Sunday Best: Slow-Braised Cola & Fish Sauce Short Ribs
Growing up in Atlanta, Sundays meant the smell of my grandmother's kitchen wrapping around you like a heavy quilt. Her secret to the most tender, melt-in-your-mouth chuck roast? A glass bottle of Coca-Cola poured right into the Dutch oven. It brought this beautiful, earthy sweetness that caramelized the beef perfectly.
When I got to Charleston and started working the line in fine dining, I learned about umami bombs. That's when I had a revelation: what if I took Nana's Coke braise and hit it with a heavy splash of fish sauce? Trust me, it doesn't taste like the ocean. It just acts like a megaphone for all those deep, beefy, roasted flavors.
I swapped the chuck for bone-in short ribs and serve them over slow-simmered Sea Island red peas, spiked with a smoky ham hock. This dish is me on a plate—one foot in Nana's kitchen, the other in the modern South.
Chef's Tip: Don't rush those peas; let them soak up that pot liquor. To make it your own, try swapping the Coke for a spicy ginger beer or adding a splash of good Kentucky bourbon to the braising liquid before it hits the oven.
Featured Recipe
Slow-Braised Cola & Fish Sauce Short Ribs with Creamy Sea Island Red Peas
Growing up, my grandmother swore by braising her Sunday chuck roast in a bottle of Coca-Cola. It tenderized the beef and left behind a subtle, earthy sweetness. I've taken her method to the next level with bone-in short ribs and a heavy splash of fish sauce—a Charleston fine-dining trick that doesn't make the dish taste like seafood, but acts like a megaphone for the beefy, roasted flavors. Served over deeply savory, ham hock-simmered Sea Island red peas, this dish bridges the gap between old-school soul food and modern Southern cooking.
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Timeline
Ingredients
- 4 lbs bone-in beef short ribs(cut into individual ribs)
- 1 tbsp kosher salt(plus more to taste for the peas)
- 1 tbsp black pepper(freshly cracked)
- 2 tbsp grapeseed or canola oil
- 1 large yellow onion(diced)
- 2 medium carrots(diced)
- 2 medium celery stalks(diced)
- 6 cloves garlic cloves(smashed)
- 2 tbsp tomato paste
- 12 oz Mexican Coca-Cola(must use cane sugar cola)
- 2 cups beef stock(low sodium)
- 2 tbsp fish sauce(Red Boat preferred)
- 4 sprigs fresh thyme
- 1.5 cups Sea Island Red Peas(soaked overnight (can substitute black-eyed peas))
- 4 cups chicken stock
- 1 small smoked ham hock
- 1 whole bay leaf
Instructions
- 1
Preheat your oven to 325°F. Pat 4 lbs bone-in beef short ribs completely dry, then season them generously on all sides with 1 tbsp kosher salt and 1 tbsp black pepper. Heat 2 tbsp grapeseed or canola oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Sear the short ribs in batches to avoid crowding the pan, turning until a deep, dark mahogany crust forms on every side, about 15 minutes total. Remove the ribs to a plate and set aside.
15 min
Tip: Take your time with the sear. That crust is the foundation of your gravy's flavor.
- 2
Drain all but 2 tablespoons of the rendered beef fat from the pot. Toss in the 1 large yellow onion, 2 medium carrots, and 2 medium celery stalks. Sauté until they start to soften and pick up some color, about 6 minutes. Stir in the 6 cloves garlic cloves and 2 tbsp tomato paste. Cook this mixture until the tomato paste deepens into a rich brick-red color, about 4 minutes.
10 min
Tip: Cooking out the tomato paste prevents a raw, tinny flavor and builds a deeper umami profile.
- 3
Pour in the 12 oz Mexican Coca-Cola to deglaze the hot pot. Use a wooden spoon to scrape up every bit of that beautiful fond from the bottom. Let the cola bubble and reduce by half, which will take about 5 minutes. Stir in the 2 cups beef stock, 2 tbsp fish sauce, and 4 sprigs fresh thyme. Nestle the seared short ribs back into the liquid, bone-side up. The liquid should come about halfway up the sides of the meat. Cover with a tight-fitting lid and transfer to the oven to braise for 2.5 hours.
155 min
Tip: It's crucial to use cane sugar cola here. High-fructose corn syrup reacts differently to heat and won't give you the same glossy, balanced finish.
- 4
Once the ribs are in the oven, get your peas going. In a separate heavy-bottomed pot, combine the soaked and drained 1.5 cups Sea Island Red Peas, 4 cups chicken stock, 1 small smoked ham hock, and 1 whole bay leaf. Bring it all to a gentle simmer over medium heat. Lower the heat, cover the pot partially, and let the peas cook slowly for 1.5 to 2 hours. Stir occasionally until the peas are tender and the liquid has thickened into a creamy, starchy gravy.
120 min
Tip: Wait to salt the peas until they are completely tender. Salting beans too early can make their skins tough.
- 5
After 2.5 hours, pull the Dutch oven out. The short ribs should be incredibly tender and yielding to a fork. Carefully transfer the ribs to a platter and tent loosely with foil. Strain the remaining braising liquid through a fine-mesh sieve into a saucepan, pressing on the solids to extract all that good flavor before discarding them. Skim the excess fat off the top of the liquid, then simmer over medium-high heat for 10-15 minutes until it reduces to a rich, glossy glaze that coats the back of a spoon.
20 min
Tip: If you have a fat separator, now is the time to use it. Otherwise, a wide spoon and some patience works just fine.
- 6
Taste your cooked Sea Island red peas and adjust the seasoning with salt if necessary. To serve, spoon a generous ladle of the creamy peas into a wide, shallow bowl. Place a short rib right on top of the peas, and drizzle a heavy spoonful of the reduced cola-fish sauce glaze over the meat. Serve immediately with a side of hot cornbread.
5 min
Tip: I like to finish the plate with just a pinch of flaky sea salt right on the top of the short rib.
Chef's Notes
If you can't find Sea Island Red Peas, standard black-eyed peas or cowpeas work wonderfully. The magic here really lies in that braising liquid. Don't skip the fish sauce! I promise you, nobody is going to say 'this tastes like anchovies.' They are just going to ask why your beef tastes richer, deeper, and better than anyone else's.
Marcus Stone
Heritage recipes with a chef's touch
My grandmother's kitchen in Atlanta is where I learned that food carries history. Every pot of collards, every batch of biscuits, every Sunday roast told stories of resilience, family, and love. I went on to train at the finest restaurants in Charleston and worked my way up through white-tablecloth kitchens. But I always came back to those family recipes—now I cook them with a chef's technique but a grandmother's heart. Because the best food honors where it came from.