Doubtless Thomas

I am the oldest of three children. My sister and I are separated by only sixteen months, but for me it was enough to always feel like a protector. I took her to a high school dance once and had to stand up to a gang leader who had fancied her, without considering the consequences of my defiance (I had to employ the best of my diplomatic talents to ensure the company of a friend who was respected in the “underworld” community to accompany us home when six or seven angry men surrounded us after the dance).

When she started dating a suave, sweet talking, magic weaving, not to be trusted guy that was my boyfriend for about three and a half days some time before, I slapped her, trying to get her out of his spiderweb hold. It did not work. They stayed together for several years.

She went through several relationships, and I traveled up and down with her. It seemed as if our lives were unravelling at the same speed, at different times, with similar intensity. She was living in Frankfurt, Germany, and I was in the U.S. The telephone was the only connection we had. And back then, it was an expensive one. We sped through those brief, expensive, priceless minutes as if we were being charged for the very breath that carried our love across the Atlantic. At times I cajoled, at times I begged, at times I threatened. And every time it worked. I managed to be the protector she needed. My sister is a stubborn woman, but over time I have convinced her that she should listen to me, at least sometimes.

Several years ago she met Thomas. Online. I was teasing her, calling her the “copycat”, because I met my husband online. This time I did not have to interfere. I did not have to sharpen my claws to fight on her behalf. My instincts were telling me to back off and leave them alone. And I did. As a reward for my exemplary behavior, I have a brother-in-law who is like a real brother to me. And he can take care of her.

Thomas did not have an easy life. His parents were divorced and he was raised by his grandmother in a tiny village on the Rhine river. He would wake up early in the morning to work in the garden, before going to school. In September and October the school became a secondary concern: there were grapes, ripened by the minute, ready to be picked. He loved the life he lived and he resented it at the same time. He yearned for freedom.

As soon as he graduated, he bid his grandmother goodbye and took off for the world. He spent several years as a member of the road crew for some of the most famous rock bands. He traveled the world and lived life on the edge, experiencing all the highs and the lows life had to offer. He got married to a nurse in Berlin and sired two sons with her. When she broke his heart leaving him for his best friend, he ran back to the village where he grew up, seeking solace at the hearth that nourished him for years.

That’s when my sister met him. Alone, hurt, tending his elderly Grossmuter’s garden, greeting every ugly tuber he had to dig up as if he had to pay a penance for being away for so long.

As Thomas said at the day of their wedding, it was love at first sight for him and me. We recognized each other as kindred spirits. That day I metaphorically carried her over and gingerly placed her into his arms, looking into his eyes for assurance. The warmth and love I saw completely disarmed me. For the first time in my life I do not feel obligated to hover over my sister’s life. There is somebody who loves her as much as I do and he can protect her for me.

Thomas grew up on a farm. He yearns to go back to the farm. My sister is a city girl, finding herself at ease wearing designer boots and feeling European sophisticated chic. Even though she has a degree in Agricultural Engineering, she is completely removed from the dirt and seedlings, and does not feel the excitement of a summer vegetable bounty.  But Thomas and I plot behind her back. One of these days, when all of my children are dispersed to college, we would all move to Serbia, to Father’s “ranch”. Husband can write on the porch overlooking the city. My sister can make coffee and read. Thomas and I are going to bury our hands into the warm dirt and turn that piece of land into a paradise. Each fruit tree will be pruned with Teutonic precision, the vineyard on the slope will yield the grapes that will become our small wine label, the plums overflowing their trees will keep us in slivovitz. It seems my new brother and I shall have the lions share of the labor so those stories and that coffee had better be good.

I love my brother-in-law. He always has a smile hiding in his face, and his laugh is infectious. He cannot enter a house without looking for things to fix, which endears my mother. He is adventurous and fearless willing to try new foods which endears him to my epicurean father. He somehow manages to enjoy metal bands like Rammstein to the delight of the College Kritter. She calls him “the magic man.” He runs on adrenaline and dreams of swimming with great white sharks off the coast of California. And he loves to cook. He respects the land and the produce. He does not take shortcuts. He enjoys the process as much as the finished product.

This is his recipe for Oxtail Soup. It is not a soup, really, more of a stew, or a paprikash. It came from Thomas’s Grossmuter. It is time-consuming, but so worth it. Hearty, warm, spicy, and comforting. Everything that embodies my brother-in-law, Thomas, as cheesy as it sounds.

GERMAN OXTAIL SOUP:

All the ingredients were approximate, and I tried to measure the right amounts.

Ingredients:

• 3 Tbsp lard, bacon grease or butter
• 2-3 lb ox tail bones
• 1-2 lb beef shank
• 1 – 2 leeks, cleaned and sliced
• 1 – 2 onions, chopped
• 3-4 carrots, sliced
• 1/2 of a celery root (celeriac) or 3-4 stalks celery, cleaned or peeled and chopped
• 1 parsnip, peeled and chopped
• 2 Tbsp tomato paste (I love the German spicy tomato paste)
• 1 Tbsp paprika
• 1 cup dry, red wine
• 1-2 tsp salt
• freshly ground pepper
• 2 bay leaves
• 5 whole cloves
• 5 juniper berries
• 1 stalk fresh thyme or 1 tsp dried thyme leaves
• hot paprika (optional – I did not use it, the tomato paste gave just the right amount of spice)
• 1 Tbsp flour (optional)
• Madeira or dry sherry
• Fresh or dried parsley

Directions:

Wash the meat and pat dry. Heat the grease in a large Dutch oven or skillet and brown the meat on all sides at medium heat.

Meanwhile, clean and chop the vegetables. If you can’t find parsley root, celeriac and leek increase the celery, onions and carrots. Remove the beef from the pan and brown the vegetables for several minutes, until soft. Add the tomato paste and the paprika, and stir for another minute. Add the red wine and deglaze the pan, scraping up all the browned bits. Add the meat back into the vegetables. Put the whole spices in a piece of cheesecloth, tie into a bundle with kitchen twine, and add to the soup along with hot paprika, if using. Season with salt and pepper. Add enough water to cover everything and let it simmer for 2 – 4 hours or more on the low heat.

When the meat is fork tender, remove to a platter to cool, and then chop into bite sized pieces. Discard the rest of the bones and cartilage. You can strain the broth and discard the vegetables for a smoother soup. In that case mix the flour with some broth to make a slurry. Pour into the gently simmering soup, stirring constantly to avoid lumps. Simmer for 10 minutes. Add the Madeira or sherry and return the meat to the pot. Taste and adjust the seasonings.

I opted for more rustic stew and left the veggies in. If you chose to do that, pull the spice sack out and puree the vegetables just for a second using the immersion blender (it should still be robust with chunks of vegetables). Add the Madeira or sherry, and put the meat back. Taste and adjust the seasonings.

Serve with spaetzle or boiled potatoes.

This is my contribution to Hearth and Soul blog event, hosted by Girlichef and some other wonderful bloggers.

Stephanie of Wasabimon asked for different oxtail recipes. Head over to her blog for a wonderful oxtail soup.

“Come join Soup-a-Palooza at TidyMom and Dine and Dish sponsored by Bush’s Beans, Hip Hostess, Pillsbury and Westminster Crackers”