Last November, I ran a half marathon with a group of friends. I use the word “ran”, but there was cheating involved. I mean, we did do some running, but we also walked when things got tough… or even tough-ish.

It took us over three hours to finish the run but, gosh, it was fun! We were running around Beaune in Burgundy - the route wound through the most beautiful vineyards and rolling hills - and in the aid station we got locally made pâte de fruit, cheese and wine (!): red or white. Only in France, where hedonism and sports and the joy of life’s simple pleasures seem to live together in non-exclusive harmony.

We were destined to fail, I suppose, when we decided to spend the last day before the race leisurely E-biking in the area and sampling wine at every stop: Volnay, Meursault, Poligny-Motrachet, Sentenay. It was all incredibly beautiful and intoxicating. Our snacks along the way consisted of tartiflette, tartiflette flavoured crisps, pain d’epice from the supermarket and the largest loaf of sourdough I have ever seen.

Which brings me in a terribly roundabout way (a bit like our run itself) to confit, another French invention that celebrates practical consideration with indulgence.

The farmers of Southwest France who invented confit have been using it for centuries to preserve food. Submerging ingredients in fat and cooking them slowly, they discovered, creates an environment so inhospitable to bacteria that food can last for months.

What happens during that cooking is transformative. Whatever you confit becomes infused with the herbs and spices you’ve added. A tomato concentrates into a jam-like version of itself. Garlic cloves turn from sharp little bombs into something sweet and mellow that you can spread like butter.

I mostly confit vegetables. Garlic, obviously. Root vegetables that become golden and concentrated. Mushrooms, like in today’s recipe, turn silky and deeply savoury.

I understand the oil fear. Using that much feels excessive and expensive. But here’s what people may forget: you’re not meant to throw it away afterward. Either rebottle and reuse it, or - better yet - use the flavour you’ve created. You can take the mushroom-infused oil from today’s recipe and drizzle it over pizza. Or you can use the rendered short rib fat for the most incredible roast potatoes.

(For all the technical confit details, I’ll lean on the trusty Kenji López-Alt at Serious Eats. Every nerdy, scientific detail you could want is right there.)

Today’s recipes are a far cry from a French confit duck. They are a little more me, mixing flavours and temperatures some more, but they both use the same principle - trapping moisture, creating a golden crust…très bon.

Confit Short Ribs (and a Beef with Mint Stir-Fry)

A two-part recipe today. The first: a kind of ‘confit’ short rib you could serve with mashed potatoes, creamy polenta, or even just a green salsa. It’s not a traditional confit, but it works in the same way - the ribs are cooked slowly, packed tightly together so the fat renders out and they gently cook in their own juices. The fat can be saved for other dishes (roast potatoes, or any roast veg), and the ribs can be spiced however you like (or left plain).

Here, I’ve taken that confit short rib and made a quick, fiery stir fry that takes minutes. The soft beef is tossed in a hot pan with ginger, garlic, chilli, and herbs until the edges turn crisp and caramelised. It’s the kind of thing that hits every note - rich, spicy, aromatic - and feels like a real reward after all the slow cooking.

Confit short ribs

Spiced confit mushrooms on sour cream

These mushrooms - a mix of button, chestnut, oyster and shiitake - cook gently in olive oil with garlic and rosemary until they’re completely tender. Then you crank up the heat to give them some colour and crispness at the edges. The soft garlic gets smashed into a paste with smoked paprika and Aleppo chilli and spooned over cool sour cream. It’s rich and bright at the same time, with that mushroom-infused oil saved for another day