- One 5-pound Whole Brisket
- 2 teaspoons salt
- Freshly ground pepper to taste
- 1 garlic clove, peeled
- 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 3 onions, peeled and diced
- One 10-ounce can tomatoes, undrained
- 2 cups red wine
- 2 stalks celery with the leaves, chopped
- 1 bay leaf
- 1 sprig fresh thyme
- 1 sprig fresh rosemary
- 1/4 cup chopped parsley
- 6 to 8 carrots, peeled and sliced on the diagonal
Directions
- Preheat the oven to 325°F (160°C).
- Pat the meat dry. Sprinkle it with salt and pepper and rub it with garlic. Heat the oil in a Dutch oven or large skillet, add the brisket, and sear on both sides. Remove from the heat.
- Place the onions in a large casserole or Dutch oven. Top with the beef, fatty side up. Add the tomatoes and their juices, the red wine, celery, bay leaf, thyme, and rosemary to the casserole.
- Cover and bake for about 3 hours, basting often with pan juices. Uncover, add the parsley and carrots, and bake, uncovered, until the carrots are cooked, about 30 minutes more. To test for doneness, stick a fork in the flat (thinner or leaner end of the brisket). When there is a light pull on the fork as it is removed from the meat, it is “fork tender.”
- Refrigerate the brisket in its pan juices, or gravy, overnight so that the fat can be easily skimmed from the surface before serving.
- Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Trim all the visible fat from the cold meat. Place it, with what was the fat side down, on a cutting board. Look for the grain—that is, the muscle lines of the brisket—and, with a sharp knife, cut across the grain. Place the sliced meat in a roasting pan. Skim the fat from the surface of the gravy and warm it over medium heat. Pour the hot gravy over the meat, cover, and reheat in the oven for 45 minutes.