In order for this recipe to work properly, let the roast sit (wrapped) for one to two hours outside of the refrigerator so that it comes to room temperature before cooking. Otherwise, it will take a lot longer to cook at the low heat called for in this recipe.
Ingredients
1.5kg of beef shoulder or boneless chuck roast (look for a piece that is well marbled with fat for best results)
2 Tbsp olive or grapeseed oil
Salt, pepper, italian seasoning to taste
2 large yellow onions, thickly sliced, lengthwise (root to tip), about 4 cups sliced onion
4 cloves of garlic, peeled
1/2 cup of red wine
1 bay leaf
Several carrots, peeled and cut lengthwise
Method
1. Brown the roast on all sides: Use a thick-bottomed covered pot (oven-proof if you intend to cook in oven), such as a dutch oven, just large enough to hold roast and vegetables. Heat 2 Tbsp of oil on medium high heat (hot enough to sear the meat).
Pat the roast dry with paper towels. Sprinkle and rub salt, pepper, and Italian seasoning all over the meat.
2. Brown roast in pot, all over, several minutes on each side. Don’t move the roast while a side is browning, or it won’t brown well.
3. Brown the onions, add garlic, carrots: When roast is browned, remove from pan and set on a plate. Add the onions to the pan and cook for about 5 to 10 minutes, until they begin to brown. Add the garlic and carrots to sit on top of the onions.
4. Add roast, red wine, bay leaf, cover, simmer on lowest possible setting: Set the roast on top of the onions, garlic and carrots. Add 1/2 cup of red wine. Add the bay leaf.
5. Cover. Bring to simmer and then adjust the heat down to the lowest heat possible to maintain a low simmer when covered (we cook our roast on the warm setting of our electric range)*. (If cooking in the oven, bring to a simmer first on the stovetop, then put in the oven, start the temp at 180C for 15 minutes, then drop it to 120C for the next hour, and then to 110C after that.)
6. Cook several hours until fork tender: Cook for 3 1/2 to 4 1/2 hours, or longer, until meat is tender. (If you are using a pressure cooker, cut the time by half).
After cooking 3 1/2 hours. Note how much liquid has been released by the meat. This comes from slow cooking at a very low temperature. If your pot roast is too dry, make sure the pan you are using has a tight fitting lid and that you are cooking at the lowest possible heat to maintain the low simmering. Suggest serving with green beans and potatoes *If you use a gas range, you may find difficulty getting the flame low enough. A tip I recently read in Cook’s Illustrated suggests tightly rolling up some aluminum foil, shaping it into a skinny donut, and putting that on top of the burner to create a little more distance between the range and the pan. If you have one of those high BTU ranges, I recommend cooking the roast in the oven instead.
This essay was, I think, originally in Time magazine. I remember it being pasted on the wall in our computer room. For some reason it popped into my head with some force earlier today and I had to find it.
National Handwriting Day has passed without parades. But the occasion may deserve to be celebrated, belatedly, with an updating of part of The Wind in the Willows’, a new chapter in the life of Toad of Toad Hall
Toad gave up pen and pencil years ago, when he discovered the Smith-Corona manual portable typewriter. Toad loved his Smith-Corona. He played upon it like a flamboyant pianist. Now he massaged the keyboard tenderly through a quiet phrase, now he banged it operatically, thundering along to the chinging bell at the end of the line, where his left arm would abruptly fire into midair with a flourish and fling home the carriage return.
If Toad ever put pen to paper, it was reluctantly, to scribble in the margin of a college text book (‘Hmmmmm’ or ‘Sez who?’ or ‘Ha!’), or to write a check. Over the years, Toad’s handwriting atrophied until it was almost illegible. Who cared? Sonatas of language, symphonies, flowed from the Smith-Corona.
At length, Toad moved on to an electric model, an IBM Selectric, and grew more rapturous still. Toad said the machine was like a small private printing press: The thoughts shot from his brain through his fingers and directly into flawless print.
