Veal Forestiere

Wow. So a week has flown by and while I believe I've received pretty good marks as an employee, volunteer, book worm, traveler, and friend, I've just about failed when it comes to my chipper, suburban wife role. I have been blissfully undomestic. And I have to admit, there were relaxing moments on the couch when I cherished it. The house didn't get its weekly scrub down, I served waffles and scrambled eggs for dinner on Wednesday night, the milk in the refrigerator just turned sour, and I actually bought salad dressing and topped off Friday night's dinner with it, which promptly produced negative reactions from Peter and I and ended up in the garbage.

I traded in my apron, cutting boards and copper pots for other stuff: later nights at work, a much needed dose of Quinlin and Staley, a quaint Italian bistro in Atlanta, ball parks, Pilsen tacos, and time spent on the couch reading two delectable books in a row.

Whenever my Dad had one of those weeks - where the number of evenings dining out trumped the number of evenings dining in, he would recommit to his kitchen with an elaborate meal. Usually it happened on a Sunday. There would be four, heck, even five courses on the menu. Many times the main course was veal: prepared in his signature schnitzel, Forestiere, Parmesan or Marsala styles. Perhaps sides of mashed potatoes and green beans. A salad to the right of our plate. Bread to the left. And a homemade pie to round out the affair.  It was a glorious feast, filling and inspiring a young chef thoughtfully plotting her future family dinners.

I took my Dad's lead tonight and I recommitted - to grocery runs after work, to careful waltzes from burner to burner in our miniature kitchen, and to filling our House with sweet aromas that lovingly respond to Peter when he says, 'Honey, I'm home.' This evening, I did it with four pieces of veal, Forestiere style. Mashed potatoes and green beans on the side.

Okay, there was no pie. It's Monday night after all. And I'm midway through the trashiest book I could ever imagine - one that I really cannot believe millions and millions of women have read and are currently reading. But my commentary there can wait.

Until then, bon appetit. 

Lo.

Veal Forestiere 

4 pieces veal (between 12 and 16 ounces)
1 egg
1 cup flour
salt, pepper
2 tablespoons butter
1 shallot, minced
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 cup sweet vermouth
1/2 cup veal stock (or you can substitute beef stock)
2 cups crimini mushrooms, sliced

In a small bowl, beat egg. In another small bowl, combine flour, salt and pepper. Dip each piece of veal in egg, then flour mixture, set aside.

Melt butter over medium to medium high heat. Brown the veal in the butter, about two minutes per side. Remove. You might need to do this in two batches if the pan isn't big enough.

If needed, add a little more butter to the pan. Saute garlic and shallot for about two minutes. Add vermouth to deglaze the pan. Add chicken stock. Place the veal back in the pan, making sure it's evenly spaced. Top with mushrooms. Cover pan and let simmer over low heat for 45 minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with mashed potatoes and green beans.