A beef stew is a beef stew is a beef stew — unless you live in France, where stews have particular names depending on the cut of the meat in them, the booze they float in (there’s almost always something alcoholic) or the part of the country they come from.
A daube traditionally is made with cubes of beef and red wine, and, if you’re from Provence, you might add olives and/or a strip of orange peel. Beef a la mode, which uses a hunk of meat, is what Americans might call pot roast. Beef bourguignon comes from Burgundy (Bourgogne) and uses the pinot noir that’s the pride of its region. And then there’s carbonnade, the outlier.
Sometimes called Flemish beef stew, and most notable because beer is the braising liquid, beef carbonnade is the stew of choice in Belgium and in the north of France, places too cold for growing wine grapes but famed for their beer. Ale makes for a heartier stew than does wine, one that’s more suited to its original chilly terroir and one that’s welcome here while we wait for spring to show up.
At its most traditional, the carbonnade pairs beef with slow-cooked, caramelized onions. In fact, it’s as much about the onions as it is about beef. It always has a sweet-sour edge, thanks to the addition of brown sugar (beloved in northern France) and cider vinegar. Because I like playing the sweet-sour card, I’ve upped its punch here by adding mustard and tomato paste, allspice, cloves and more thyme and bay leaves than a French cook might. Seasoned like that, the stew has it all: It’s sweet, sour, (just a little) bitter (from the ale), salty and packed with umami.