Then one winter afternoon, Toad came upon the marvel that changed his life forever. Toad found the word processor. It was to his Selectric as a Ferrari to a gypsy’s cart. Toad now thought that his old writing machines were clattering relics of the industrial revolution.
Toad processed words like a demon. His fingers flew across the keys, and the words arrayed themselves on a magic screen before him. Here was a miracle that imitated the very motions of his brain, that teleported paragraphs here and there – no, there! – as quickly as a mind flicking through alternatives. Prose with the speed of light, and lighter than air! Toad could lift ten pounds of verbiage, at a whim, from his first page and transport it to the last, and then (hmmm) back again.
A happy life, until one day, Toad, when riding his bicycle in the park, took a disastrous spill. Left thumb broken, arm turned to a fossil in a cast, out of which his fingers twiddled uselessly, Toad faced the future. He tried one-handing his word processor, his hand jerking over the keyboard like a chicken in a barnyard.
It was no use. There is no going back in pleasure. “Bother!” said Toad. He picked up a No. 1 Eberhard Faber pencil. He eyed it with the despair of a suddenly toothless gourmand confronting a life of strained carrots and peas. He found a schoolboy’s lined notebook and started to write.
The words came haltingly, in misshapen clusters. Toad’s fingers lunged and jabbed and oversteered. When he paused to reread a sentence, he found that he could not decipher it. The language came out Etruscan.
Yet Toad perforce persisted. It had been years since he had formally and respectfully addressed blank paper with only a pen or pencil in hand. He felt unarmed, vulnerable. He thought of final exams long years ago – the fields of rustling blue book pages, the universal low frantic scratching of pens, the smell of sour collegiate anguish.
Toad drove his pencil onward. Grudgingly, he thought, This is rather interesting. His handwriting, spasmodic at first, began to settle after a time into rhythmic, regular strokes, growing stronger, like an oarsman on a long haul.
Words come differently this way, thought Toad. To write a word is to make a thought an object. A thought flying around like electrons in the atmosphere of the brain suddenly coalesces into an object on the page (or computer screen). But when written in longhand, the word is a differently and more personally styled object than when it is arrayed in linear file, each R like every other R. It is not an art form, God knows, in Toad script, not Japanese calligraphy. Printed (typed) words march in uniform, standardized, cloned shapes done by assembly line. But now, thought Toad, as I write this down in pencil, the words look like ragtag militia, irregulars shambling across the page, out of step, slovenly but distinctive.
Toad reflected. What he saw on the penciled page was himself, all right, not just the content of the words but the physical shape and flow of thought. Some writers do not like to see so much of themselves on the page and prefer to objectify the words through a writing machine. Toad for a moment accused himself of sentimentalizing handwriting, as if it were home-baked bread or hand-cranked ice cream. He accused himself of erecting a cathedral of enthusiasm around his handicap.
At length Toad could see his own changes of mood in the handwriting. He could read haste when he had hurried. He thought that handwriting would make a fine lie-detector test, or a foolproof drunkometer. Handwriting is civilization’s casual encephalogram.
Writing in longhand does change one’s style, Toad came to believe, a subtle change, of pace, of rhythm. Sentences in longhand seemed to take on some of the sinuosities of script. As he read his pages, Toad considered: The whole toad is captured here.
L’ecriture, c’est l’homme (Handwriting is the man). Or:L’ecriture, c’est le crapaud; (Handwriting is the toad). What collectors pay for is the great writer’s manuscript, the relic of his actual touch, like a saint’s bone or lock of hair. What will we pay in future years for a great writer’s computer printouts? All the evidence of his emendations, his confusions and moods, will have vanished into hyperspace, shot there by the Delete key.
Toad found himself seduced, in love, scribbling away in the transports of a new passion. Toad was always a fanatic, of course, an absolutist. He bought the fanciest fountain pen. His word processor went first into a corner, then into a closet with the old IBM.
