Ingredients
- 2 lb Beef Stew Meat (1″ Cubed)
- 1 cup Flour
- 2 Medium Onions
- 2 Tbls Cornstartch
- 4 Carrots
- 6 Medium Red Potatoes (Cleaned and Cubed)
- 6 Cups Beef Stock
- 3 Tbls Butter
- 1 tsp Pepper
- 1/2 tsp Salt
Directions
- In a shallow bowl, combine the flour, salt, and pepper. Dredge the meat in the flour mixture, coating evenly.
- In a large stock pot, heat 1 tablespoon olive oil and 1 tablespoon butter over medium-high heat. Add the meat and brown on all sides.
- Pour in the beef stock and bring to a boil, scraping the bottom of the pot to release any browned bits and incorporate the flour into the broth.
- Stir in the remaining ingredients, except the cornstarch and remaining butter. Reduce heat and simmer for about 20 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender.
- In a small bowl, mix the remaining butter and cornstarch together to form a smooth paste. Stir this mixture into the stew to thicken.
- Bring the stew back to a gentle boil, then reduce heat and cook until thickened to your liking.
- Crockpot option: After browning the meat, transfer everything except the cornstarch and final butter to a slow cooker. Cook on low for 6–8 hours or high for 3–4 hours. Stir in the butter-cornstarch mixture during the last 30 minutes of cooking to thicken.
A Quiet Pot of Comfort
This beef stew is a small variation of my mom’s recipe—one of those meals that never needed a written card because it lived in memory instead. Hers always included a generous cup of chopped celery, stirred in without much thought. I, however, have quietly made my peace with leaving it out. Soft celery just isn’t my thing.
Instead, I like to nod to it gently. A few celery leaves scattered over the top at the end—green, fragrant, and old-fashioned—feel like the right compromise. A whisper of what was, without forcing it into the pot.
One thing I’ve added over the years is my own little ritual: soaking the beef in beer for a day before cooking. There’s something deeply satisfying about it—tucking the meat away in the fridge, knowing tomorrow’s meal is already beginning. The beer tenderizes the beef and adds a depth that feels both rustic and indulgent, the kind of kitchen magic you don’t rush.
A pot of beef stew will never be glamorous. It doesn’t sparkle or impress at first glance. But that’s the beauty of it. This is food meant to fill you up, warm your hands, and slow the evening down. It’s for cold days when the windows fog and the house smells like onions and broth and time itself seems to stretch.
Served with thick bread, maybe a pat of butter melting into the bowl, this stew does exactly what it’s supposed to do. It comforts. It nourishes. It reminds you that not everything has to be fancy to be deeply satisfying.
Sometimes, comfort is just a pot on the stove, quietly doing its work. 🍲