Name: Braised Short Ribs
Prep time: 30 min
Cook time: 2 h 30 min
Total time: 3 h
Yield: 4 servings
Cuisine: American
Ingredients: 4 lbs beef short ribs; 1 tbsp salt; 1 tsp black pepper; 2 tbsp vegetable oil; 1 large onion, diced; 3 carrots, chopped; 3 celery stalks, chopped; 4 cloves garlic, minced; 2 tbsp tomato paste; 2 cups red wine; 2 cups beef broth; 2 sprigs fresh thyme; 2 bay leaves

Let’s Talk About These Braised Short Ribs (and Why I Love ‘Em)

Ever have one of those Sundays where you want dinner to feel like it’s hugging you back? That’s when I drag out my big Dutch oven and make braised short ribs. The first time I made these, I was honestly just hoping I wouldn’t set the smoke alarm off—and (small miracle) I didn’t! My mum used to make a version of these when the weather turned cold. She’d joke they were so good they could fix a bad day, and you know what? She wasn’t wrong.

Anyway, every time I cook these, our house fills up with that slow-cooked, meaty, wine-y aroma, and my kids start circling the kitchen like sharks. One time my neighbor knocked on our door just to ask what I was cooking, then left with a plate. True story.

Why This Is the Only Braised Short Ribs Recipe I Actually Make

I make short ribs when I want to impress someone (usually myself after a long work week). My family practically races to the table for these (sometimes it’s actually dangerous—teenagers have elbows), and I love that this recipe honestly tastes better the next day, if you have leftovers. (Do I? Rarely.)

It’s forgiving. If you forget one step, like browning the onions a bit too much, no worries. Actually, I think that just adds flavor, although my brother still insists it’s “charred.” Pfft.

What You’ll Need (and How I Sometimes Cut Corners)

3-4 pounds beef short ribs (bone-in is better, but boneless is fine if that’s all you’ve got. And one time I used beef chuck because that’s what was in the freezer—came out pretty well, honestly.)
Salt and pepper (I just use sea salt, but if you have fancy pink stuff, go for it)
2-3 tablespoons vegetable oil (some people swear by olive oil, but I reach for whatever’s on sale)
1 large onion, chopped (red or yellow—it’s all fair game)
3-4 carrots, cut into big chunks (baby carrots also work, and I sometimes skip peeling because…who cares?)
2 celery stalks, chopped (optional—I forget this all the time)
3-4 garlic cloves, smashed or minced (I usually add an extra clove because, why not?)
2 tablespoons tomato paste (sometimes I use ketchup if I’m desperate, but don’t tell any fancy chefs)
2 cups beef broth (in a pinch, I’ve mixed a bouillon cube with hot water—works fine)
1 cup dry red wine (cabernet, merlot, or whatever you have; or substitute more broth if you’re out)
2-3 sprigs fresh thyme (or a teaspoon of dried, I won’t tell anyone)
1 bay leaf (optional—I forget this half the time)

How to Make Braised Short Ribs (Don’t Panic, It’s Pretty Easy)

Preheat your oven to 325°F (160°C). Or a bit lower if your oven runs hot—I learned that the hard way. Heat the oil in a big Dutch oven over medium-high heat. If you don’t have one, any oven-safe pot with a lid should work—my old soup pot’s been pressed into service many times.
Season the ribs all over with salt and pepper. This is the part where I sometimes get distracted and forget the pepper, but it’s fine.
Brown the short ribs in batches, each side till they’re deeply brown—like 3-4 minutes per side. Try not to cram them in, or they’ll just steam (ask me how I know).

(This is usually when someone wanders in and tries to snag a piece—good luck!)
Take the ribs out and set them aside. If there’s a lot of fat, scoop a bit out, but keep a few spoonfuls, as the veggies need it.
Add onions, carrots, and celery to the pot. Cook till the onions go all soft and golden—about 5-8 minutes. If things start sticking, no panic, just add a glug more oil or a splash of water.
Add garlic and tomato paste; stir for a minute or two. (Don’t worry if the bottom of your pot looks like a mess right now—it’ll clean up as it cooks.)
Pour in the wine and scrape up those browned bits. This step is oddly satisfying. (Occasionally I have a sip, purely for quality control.) Let it simmer for about 3 minutes.
Add broth, thyme, and bay leaf. Bring to a simmer, then nestle those ribs back in with any juices. The liquid should come halfway up the ribs; if you need more, just add water.
Cover and braise in the oven for 2.5–3 hours. Check halfway to make sure it isn’t drying out; add a splash of water if needed. At around the 2-hour mark, I stick a fork in to check if they’re tender yet (but then put the lid back on quick before anyone sees!).
Serve! Remove any big thyme stems or bay leaf you see (but you don’t have to hunt obsessively for them). Skim excess fat if you want—sometimes I skip this when it’s just family.

