Beef Wellington

• 1-2 lbs. beef tenderloin
• 1 lb. mushrooms (we used crimini and shiitake)
• 1 shallot
• 1 clove garlic
• 1 package prosciutto di parma
• whole grain mustard
• 2 eggs
• phyllo dough
• fresh thyme
• olive oil
• salt
• pepper
• cling wrap (Saran Wrap)
• cognac (optional)
• foie gras (or roasted bone marrow as a substitute)

The tenderloin is the tenderest cut of meat. It comes from under the small of the back, an area which receives very little attention and is rarely utilized, thus making this cut so tender and flavorful. It will take on the flavors of everything with which it is wrapped, so the mustard, mushroom duxelles, foie gras/bone marrrow, and prosciutto impart their flavorings into the tenderloin while it cooks in a pastry shell. This entree is widely praised by gourmands and Epicureans alike.

Salt and pepper tenderloin generously. Prepare whole grain mustard in bowl with brush and set aside. Heat sauté pan very high and add a squeeze of olive oil. Sear tenderloin in high heat, using the sides of the pan to help. This should take less than 1 minute -- the goal is to sear the outer flesh of the tenderloin while leaving the inside blue. Once the meat is seared on all sides (do not forget the ends), douse heat and remove from pan. 

Quickly apply mustard using brush and cover the tenderloin; this allows the meat to absorb the mustard while it cools. Set aside.

It was here we quickly seared slices of foie gras. Set aside.

Now prepare the duxelles: place mushrooms in food processor with garlic and a squeezed of olive oil. Blend into a paste and place in a dry pan. Stir periodically over medium heat. It was here we added a splash of cognac (Remy Martin 1738) -- the goal is to cook the moisture out of the mushrooms; the drier the duxelles, the better the Wellington will cook. Do not burn; it should be like a pâté.

Add fresh thyme. Set aside.

Lay cling wrap flat on cutting board. Lay down a layer of prosciutto di Parma, enough that it will cover the tenderloin when wrapped (like a Christmas cracker or Toostie Roll).

Spread the duxelles on top of the prosciutto di Parma.

Place tenderloin on edge. (We arranged the foie goie on the duxelles and adjacent to the tenderloin.) Roll and fold tenderloin in the duxelles-prosciutto-cling wrap layer while wrapping and squeezing tightly, until the entire tenderloin is covered.

Once tightly wrapped, the trick is to use the cling wrap and very tightly roll the edges together, so that the entire Wellington is the most tightly packed together it can be, like a large sausage. 

Place in refrigerator for one half hour. 

Remove from fridge when cold and remove cling wrap.

Lay another layer of cling wrap and then a layer of phyllo dough (in exactly the same manner as the cling wrap above). Now, roll and fold Wellington in phyllo dough-cling wrap layer. Ensure that an even layer covers the Wellington and trim off any excess phyllo dough, for too much or bunched-up dough makes a bulky and uneven Wellington. 

Squeeze and wrap tightly at the edges; the tighter the wrap, the better the shape.

Place back in the refrigerator for five minutes in order for it to firm up. Preheat oven to 400F.

Beat two egg yolks in bowl with brush. Set aside.

Remove Wellington from refrigerator and remove cling wrap. Place Wellington in roasting pan and score with knife. Brush Wellington with egg yolks. Salt generously. Place in oven (400F) for 35 minutes.
Take out, let rest for 10 minutes.
When cooled, slice into medallions.

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There is no readily discernible reason why the entrée is known as Beef Wellington, for there is no real connection between the dish and Arthur Wellesley, the much-lauded and larger-than-life British admiral and 1st Duke of Wellington. 

The Iron Duke Wellington

There are, of course, similarities between this English dish and its continental variant, filet de bœuf en croûte (filet of beef in pastry), but honestly, the idea of putting meat in pastry is known the world over, and given how incestuous the histories of Britain and France are, one should not be surprised to find opulent and Epicurean dishes shared by the elite of either. The Wellington in question may be Wellington, New Zealand, where dubious lore claims the dish was first prepared and served. Despite the near-universally agreed upon belief that the meal is English in origin, there seem to be no references to it before the 19th century, and almost all of our modern references are American in origin. Despite all of this uncertainty, what is certain is that this extremely rich and flavorful dish will delight and satisfy even the most stuffy and snobbish gourmand.

As for music, we recommend an English composer: Gustav Holst's The Planets suite, the opening of which, Mars, Bringer of War, is ominous and grandiose in style well befitting the character of a Wellington-esque figure, whose name is inexplicably and popularly linked with the hearty dish describe above despite any pesky facts asserting the contrary. 

~Ciao & Bon Appétit.