Toad thought of Henry James. For decades, James wandered Europe and the United States, staying in hotels or in friends’ houses. He was completely mobile. He needed only pen and paper to write his usual six hours a day. Then in middle age, he got writer’s cramp. He bought a typewriter, and, of course, needed a servant to operate the thing. So now James was more and more confined to his come in Sussex, pacing the room, dictating to the typist and the clacking machine. James became a prisoner of progress.
Toad, liberated, bounded off in the other direction. Light of heart, he took to the open road, encumbered by nothing heavier than a notebook and a pen. Pausing on a hilltop now and then, he wrote long letters to Ratty and Mole, and folded them into the shape of paper air-planes, and sent them sailing off on the breeze.
Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.
Big-city living could be a recipe for happiness(Image: Nomadic Luxury/Getty)
The way we live is mostly down to accidents of history. So what if we thought it through properly?
IN JUST a few thousand years, we humans have created a remarkable civilisation: cities, transport networks, governments, vast economies full of specialised labour and a host of cultural trappings. It all just about works, but it’s hardly a model of rational design – instead, people in each generation have done the best they could with what they inherited from their predecessors. As a result, we’ve ended up trapped in what, in retrospect, look like mistakes. What sensible engineer, for example, would build a sprawling, low-density megalopolis like Los Angeles on purpose?
Suppose we could try again. Imagine that Civilisation 1.0 evaporated tomorrow, leaving us with unlimited manpower, a willing populace and – most important – all the knowledge we’ve accumulated about what works, what doesn’t, and how we might avoid the errors we got locked into last time. If you had the chance to build Civilisation 2.0 from scratch, what would you do differently?
Redesigning civilisation is a tall order, and a complete blueprint would require many volumes, not just a few magazine pages – even if everybody agreed on everything. But, undaunted,New Scientistset out to discover what might be on the table, by seeking provocative ideas that challenge what we take for granted. The result is a recipe for overhauling how we live, get around, and organise our societies – as well as reconsidering our approach to concepts such as religion, democracy and even time. Dreaming of a new civilisation is more than a thought experiment: the answers highlight what ismost in need of a rethink, and hint at bold repairs that might be possible today. Take cities, for starters. Historically, they have generally arisen near resources that were important at the time – say harbours, farmland or minerals – and then grown higgledy-piggledy. Thus San Francisco developed on a superb harbour and got a boost from a mid-19th century gold rush, while Paris grew from an easily defended island on a major river. How would we design cities without the constraints of historical development? In many ways, the bigger cities are, the better. City dwellers have, on average, a smaller environmental footprint than those who live in smaller towns or rural areas (New Scientist, 18 November 2010, p 32). Indeed, when Geoffrey West of the Santa Fe Institute in New Mexico and his colleagues compared cities of different sizes, they found that doubling the size of a city leads to a 15 per cent decrease in the energy use per capita, the amount of roadway per capita, and other measures of resource use. For each doubling in size, city dwellers also benefit from a rise of around 15 per cent in income, wealth, the number of colleges, and other measures of socioeconomic well-being. Put simply, bigger cities do more with less. Of course, there are limits to a city’s size. For one thing, West notes, his study leaves out a crucial part of the equation: happiness. As cities grow, the increasing buzz that leads to greater productivity also quickens the pace of life. Crime, disease, even the average walking speed, also increase by 15 per cent per doubling of city size. “That’s not good, I suspect, for the individual,” he says. “Keeping up on that treadmill, going faster and faster, may not reflect a better quality of life.” But there’s an even more fundamental limit to how big a city can get: no matter how efficiently its inhabitants use resources, a city must have a way to get enough food, materials and fresh water to support its population. “Water is the most problematic of diminishing resources,” says Christopher Flavin, president of the Worldwatch Institute in Washington DC. “Oil can be replaced with renewable sources of energy. There are no good replacements for fresh water.” No matter what the benefits of aggregation, then, our new civilisation is likely to need many cities of diverse sizes, each matched to the ability of the local environment to supply its needs. That means no megacities in the middle of the desert, like Phoenix, Arizona. Our larger cities should be close to good water sources, preferably along coasts to give access to energy-efficient shipping, and near fertile farmland. New York, Shanghai and Copenhagen all fit that bill; Los Angeles, Delhi and Beijing fall short. Perhaps the biggest flaw of many cities is the suburb – the land-gobbling sprawl that creates communities far from shopping or commercial districts and forces people into their cars to travel. “Urban sprawl has been a huge mistake,” says Flavin. It’s been the dominant growth pattern of most North American cities, and is a major reason why Americans use so much more energy than Europeans, whose cities tend to mix residential and commercial uses in more walkable neighbourhoods. Big cities like London and New York have already solved the car problem by making driving so impractical that most residents use mass transit, or walk or cycle. But even smaller cities could achieve this with the right design.
