On Enthusiastic Amateurism + Vaguely Asian Short Ribs
Hobbies, working muscles, and gorgeous sunrises.
A staple of resume writing, beyond clearly and succinctly detailing your professional experiences in a manner which is both appealing and intriguing to a potential employer, is the dutiful listing of “hobbies.” One must take great care to accurately curate a list of such hobbies to both clarify and expand upon one’s personal interests (e.g., “swimming, hiking, cooking, hunting”) while simultaneously piquing the interest of the reader, enticing them to reach out to learn more (e.g.., “world record relay crossings of both the English and North Channels”).
Since my first resume, probably written my sophomore year of high school as an assignment, maybe, I have dutifully listed two hobbies on my resume in every iteration: reading and writing. Both are things I love1 and both are things I have consistently been doing since from about the time I learned how to do them2. Imagine carrying these things3 with you for nigh on three decades4. Remarkable to think about.
Of these two avocations, reading is the one I do more often5. I’m usually reading one or two books6 at a time7, am subscribed to several magazines8, and, as I’ve mentioned before, also read a number more newsletters here on Substack9. One I quite enjoy is
, which is written by David Coggins.Coggins is first and foremost a writer, an author of books and contributor to all sorts of terrific publications. He writes about ice, about fishing, about travel, about sartorial choices, about decorating your apartment with oriental rugs. With some regularity, though, he will have an “open forum” post, where readers can pose questions to him. Recently, he got this one, with his response below it.
I love the sentiment that he expresses here: striving to be “an enthusiastic amateur” on the topics about which he writes. Seeing it put that way, that’s how I feel about my own writing. I’m not a professional chef10, nor am I a professional philosopher, athlete, farmer, hunter, writer11, photographer, crafter, nor fisherman. But I do love all of these things, love them as hobbies, as parts of my whole. They’re the things that comprise the “Personal” section of my metaphorical resume. And, like Coggins, I love writing about these things and hope that when I do, I can help bring some “recognition of what’s at stake” about the greater experience. I may not produce any more in my garden than a few meals worth of veggies each summer, but I hope that by making the effort to grow anything — and writing about it — I can also make the connection to why it’s so important to know where your food comes from. I might not compete on the professional sporting circuit, but I hope that constantly striving to challenge myself athletically, I can convey the importance of a healthy mind, body, and spirit12.
Very few of us are professionals in any one thing, let alone several. And that’s okay — it’s the beauty of amateurism that we can dabble in all sorts of pursuits. Some end up being fleeting, others become integral parts of our beings. I’m more than happy to consider myself a jack of many things, master of none13.
So there’s my professional sermonizing for the week, let’s transition over to the amateur cookery. Here’s a recipe we’ve been enjoying lately, a vaguely pan-Asian take on short ribs. As you’ll see in the photos, I used a mix of short ribs and cut shank bones14 from the bison we got last year15. You could really use just about any “working” cut you have on hand — and it would probably be even pretty good with a slow-cooked flank steak, ropa vieja-style.
Let’s get simmering.
Lightly salt 2-3 pounds of short ribs for at least 30 minutes and up to 24 hours. At least 4 hours before you’re ready to eat, heat a Dutch oven to hot and give the meat a hard sear on all sides. Remove the meat from the pan, and add some sliced shallot16, crushed garlic, and one or two diced pears. Let this cook in the pan with the rendered juice from the meat until browned, and then add to the pan a mix of roughly a cup of soy sauce, a few tablespoons of molasses17, a healthy pour of sesame oil, and a few tablespoons of chili crisps. Stir this into the vegetable mixture, and then add back in the meat.
Add to the mix 2-3 cups of bone broth or stock, enough to thin out the mixture, and bring to a boil for several minutes, then cut the heat and let simmer for 4-6 hours, until the meat is tender and sauce is reduced by about half18.
Serve over rice, or however you’d normally serve braised meat.
And there you go, some braised meat that tastes like you ordered out from your favorite Chinese/Japanese/Thai/Korean/Hot Pot restaurant. Feel free to play around with the braising liquid as you see fit — you could incorporate some Chinese cooking wine into it, some sake, swap out the chili crisp for a different Asian chili sauce — really, whatever floats your boat. There are no rules when you are an amateur and you are enthusiastic. This is your chance to go wild.
I’ll send you here into your weekends. January is over halfway through, we’re almost on to February, a dark and dreary month. Make the most of the crisp mornings with shining sun — get outside and soak it in. You won’t regret it.
And as I’ve alluded to before, are the sole reasons why I majored in English in college.
I have written about all of this before — about reading, about writing, about hobbies — but newsletter writing is a flat circle and there are only so many things worth writing about.
That’s a Tim O’Brien allusion, by the way.
I really should be better at both by now, huh?
I sit down to write this newsletter once a week, and edit it sporadically throughout. A few hours a week, maybe. I’m pondering writing a novel — I’ve drafted the rough outline — and I write a few poems a month.
I count audiobooks here as well, though I know that can be contentious amongst “serious” readers. But, reading is not something you need to take too seriously, unless you want to. I listen to audiobooks while driving and specifically choose ones I don’t mind if I’m only processing 75% or so of what I hear.
I keep one book downstairs on the coffee table and one upstairs on my bedside table. This allows me, in moments of calm, to have a physical book accessible to pick up. I also usually have something on my Kindle, which gives me an option to read on the go.
I don’t think Mrs. CWD would be terrifically sad if we stopped receiving those in the mail, leading to fewer laying around on our coffee table.
For those who only get this newsletter via email, Substack is the platform upon which Cow We Doin’ is managed.
I’ll tell anyone who asks that Nana CWD didn’t even let us in the kitchen growing up.
Though I have been paid to both write and to exercise, so not all of that is entirely true if you rely on the Miriam-Webster Dictionary for your definitions.
These conveyances are meant just as much for myself (and for Kiddo and the Warthog, when they are old enough to read them) as they are for you, the reader. So just keep that in mind when I get to rambling too much!
And I can always keep trying to get better at those that resonate.
Yes, this is a cut also known as “osso buco” and I realize it’s the second time we’ve used it in as many weeks. I have no regrets.
Matt, I’m devastated to report that these were the very last cuts we had left (and we finished off the ground bison earlier in the week).
and I are splitting a cow from a local farmer, so we will be bison-less in the near term… which, as I type this out, I realize gives me a little anxiety!Onion works, too.
Brown sugar works in a pinch.
If you’re liquid is reducing too quickly, you can always thin it out with more stock or with water.
I am glad you gave an alternative to molasses. I have never had molasses in my kitchen, unless it were taffy.
Regarding Footnote #10....Clarification: You were allowed in the kitchen. You just could not use it to cook, especially after I found you making recipe concoctions with toothpaste, shampoo, liquid soap, and assorted plastic toys in your bathroom sink at age 8. You fostered your own curiosity! Who needed a working kitchen?
I love you, child of mine.
I have stopped carrying my Kindle for trips to the coffee house. I take a REAL book, and I've had some great conversations because of it. Even the baristas will ask about the cover and why I chose it, leading to a super interesting conversation about my early retirement and her innocent envy of same. Quite a good reminder that there are nice things about it, as well as the inevitable doubt over my decision. I like being the white haired sage who reads old style. 😉. And, although my lovely avatar is a cow, your Asian beef short ribs sound FAB!