This is the story of a veal chop. Actually its a story of two veal chops; or, I guess you could say, two stories: one happy and one sad. Im here to make sure that Eat Like a Man readers only experience the happy one.
Like all meat stories, this one begins with the meat itself. No meat dish can be better than the meat its made of. This makes cooking an increasingly high-risk business as you go up the ladder of creaton. If you screw up some C-Town chuck steaks, who cares? You can buy another for the cost of a box of Oreos. But this was no chuck steak; it was the most precious of all non-Japanese meats, a thick, gorgeous veal chop on the bone, raised by Mennonite farmers in rural Pennsylvania, and distributed by New York meat messiah Pat LaFrieda. A chop of such surpassing quality and such astronomical price that it literally costs as much to eat in some restaurants as whole meals elsewhere. The parmigiano version at Carbone comes in at an even $50; the same chop, in admittedly far grander surroundings, goes for a cool $69 at Del Posto. Despite the manifest inhumanity and cruelty required to produce white veal, its still an apex luxury cut, and one by which any Italian restaurant has to be judged. (As Joe Pescis character, mobster Nicky Santoro, rather accurately explains in Casino.)
This was therefore not a chop you want to screw up. And yet I did. The plan was to go low-high, and to bread the chop with Shake N Bake and sauté it oil and butter. Period. This I did, twice. The first time, I cut the bone off, and then bashed it as hard as I could with the bottom of the nearest pan. I thus had, if not exactly a cutlet, something flatter than the tall, narrow meat slap with which I began. I drizzled a little half and half on the thing (actually, canned evaporated milk) and shook it up in the little bag provided by Shake N Bake especially for that purpose. The foam on my butter subsided, and on a steady medium-low heat, I let it cook. I turned it at some point. I temped it, and when it was 130 in the middle, I took it out. I let it rest on a little rack, so that the bottom wouldnt get steamy and mushy against the cutting board, and then I put it on a plate. I added a drizzle of molasses-thick Massimo Bottura balsamic vinegar—the best, get it some today—and sat down with a paper napkin to eat the thing. Five minutes later I was done. But I forgot to take a picture! So I decided to have another veal chop a couple of hours later.
Having done the thing as well as it could be done, I tried to improve its preparation. And having cooked something so lovely—a delicate, florentine-gold crust striped with a single meandering line of balsamic—I set out to make it more photogenic. Naturally, both attempts were failures. I replaced the original Shake N Bake with a more upscale, artisanal product: panko Shake N Bake. I dipped it a mixture of beaten egg and light cream, then breaded it, then dipped it again, then breaded it again. I added microplaned aged parmigiano-reggiano to the surface. And, because I wanted you to see it in chop form, I neglected to either cut off the bone or to pound it out.
The result was predictable. Being thick, it didnt cook right. Tender white veal of this kind is so soft and yielding in texture that, when thick, you cant judge it accurately by the traditional method of pushing your thumb into it. Even with a meat thermometer it wasnt possible to temp it; the bone, as with any chop or bone-on cut, acts as a heat sink, and thus the meat alongside was undercooked. And unknowingly, from having left it untrimmed, I also left some nerves and sinews that connect the bone, which are even gnarlier when undercooked. Worse still, by not bashing it down, it was a more like a roast than a chop. The distance between one crust and the other was such that you could barely have both in the same bite. It was like being between two equally remote service plazas when you need to pee.
And then there was the crust. Anybody who tells you to bread things twice, or to use eggs, is out of their mind. So heavy and dense and soggy and bulky is this breading that it tends to collapse under its own weight, fracturing and falling off at the first cut. It imposed itself so grossly that the precious balsamic could barely register on the veal. So there I was, with a bunch of gray chop slices, unbreaded, of varying degrees of doneness, and big pile of grody, soggy breading lying around. It goes without saying that the precious cheese was thrown away, breading fodder for my meat massacre. Sigh. I gave the breading to my dog and ate the slices myself, fried off in the old butter. (Which was delicious, as it happens.)
My apologies go out to the farmers, Pat LaFrieda, and most of all, the golden calf at which all veal lovers worship. I can only hope that others learn from my tragic errors.Advertisement – Continue Reading Below
The USDA recommends cooking whole muscle veal cuts like veal steaks, roasts and chops to 145 degrees F (medium rare), 160 degrees F (medium), or 170 degrees F (well done). We always prefer meat on the rare side, so 145 degrees F is what we aim for when cooking veal.
This is the story of a veal chop. Actually its a story of two veal chops; or, I guess you could say, two stories: one happy and one sad. Im here to make sure that Eat Like a Man readers only experience the happy one.
