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Created by Chef Freja
Pan-fried beef tartare on dark rugbrod, crusted outside and still blushing pink within, crowned with a raw egg yolk and ringed with capers, cornichons, pickled beet, and horseradish. Tatar's warm-hearted cousin.
Pariserbof is lunch restaurant food. It belongs to the frokostrestauranter of Copenhagen, the wood-paneled dining rooms where the day pauses for two hours and the table fills with smorrebrod, aquavit, and slow conversation. You don't make pariserbof in a hurry. You make it when you've decided that the afternoon is going to be a long one, and you want a piece of smorrebrod that can anchor the whole meal.
The idea is simple and slightly daring. Good beef, chopped by hand, shaped into a patty, and fried hot and fast so the outside takes on a dark crust while the inside stays completely raw. It sits on a slice of buttered rugbrod, and around it you build a small landscape of sharp things: capers, cornichons, chopped pickled beet, raw onion, grated horseradish, and a raw egg yolk at the center holding it all together. Tatar is the fully raw version. Pariserbof is its warm-hearted cousin, the one that went for a walk in the pan and came back with color in its cheeks.
What matters most here is two things: the quality of the beef and the heat of the pan. I'll tell you exactly what to look for in both. Buy the best meat you can find and chop it by hand, not in a machine. Get the pan properly hot before the patties go in. Everything else is assembly, and the assembly is a pleasure, because each garnish goes in its own small pile and the eater builds the perfect bite themselves. This is food that invites the table to slow down, and that invitation is the whole point.
The name pariserbof, Paris beef, points straight to its origin in the French bistro culture that swept through Northern European cities in the late 19th century. Danish lunch restaurants adopted the dish in the 1890s, when the Copenhagen frokost tradition was being codified, and it settled into the smorrebrod canon as the piece you ordered when you wanted something more substantial than a slice of fish. The raw egg yolk and the ring of sharp condiments are Danish additions; the French original was plainer. What began as a borrowed idea became, within a generation, a dish the Danes now claim as entirely their own.
Quantity
500g
very cold, trimmed of all sinew
Quantity
4 thick slices
Quantity
30g
softened
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
20g
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
freshly ground, to taste
Quantity
4
Quantity
2 tablespoons
drained
Quantity
4
finely chopped
Quantity
2 small
finely chopped
Quantity
1 small
half finely chopped, half cut into thin rings
Quantity
2 teaspoons
freshly grated
Quantity
small handful
snipped
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| beef tenderloin or top sirloinvery cold, trimmed of all sinew | 500g |
| dark rugbrod | 4 thick slices |
| unsalted butter (for the bread)softened | 30g |
| neutral oil | 2 tablespoons |
| unsalted butter (for frying) | 20g |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | freshly ground, to taste |
| very fresh egg yolks | 4 |
| capersdrained | 2 tablespoons |
| cornichonsfinely chopped | 4 |
| pickled beetsfinely chopped | 2 small |
| red onionhalf finely chopped, half cut into thin rings | 1 small |
| fresh horseradishfreshly grated | 2 teaspoons |
| cress or chives (optional)snipped | small handful |
Put the beef on a cold cutting board and chop it by hand with a sharp heavy knife. Not minced, not pureed. You want fine, even pieces about the size of a grain of rice. A food processor turns the meat into paste and paste fries like a hockey puck. Hand-chopped beef keeps its texture and tells you what it is when you bite into it. Work quickly so the meat stays cold. Cold meat holds its shape; warm meat turns greasy.
Arrange the capers, chopped cornichons, chopped pickled beets, finely chopped red onion, and grated horseradish in small piles on a board or plate. Everything needs to be ready before the beef hits the pan, because the frying takes less than four minutes from start to finish and you won't have time to chop once you've started. The onion rings go aside separately; they hold the egg yolks at the end.
Divide the beef into four equal portions and shape each one into a flat oval about a centimeter and a half thick. Don't pack them tightly. Firm them just enough to hold together. Overworked meat tightens up and goes tough in the pan. Season the tops and bottoms generously with salt and pepper only in the last minute before frying. Salt pulls moisture out of raw meat, and wet meat doesn't crust.
Spread each slice of rugbrod with a thin layer of softened butter, going right to the edges. The butter is not optional and it is not garnish. It's what keeps the rye from soaking up the juices from the meat and turning into a wet mess underneath. Set the bread out on the plates where you'll serve.
Heat the oil and butter together in a heavy frying pan over high heat. You want the pan properly hot. When the butter foams and starts to smell of hazelnuts, lay the patties in with space between them. Press them down once, lightly, with a spatula. Cook for about forty-five seconds on the first side until a deep brown crust has formed, then flip and cook for another forty-five seconds on the other side. The outside should be dark and crusted. The inside should still be raw and red. That contrast is the whole point of pariserbof, and you'll know when it's right by the feel: firm on the outside, yielding in the middle.
Place a hot patty onto each slice of buttered rugbrod. Lay an onion ring in the center of the patty and carefully slide a raw egg yolk into the ring so it sits in its own little cup. Arrange the capers, cornichons, pickled beets, chopped raw onion, and grated horseradish around the yolk in small separate heaps. Don't mix them into one pile. Part of the pleasure of pariserbof is choosing, with each forkful, which combination of pickles and sharp things you want alongside the meat.
Scatter a few sprigs of cress or snipped chives across the top for a green note, and serve immediately with a knife and fork. The eater breaks the yolk themselves, stirs it through the garnishes, and cuts down through the patty into the buttered rye. An ice-cold beer or a small glass of aquavit belongs alongside. Tak for mad.
1 serving (about 210g)
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