A simple but very elegant dinner--perfect for fall weather. (If you've never tried short ribs...you've got to make this sometime.)

Heat olive oil in a heavy pot over high heat. Sprinkle short ribs on both sides with salt and pepper. Quickly sear both sides of the short ribs, using tongs to flip them halfway through. (Just sear about 1 1/2 minutes per side.) Remove the shortribs to a plate. Pour wine and beef broth into the pot. Add rosemary. Stir to combine, scraping the bottom of the pot to deglaze. Return the shortribs to the pot, reduce heat to low, then cover the pot and simmer it for 2 1/2 to 3 hours. (You can also put the pot into a 300 degree oven if you'd prefer not to simmer on the stovetop.) After they have cooked, carefully remove the shortribs from the pot again. Stir in mustard, cream, and capers, then raise the heat and allow it to bubble up and gently boil for a good couple of minutes, or until it has thickened a bit. Taste and add more salt and pepper if needed. Return the shortribs to the sauce, put on the lid, and turn off the heat. To roast the mushrooms, preheat oven to 400 degrees. Arrange the mushrooms in a single layer on a baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper, then roast the mushrooms until they're golden brown, about 15 to 20 minutes. Serve the shortribs on top of the mushrooms, then drizzle with extra cream sauce. Add a little rosemary sprig if you want to be fancy. This is absolutely divine.

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I think I’ve established that I’m obsessed with short ribs. The first time I ever tasted one, I fainted from the sheer, slow-cooked bliss of it all. Short ribs, contrary to what many might assume, are not in the same category of the ribs people smoke and rub in barbecue sauce. They’re actually nothing like those ribs. The only way I can describe short ribs is that they’re a little like pot roast on a stick–only the best, most succulent and amazing pot roast you’ve ever tasted in your life.

I have a braised short rib recipe here on my site, and one with a more tomato-based sauce. This one is under the winey/creamy/so-darn-good sauce umbrella, and it may be my favorite one.

Since the cream sauce was so rich and decadent, I decided not to go the route of risotto or mashed potatoes or polenta or pasta. Instead, I just stuck them on top of some roasted Oklahoma mushrooms and called it a day, patting myself on the back for making such a healthy choice.

Ahem.

These are short ribs. I’m already excited.





Sprinkle both sides with salt and pepper…





Then brown them in a heavy pot over very high heat.





This’ll just take a couple of minutes–we’re just searing them at this point.





When they’re seared, remove the ribs from the pot for a minute and pour in the red wine…





And beef broth. Stir it around and scrape the bottom of the pot to loosen up all the magical bits of heaven.





Return the short ribs to the pot, then (oops. forgot to do this earlier) throw in the rosemary. Give it all a little stir with a big spoon, then put on the lid, reduce the heat to low, and simmer it for about 2 1/2 to 3 hours. The ribs are like pot roast or brisket or any slow-cooked meat: they have to be cooked low and slow in order for the connective tissues to dissolve and for everything to become tender and evil, where evil means irresistibly delicious.





Sometime during the slow-cooking process, throw a bunch of mushrooms onto a baking sheet. I usually just do creminis or white buttons, but these are an assortment of crazy, freaky mushrooms…and they’re all grown here in Oklahoma!

I’ll post more about this at another time. I am as obsessed with mushrooms as I am with short ribs.

Anyway, roast the mushrooms as you always would: drizzle them with olive oil, sprinkle on some salt and pepper, and throw them in a 400 degree oven for about 20 minutes.

You want ’em to be nice and golden brown, so just go as long as you need to. I want to marry these mushrooms, I love them so much.

I think we’d be very happy together.





Next, take the hunks of burning love out of the pot and set them on a plate for a minute. They should be so tender, they’ll look like they’d fall apart if you looked at ’em funny.

“I see you made gooseberry tarts, too. I wonder if they’re as light as mine. Mine like to’d have blown away if you blew on ’em.”

If you can name that movie, you have my admiration forever.





Now, back to the pot. Add in some capers, which I forget about 95% of the time, but when I remember to remember them, I’m so glad I did.

Capers are weird. And wonderful.

And weird.





Next, because it will give everything a nice tang, throw in some mustard: Dijon, grainy…anything but the neon yellow stuff will do.





Then drizzle in some heavy cream. It all suddenly makes perfect sense.





Now just bring this to a gentle boil and let it thicken up for a couple of minutes.





And…I’m dead. This looks (and tastes) (and smells) so ding dang wonderful. Winey and beefy and rosemary-y.





When you’re ready to serve it up, pile some mushrooms on the plate…





Then try to make a mountain out of a couple of short ribs and drizzle on extra cream sauce. Holy…help.

Oh, and I’m sure glad I decided not to serve this with anything fattening, like goat cheese polenta or four-cheese pasta. I’m all about healthy choices, as you can see.

Not.

At the end, you can sprinkle on some more minced rosemary…or you can just set a sprig on there to be extra fancy.





But the fancy really doesn’t matter. All that really matters is that when you taste of forkful of these short ribs…your life will change forever. Especially if you’ve never had a short rib before.

It’s one of my favorite things in the entire world.

Here’s the handy printable: