Shannie Git Your Goat

Goat came in the CSA package last month. GOAT. I mean, I knew it was coming, but I'd hoped it wouldn't. In vain.

For a month, it sat in my freezer untouched. I toyed with the options. There were two - cook and eat the goat or not eat it and let the misery and mystery of the unknown meat continue until I descend into madness.

I chose the former.

Today was the day.

I gathered from my fridge what I thought were complimentary ingredients, formulated a plan, and drove to my mom and stepdad's house. If I was going to try goat, so were they.

I had four small racks of goat (frenched - so fancyyyy) I had to deal with. I decided to braise them. In a pan, I browned the meat on all sides in olive oil, removed the meat, and poured in about a cup and a half of Douro vinha grande (some Portuguese red wine I picked up somewhere) while scraping up the bits of meat stuck to the pan. I added a cup and a half of water, a palmful of smoked paprika, a handful of chopped red onion, and the meat, and covered. After simmering for about 20 minutes, I removed the meat, added 1 tbsp tomato paste and a little more paprika and reduced down into a rich sauce, and coated the meat in it.

I served the racks over browned cabbage and kalamata olives. It looked pretty enough. But how would it taste?

I watched the faces of my family as they took their first bites. And then their second bites. I waited for protests that the ribs tasted of tin cans and bad attitude, but the eating continued without incident, so I tried it. (close eyes, deep breath)

It was good. No, for real.

The goat meat was not gamy at all, as I thought it would be (unlike the goat yogurt I ate once - that's a story for another time, my friends). It tasted like beef that had been hiking in the mountains. Aside from the toughness of the meat (due in no small part to my overcooking it), it was flavorful and rich and meaty and hearty and delicious.

Hmmfph. Who knew?

However, we probably won't tell Grandmama what we fed her. It's just better that way.