City living
Mark Delucchi at the Institute of Transportation Studies at the University of California, Davis, envisions districts laid out concentrically around a central business hub which residents access on foot, by bicycle or with light vehicles like golf carts (see diagram). “We believe that one of the major things that keeps people out of these low-speed vehicles is that people don’t feel they function safely enough in a regular road system,” he says. To avoid that, conventional cars and trucks would be segregated on separate roadways, perhaps at the outskirts of each district. To make this layout practical, every resident would need to live within about 3 kilometres of a hub, Delucchi estimates, giving each district a population of about 50,000 to 100,000, while maintaining a pleasant living environment of low-rise buildings. Each hub could then link to other hubs through a mass transit system, allowing people easy access to other districts for work, and to the attractions of a larger city. A few cities, such as Milton Keynes in the UK and Masdar City in Abu Dhabi, already use some of these principles. Once this basic structure was established on the large scale, much of the responsibility for design within each district could then be handed over to residents and local businesses. In a way, that’s how cities used to evolve. For example, mills were set up by the river to take advantage of water power, then workers’ houses were built within walking distance, while the mill owners built on the hills where the view was best. But over the past couple of centuries, this organic evolution has been replaced by top-down planning, leading to the sterile monotony of cities such as Brasilia, Brazil, and modern tract-housing suburbs. Today, though, online social networking gives individual users tools to coordinate and cooperate like never before. “I would build the cities in an open-source way, where everybody can actually participate to decide how it’s used and how it changes,” says Carlo Ratti, an urban designer at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. “It’s a similar process to what happens in Wikipedia.” By tapping into this sort of crowd-sourcing, the residents themselves could help plan their own wiki-neighbourhood, Ratti proposes. An entrepreneur seeking to start a sandwich shop, for example, could consult residents to find out where it is most needed. Likewise, developers and residents could collaborate in deciding the size, placement and amenities for a new housing block – even, perhaps, the placement of roads and walking paths. With cities and transportation refashioned, the next problem our rebuilding society faces is energy. This one’s easy: virtually everyone agrees the answer should be renewables. “We can’t say it should all be solar or it should all be wind. It’s really critical that we have all of them,” says Lena Hansen, an electric system analyst with the Rocky Mountain Institute, an energy-efficiency think tank in Boulder, Colorado. That would help ensure a dependable supply. And instead of massive power plants, the best route would be small dispersed systems like rooftop solar panels. This decentralised generation system would be less vulnerable to extreme events like storms or attacks. Hansen estimates that building an electricity system fully based on renewables, at least with our present technology, might cost a bit more upfront than recreating the present, fossil-fuel-based system, but fuel savings would quickly recoup that. Still, it might not be such a bad thing if energy was more expensive in our new civilisation, says Joseph Tainter, a sustainability scientist at Utah State University in Logan. Since energy is a cost in most manufacturing, cheap energy makes other material goods cheaper, too. “It induces us to consume more and more – to produce more children, to consume other kinds of resources and let the society become more complex,” he says. To keep that from happening, Tainter suggests that energy prices might be kept artificially high. An alternative might be to ensure prices for all goods reflect their true environmental costs. If the price of fossil fuels reflected the actual cost of global warming, for example, simple economics would push everyone toward radical improvements in energy efficiency and alternative energy sources. While we’re tinkering with the economy, we might want to move away from using GDP as a measure of success. When nations began focusing on GDP after the second world war, it made sense to gauge an economy by its production of goods and services. “At that time, what most people needed was stuff. They needed more food, better building structures – stuff that was lacking – to make them