You can make a designer meal that rivals the original in flavor and crushes it on affordability.
Beef Wellington is a dish of opulence—not the average thing for the likes of me to order off of a menu—if I wanted to eat it, I’d have to try making it. So I did. And while beef Wellington is a scrumptious and impressive centerpiece, frankly, it's murder on my wallet. That's because the tenderloin that runs through the center carries a hefty price tag. When you think about it, what makes the dish great is as much the treatment of the tenderloin, as it is the meat itself. In that spirit, I’d like to encourage you to Wellington anything you damn well please.
The classic beef Wellington uses about a two-pound center cut of beef tenderloin—a cut prized for its mild beef flavor and supreme tenderness. That piece will run you $60 to over $100 depending on where you buy it and the treatment and processing of the meat. That prime cut of meat is seared and given the full welly treatment: It’s wrapped in a savory mushroom duxelles followed by a thin layer of prosciutto, and finally sealed into a sheet of buttery puff pastry. It’s baked until gloriously crisp and browned.
When you slice into it, you’re rewarded with many concentric layers of rich, umami-laden treats. It’s a gorgeous presentation in which every component plays a role in this gratifying experience. Meaning, truly, you can swap out the protein for another one and get similar (if not greater) satisfaction.
Salmon Wellington. Chicken thigh Wellington. Turkey meatloaf Wellington. Hard-boiled egg Wellington. Each one of those would be showstoppers at your dinner party and at a fraction of the price of the traditional. All you have to do is prepare that protein exactly how you would normally cook it, or depending on the protein and your preference, take it off the heat a bit early because it’ll continue to bake in the oven later.
I decided to make a meatloaf Wellington the other day, and it was a stunner. I often impress myself so my praise is expected, but my partner devoured his and told me he’d be happy ordering that at any chop house. All things considered, it certainly rivaled the classic. Meatloaf is cheaper to make, the seasoning penetrates throughout the protein, the pastry bakes crisper because less juice is released, and overall it’s more approachable. I’d say on average more folks slap together meatloaf than sear up a chateaubriand on a regular basis. Not only does that make it less stressful to assemble this dish with a protein you’re comfortable with, but if you mess it up, at least you didn’t overcook a $70 roast.
Whatever it is you’re using, cook it to about 80% to 90% doneness. This will build some color, develop flavor, and retain some of the protein’s natural juices while allowing it to be firm enough to handle. Let it cool to room temperature.
Duxelles is the French term for a rough chopped mushroom paste. Mushrooms lose a lot of moisture and reduce down to about half their bulk, so use 10 to 16 ounces of mushrooms. Chop them with a knife first to about quarter-inch bits, then use a food processor to bring them down to a mince. Sauté them in butter with a minced shallot and some fresh herbs, like thyme, until most of the moisture is gone; this takes about 15 minutes of stirring until the mushrooms are almost sticking to the bottom of the pan. There should be no mushroom juice pooling up in the pan when you’re done. Set it aside to cool.
When you’re ready to shape the massive roast, unwrap the thawed puff pastry on a lightly floured surface. Use a rolling pin to flatten out the pastry and make it a bit bigger. Lay a piece of plastic wrap over the pastry and slightly shingle prosciutto in a rectangle slightly smaller than the pastry. Spread the cooled duxelles onto the prosciutto to make a thin but complete layer.
Using a pastry brush, spread a thin layer of dijon mustard all over the protein. This tastes great but also helps the bits of mushroom adhere to the meat. Place the protein along the long side of the prosciutto and duxelles plank. If you’re using several small hunks of chicken or eggs, just line them up. Then use the plastic wrap to help you start rolling the prosciutto up and over the protein until it meets the other side. Use the plastic wrap to move the meat off to the side.
Egg wash the puff pastry. Place the prosciutto tube onto the same side of the puff pastry and roll it up so the puff pastry meets the other side. Let it rest seam-side down. Pinch the edges shut securely. Place the Wellington on a parchment-lined baking sheet and egg-wash the outside. If you want to be fancy, use the back of a knife’s blade to make score marks in the puff pastry. Bake it at 425°F for about 25 to 35 minutes, or until the pastry is well-browned and risen.
Considering the Wellington as more of a treatment rather than a specific dish opens the door to using it as a delightful way to rework leftovers too. Maybe you have two or three slices of meatloaf leftover from the weekend—just line up those slices on the duxelles and proceed as usual. Leftover pork roast makes an easy substitute, and I wouldn’t sneeze at a leftover roasted sweet potato Wellington either.