Little Notes (AKA Stuff I Screwed Up and Fixed Later)

Honestly, short ribs need patience. I once tried to cook them faster at a higher temp—not good. Tough as boot leather. Just go slow.
If your sauce seems thin, take the lid off for the last 20–30 minutes—thickens right up. (I only figured this out like the fourth time I made it!)
The flavor deepens a bunch overnight. Next-day short ribs are the unsung heroes of leftovers, if you ask me.
I always forget to buy celery but it hasn’t ruined dinner yet.

How I’ve Mixed Things Up (Some More Successful Than Others)

Once I tried adding parsnips; it gave a sweet, earthy edge. I kinda liked it, but my youngest called them “weird white carrots.” So there’s that.
Cooked these in a slow cooker (after browning) when the oven was on the fritz—worked well, and easy for busy days!
Tried adding mushrooms once. Not a fan, personally, but my mate loves them, so maybe just me.

Equipment Stuff (But Don’t Stress If You Don’t Have Everything)

I use my heavy Dutch oven, but if you’ve got a big oven-safe pot and some tinfoil for a lid, you’re golden. My friend actually uses her slow cooker (just browns everything on the stove first), and she says it turns out ace. Oh, and a wooden spoon is handy, but honestly, any sturdy spoon will do. If you’re short on good knives, I once did all the chopping with a bread knife. Not ideal, but it worked!

How to Store Leftover Short Ribs (Assuming You Actually Have Any)

Pop leftovers in an airtight container in the fridge—they’ll keep for 3-4 days, maybe longer, but honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day! They freeze fine for a month or two if you’re dealing with superhuman self-restraint. Reheat gently, adding a little water or broth if it looks too thick.

Serving Ideas That Make These Ribs Even Better

My favorite way? Spoon these beauties over creamy mashed potatoes. My sister swears by polenta, and the kids just want bread for sopping up sauce (no surprise). Sometimes I throw some steamed greens on the side so I can pretend it’s a balanced meal. If you want some amazing mashed potato inspiration, check out the Serious Eats mashed potatoes guide—those folks are potato geniuses.

Lessons Learned (Because I’ve Messed This Up Before)

I once skipped browning the ribs and it tasted fine, but lacked that deep flavor. Not a disaster, but I wouldn’t do it again.
Opening the oven too often slows things down—I get impatient but now just trust the process.
Never sub in sweet wine for dry. One Thanksgiving, I used a dessert wine (by accident!), and, well, nobody wanted seconds.

Real Questions People Have Asked Me (and My Best Attempts at Answers)

Can I make these ahead? Oh, absolutely, and honestly, I think it tastes better after a day in the fridge. Just reheat gently—no need to boil it, just a nice low simmer.

Do I have to use red wine? No, but it does add something. If you’re out, beef stock works. I tried using beer once—wasn’t my favorite, a bit too bitter for me, but if you love strong flavors, maybe.

What’s with all the skimming fat? Is it necessary? It helps if you want a lighter sauce, especially if you’re serving company. Otherwise, just embrace the richness!

How do I know they’re done? The meat should pretty much fall off the bone when you poke it with a fork (and if it doesn’t after 3 hours, just give it another 30 minutes). Actually, don’t stress—the oven won’t hurt it if it goes a little longer.

Should I strain the sauce? Up to you! Sometimes I do for guests, sometimes I just ladle it out rustic-style. Nobody complains either way.

PS—If you want to geek out on wine pairings, Wine Folly has a pretty handy chart.

Alright, we’ve made it—if you’re reading this far, I’m truly impressed. (Or maybe you’re just hungry. That’s legit too.) And now, on second thought, maybe I should start a batch myself…