happy,” says Ida Kubiszewskiof the Institute for Sustainable Solutions at Portland State University in Oregon. “Now times have changed. That’s no longer the limiting factor to happiness.” Instead, we may want to broaden our indicator to include environmental quality, leisure time, and human happiness – a trend a few governments are already considering. With Gross Domestic Happiness as our guide, people might be more likely to use gains in productivity to reduce their work hours rather than increase their salaries. That may sound utopian, but at least some societies routinely put greater value on happiness than on material things – such as the kingdom of Bhutan and the indigenous potlatch cultures of the west coast of North America that redistribute their property. “I don’t think it’s contrary to human nature to have a system like this,” says Robert Costanza, an ecological economist also at Portland State. After the economy, the next issue that needs to be dealt with in the new civilisation is the matter of government. We’ll assume that some form of democracy is best, though there might be some discussion about the details (see “Ultimate democracy“). But the bigger question is, how many separate states would we want? Here, not surprisingly, opinions differ widely. On one hand, humans evolved in small bands, and we still respond to challenges best in relatively small groups such as units of about 150, notes Robin Dunbar, an anthropologist at the University of Oxford. Governmental units no larger than, say, a Swiss cantonwould maintain this sense of commitment and local control in a way that is lost in larger units, he says.
New world view
On the other hand, increases in mobility, communication and technology – as well as the sheer size of the human population – mean that many of the world’s problems are now truly global. “What if there were a newspaper that was published just once a decade? What is the macroheadline of our time?” asks Paul Raskin, president of the Tellus Institute, a think tank in Boston. “This decadal New York Times would be tracking a really major story, and it would have a headline something like ‘History has entered the planetary phase’.” Just as events drove medieval city states to amalgamate into nations centuries ago, global problems are now pressing for global solutions, he says. And that requires some form of global governance, at least to set broad goals – biodiversity standards, say, or global emissions caps – toward which local governments can find their own solutions. All our design efforts to this point have been aimed at creating a sustainable, equitable and workable new civilisation. But if we want our new society to last through the ages, many sustainability researchers stress one more point: be careful not to make it too efficient. The history of civilisations such as the Roman Empire or the Mayans suggests that they expanded dramatically during periods of climatic stability. Rulers knew how much they could get away with – how many fields they could irrigate from a single canal, for example, or how much forest to leave for the next generation of builders. That worked, and the civilisation flourished, until climate shifted. “They ended up building themselves to a point that might have been very efficient, but when the environment started working differently, they had overbuilt,” says Scott Heckbert, an environmental economist at CSIRO in Darwin, Australia, who simulates the collapse of past empires and peoples. In the end, though, no human civilisation can last forever. Every society encounters problems and solves them in whatever way seems most expedient, and every time it does so, it ratchets up its complexity – and its vulnerability. “You can never fully anticipate the consequences of what you do,” notes Tainter. Every civilisation sows the seeds of its own eventual doom – and no matter how carefully we plan our new built-from-scratch civilisation, the most we can hope for is to delay the inevitable.
Figure it out for yourself, my lad, You’ve all that the greatest of men have had, Two arms, two hands, two legs, two eyes, And a brain to use if you would be wise. With this equipment they all began, So start for the top and say, “I can.”
Look them over, the wise and great, They take their food from the common plate, And similar knives and forks they use, With similar laces they tie their shoes, The world considers them brave and smart, But you’ve all they had when they made their start.
You can triumph and come to skill, You can be great if you only will. You’re well equipped for what fight you choose, You have legs and arms and a brain to use, And the man who has risen great deeds to do, Began his life with no more than you.