This was therefore not a chop you want to screw up. And yet I did. The plan was to go low-high, and to bread the chop with Shake N Bake and sauté it oil and butter. Period. This I did, twice. The first time, I cut the bone off, and then bashed it as hard as I could with the bottom of the nearest pan. I thus had, if not exactly a cutlet, something flatter than the tall, narrow meat slap with which I began. I drizzled a little half and half on the thing (actually, canned evaporated milk) and shook it up in the little bag provided by Shake N Bake especially for that purpose. The foam on my butter subsided, and on a steady medium-low heat, I let it cook. I turned it at some point. I temped it, and when it was 130 in the middle, I took it out. I let it rest on a little rack, so that the bottom wouldnt get steamy and mushy against the cutting board, and then I put it on a plate. I added a drizzle of molasses-thick Massimo Bottura balsamic vinegar—the best, get it some today—and sat down with a paper napkin to eat the thing. Five minutes later I was done. But I forgot to take a picture! So I decided to have another veal chop a couple of hours later.
Having done the thing as well as it could be done, I tried to improve its preparation. And having cooked something so lovely—a delicate, florentine-gold crust striped with a single meandering line of balsamic—I set out to make it more photogenic. Naturally, both attempts were failures. I replaced the original Shake N Bake with a more upscale, artisanal product: panko Shake N Bake. I dipped it a mixture of beaten egg and light cream, then breaded it, then dipped it again, then breaded it again. I added microplaned aged parmigiano-reggiano to the surface. And, because I wanted you to see it in chop form, I neglected to either cut off the bone or to pound it out.
And then there was the crust. Anybody who tells you to bread things twice, or to use eggs, is out of their mind. So heavy and dense and soggy and bulky is this breading that it tends to collapse under its own weight, fracturing and falling off at the first cut. It imposed itself so grossly that the precious balsamic could barely register on the veal. So there I was, with a bunch of gray chop slices, unbreaded, of varying degrees of doneness, and big pile of grody, soggy breading lying around. It goes without saying that the precious cheese was thrown away, breading fodder for my meat massacre. Sigh. I gave the breading to my dog and ate the slices myself, fried off in the old butter. (Which was delicious, as it happens.)
My apologies go out to the farmers, Pat LaFrieda, and most of all, the golden calf at which all veal lovers worship. I can only hope that others learn from my tragic errors.Advertisement – Continue Reading Below
It is easy to serve your family this nutritious—and delicious—product. You can successfully cook veal many ways: sautéed, braised, stewed, stir-fried, broiled—or on the grill. When cooking ground veal, add a small amount of fat to prevent dryness. When sautéing, pan-frying or stir-frying cutlets, use medium-high heat to avoid overcooking. Stewed or braised veal should be browned slowly to let the flavor develop. Lightly cover to retain steam and simmer gently over very low heat. To ensure your veal is tender, juicy and flavorful, cook at 160º. So that your meal is not overcooked, use a good meat thermometer. Or, you can make a small slit near the center of boneless cuts or near the bone. Medium veal is light pink in the center.
How to Cook Veal Steaks Perfectly With Fadila’s Kitchen
FAQ
Is it OK for veal to be a little pink?
Does veal need to be cooked through?
Is it OK to eat veal medium rare?
Can you eat veal raw?
Is veal easy to cook?
There’s no need to be. Veal is easy to cook, and you should make it a part of your cooking routine. Veal can be pan-seared, grilled, sautéed, braised, broiled or stewed, depending on the cut. Choose the right method for the veal cut, and remember one rule: do not overcook this lean meat. Read on to learn how to cook each type of veal cut.
How do you cook veal?
Read on to learn how to cook each type of veal cut. There are two basic methods for cooking veal: moist or dry heat. Tender cuts like veal steak, veal chops, veal tenderloin can be cooked with dry heat; think grilling, broiling, or pan searing.
Should you eat veal?
It’s time you added veal to your weekly dinner rotation. Veal is tender, leaner than poultry, has just as much protein as beef (although, on average, is less expensive), and is as every bit as easy to cook at home as a steak or pork chop. Because of the stigma of raising caged animals, many customers shy away from veal.
What temperature should veal be cooked to?
Because veal is so lean, it needs a little fat (don’t trim what fat there is!) added, like bacon or duck fat, to keep things juicy. The USDA recommends cooking whole muscle veal cuts like veal steaks, roasts and chops to 145 degrees F (medium rare), 160 degrees F (medium), or 170 degrees F (well done).