I hereby officially declare autumn open! I am picturing myself bedecked with a wreath of perfect autumn leaves. The bright October sun beams down, warming the cool, crisp air. I am dressed in jewel tones – possibly a cloak – and I’m cradling a pumpkin in one arm and holding a leek in the other, my own autumnal orb and sceptre. There are conkers all around.
The reality of autumn is probably more prosaic: an oversized sweatshirt, some gravy smeared up my forearm, and a grimly determined look as I gaze on the pumpkin and leek lying on my chopping board. It’s probably raining. But I am certainly surrounded by conkers, thanks to my small kids.
Still, the feeling is the same: it’s exciting when it’s time to begin cold-weather cooking. Listen, I like a salad as much as the next person. Yes, a perfectly ripe tomato dressed in olive oil and salt is delightful. But I want to roll up my sleeves and cook. This is my time.
So as soon as the temperature dropped, I hit the ground running: on Sunday an enormous shepherd’s pie followed by a proper, oven-baked, burnished-skinned rice pudding. The next day, litres of soup carefully ladled into identical containers, ready to be deployed at any moment. Then, slabs of pork belly, pressure-cooked until jelly-like, glazed with soy and star anise and muscovado sugar. Porridge each morning. But I held off on the dish I am always most excited to cook; I needed to be fully immersed in the autumnal mindset before I began. I needed to earn it.
Slow-braised short ribs are made for autumn: they sit in the oven for ages, till they are dark, tender and luscious
And now here we are. Slow-braised short ribs are made for this season: they need to sit in the oven for ages, they are dark, tender and luscious. As with all the best autumnal food, they are best served with a mountain of carbs. Mash is the obvious choice – made properly, silky smooth with lots of butter – but I also love them with a heap of polenta, or even a wodge of soft-crumbed cornbread. Anything to soak up that beautiful sauce. A smaller pile of green vegetables (Savoy cabbage or tenderstem broccoli are my go-tos) should rest alongside, for the appearance of healthiness, and for colour.
The English short rib is a gorgeous cut: it is a flat, bone-in cut taken from the lower ribs of the cow, and it is rich, marbled and full of flavour. The cut requires time, but it also rewards it: a low, slow cook melts the collagen and renders the fat, creating complex, deep, beefy flavour and an irresistible succulent texture.
While time does most of the work for you, I still enjoy the rituals of starting a braise like this: the sizzle as the flat slabs of meat brown, turning them every so often in the oil, the gentle, repetitive chopping of vegetables for the base of the sauce, and the glug of the red wine as it turns the contents of the pan from a series of ingredients into dinner. It feels like an investment in future happiness, delayed gratification.
You can finish the whole thing rustically, with the softened vegetables and the thin, flavour-rich sauce. But I like to strain the sauce from the vegetables (they’ve already done their job and given up their beautiful flavour, after all) and then reduce it significantly, until it’s almost thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Finally, you quickly whisk a couple of tablespoons of butter into the sauce: the whole thing will emulsify into something slightly thicker and so glossy that you can see your reflection in it. Sauces like this look fancy, but they’re very easy to pull together, and they raise the dish to something really quite elegant, despite the huge slabs of meat. This one is particularly gorgeous and well worth your time.
When it comes to serving, I tend to let the meat make the decision for me. If I can lift the ribs without them collapsing, I rather like plating the meat with the bones still in place: it shows just how easily, just how tender and yielding the beef is, that it will quite literally slip away from the bones, leaving them clean and pale. But if the meat has already slid off, I pile the boneless beef up, spooning the gleaming sauce generously over the top. Autumn on a plate.
Serves: 4
Hands-on time: 20 minutes
Cooking time: 3-4 hours
- 1.5kg bone-in short ribs
- 2 tbsp vegetable oil
- 1 small onion, diced
- 2 celery ribs, sliced
- 2 carrots, peeled and diced
- 350ml red wine
- 300ml beef stock
- 25g butter
- Preheat the oven to 150°C/140°C fan. Heat the oil in a heavy-based, lidded pan in which the short ribs will snugly fit. Over a medium heat, brown the short ribs on all sides, and then set to one side.
- Soften the onion, celery and carrots in the pan, and then return the browned ribs, followed by the wine. Scrape up any caramelised bits from the bottom of the pan, and then add the beef stock. Bring to a simmer, place the lid on the pan, and then put it in the oven. Let the whole thing braise for 3-4 hours, turning the ribs very gently every hour or so.
- Once the ribs are ready, the meat should easily lift away from the bone. Lift the ribs from the pan and set to one side. If you handle them gently enough you can leave the bones in for serving, or you can remove the meat and serve it all in a pile. Strain everything else in the pan, reserving all the sauce.
- Rapidly simmer the sauce until it reduces by two thirds. Add the butter, and whisk it in quickly, to emulsify it into the sauce. Place the ribs on a serving platter, and generously spoon the rich sauce all over them.
Join Olivia Potts for Truffles and Trattoria in Rome on 2-6 December 2026. For more details about this Spectator Club trip, go to spectator.com/tastings.
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