You are the handicap you must face, You are the one who must choose your place, You must say where you want to go, How much you will study the truth to know. God has equipped you for life, but He Lets you decide what you want to be.
Courage must come from the soul within, The man must furnish the will to win. So figure it out for yourself, my lad, You were born with all that the great have had, With your equipment they all began. Get hold of yourself, and say: “I can.”
Gordon Ramsay challenged a number of celebrities to cook their favourite dishes in series 3 of the F Word. This recipe is Gordon’s chilli con carne in a cook-off with Sara Cox.
1 red chilli deseeded or keep half with seeds if you like it spicy
2 sprigs of thyme, leaves picked and roughly chopped
Olive oil, for frying
500g good quality beef mince
1 tsp ground cumin
2 tsp sweet paprika
1 tsp dried oregano
3 fresh tomatoes or 1 beef tomato, roughly chopped
400g tinned chopped tomatoes
100-200ml chicken or beef stock
3 tbsp tomato puree
1 cinnamon stick
1 bay leaf
400g kidney beans, drained and rinsed
Salt and pepper
Handful of chives, chopped
200ml soured cream
Boiled rice, to serve
Method
Sweat the onion, garlic, chilli and thyme in 2 tablespoons oil in a large saucepan
At the same time, brown the mince in a separate pan over moderate heat in a little oil.
Add the dried spices to the onion mixture and cook until they release their aroma. Then stir in the beef and mix well.
Add the fresh and tinned tomatoes and leave to cook down a little for about 5 minutes.
Pour in the chicken or beef stock and stir in tomato puree to taste. Drop the cinnamon and bay leaf in then bring to the boil and leave to simmer.
Once the sauce is beginning to thicken add the kidney beans and leave to cook for another 5-10 minutes to allow the beans to soak up the flavours. Check for seasoning.
Mix the chives and soured cream together. To serve, spoon the chilli into the centre of a mound of rice, with the soured cream and chives in a separate bowl on the side
This dip also works really well mixed with penne pasta, and apparently also works well in a cold roast-chicken sandwich, or tucked into a chicken breast before wrapping in bacon and roasting. Anyway, we tried it with pasta and as a paste on crackers with walnuts and sun-dried tomatoes. Serves 2-4
1 garlic clove, crushed.
2-3 handfuls of fresh spinach leaves (trim the stems if necessary; we didn’t bother)
200-250g Welsh goat’s cheese
1 lemon zest and juice
A little bit of parmesan, finely grated
Freshly ground black pepper
Method
Splash a bit of olive oil in the frying pan and saute the garlic until just soft.
Add the spinach and pinch of salt (doesn’t have to be too much, as the cheese will be plenty salty). Stir it around the warm pan just until it wilts down.
Tip into a colander and gently press and squeeze out some of the water.
Finely chop the spinach, and mix it with the goats’ cheese.
Add lemon juice and zest, parmesan, a good bit of pepper and a glug of olive oil.
Serves 2 reasonably generously as long as you have plenty of bread to go with it
Ingredients
360g carrots, peeled and finely chopped
80g onions, finely chopped
15g root ginger, peeled and chopped
280ml chicken stock
175ml water
150ml whipping cream
Juice of 1/2 lime
Salt and coarsely ground black pepper
Tip: Root ginger is freshest when its skin is smooth, silky and a light cream colour. To make it easier to peel, try and buy a piece that doesn’t have too many knobbly bits.
Method
Heat the pan and add a little vegetable oil. Add 260g of the carrots, the onions and ginger and cook for 5 minutes.
Pour on stock and water and cook for 10 minutes.
Puree soup with hand blender. Add remaining 100g carrots.
Stir in cream, lime juice and cook for 5 minutes.
Season with salt and pepper.
To make your soup extra special
Adding a dollop of creme fraiche or Greek yogurt makes this soup more indulgent, whilst adding a slight sharpness to the well rounded flavours. Always add the freshly cut chives at the last moment before serving so they retain their fresh flavour and texture.