Kiss the Cook
Once every...oh, I don't know...year? I get the idea that maybe I should cook something. It is usually an impulse that I follow with little thought to my own well being or the fact that I can't cook.
This time around, my impulse was inspired by a hunk of meat identified as "Roast Beef" . . . I have heard of this meat, therefore I am qualified to prepare it. The butcher sets me up with an embarrassment of meaty riches . . . this was the giantest thing I'd chosen (pretty randomly) to defrost a few days ago. 
Flavorized with a smidgen of olive oil, dry rosemary, salt, pepper, and oregano, this is what it looked like about an hour in. Look at that glorious fat! No, I do not clean my oven. Why?
After it came out of the oven, I set it under the Chicken of Destiny's beak. I am quite sure he was impressed.
As it cooked, I'd busied myself with making mashed potatoes . . . now, let me get this right . . . "from scratch." Holy macaroni! I boiled the potatoes and threw in some chopped onions and smashed garlic cloves with 15 minutes left on the clock. Afterward I scooped out most of the onion remnants, drained the potatoes, smashed them (mostly), threw in a few fresh onion shreds, butter, milk, butcher pepper, and some garlic salt. After a lot of cursing and slopping potatoes all around, this is how it looked.
A note on onions: holding a match in your teeth really does work with the onion-cutting tears. I didn't have blue tips, but I have plenty of other types. I didn't know if there was some magic to blue tips for some reason, but the standard matches worked like a charm.
Look at this mess. I have to clean this later, you know. But for now, this is apparently the beginning of the groovy gravy. Pretty gross. It didn't start off well. At first it kind of smooshed together like some kind of evil taffy. Fatty taffy. Ew. It was the first time I'd ever made gravy all on my own, so I was kind of like Towelie from South Park ("No, you're a towel!"), but it turned out pretty well.
When I cut into the meat, I was so sure I'd under-cooked it, but lookit here. About a medium, I think? Not bad. The trick, I discovered, was letting that meat just sit there for awhile...I think I let it sit for about 15 to 20 minutes. It doesn't go stone cold, first of all, but more importantly the juices get trapped inside and it just kind of permeates. I can testify that it was one of the juiciest roast beefs I have ever had. That's RIGHT. Look at Mr. Roastypants! He's saying howdy. I've gone insane. 
Finally, the finished piece. Ta-da! Now I don't have to cook again for another year. Isn't it fantastic? The "salad" is what it looks like: ripped Romain drizzled with basic Italian dressing. Look at the gravy, though! It wasn't bad...needed more salt...but full of char-y bits and full of potential. The potatoes were Perfect...this is something I can actually make. And the roast beef? Look at the Chicken of Glory crowing happily at the sight of it. I cooked!
And, like a lunatic might, documented the whole thing. Now, the dishes.
This time around, my impulse was inspired by a hunk of meat identified as "Roast Beef" . . . I have heard of this meat, therefore I am qualified to prepare it. The butcher sets me up with an embarrassment of meaty riches . . . this was the giantest thing I'd chosen (pretty randomly) to defrost a few days ago. 
Flavorized with a smidgen of olive oil, dry rosemary, salt, pepper, and oregano, this is what it looked like about an hour in. Look at that glorious fat! No, I do not clean my oven. Why?
After it came out of the oven, I set it under the Chicken of Destiny's beak. I am quite sure he was impressed.
As it cooked, I'd busied myself with making mashed potatoes . . . now, let me get this right . . . "from scratch." Holy macaroni! I boiled the potatoes and threw in some chopped onions and smashed garlic cloves with 15 minutes left on the clock. Afterward I scooped out most of the onion remnants, drained the potatoes, smashed them (mostly), threw in a few fresh onion shreds, butter, milk, butcher pepper, and some garlic salt. After a lot of cursing and slopping potatoes all around, this is how it looked.A note on onions: holding a match in your teeth really does work with the onion-cutting tears. I didn't have blue tips, but I have plenty of other types. I didn't know if there was some magic to blue tips for some reason, but the standard matches worked like a charm.
Look at this mess. I have to clean this later, you know. But for now, this is apparently the beginning of the groovy gravy. Pretty gross. It didn't start off well. At first it kind of smooshed together like some kind of evil taffy. Fatty taffy. Ew. It was the first time I'd ever made gravy all on my own, so I was kind of like Towelie from South Park ("No, you're a towel!"), but it turned out pretty well.
When I cut into the meat, I was so sure I'd under-cooked it, but lookit here. About a medium, I think? Not bad. The trick, I discovered, was letting that meat just sit there for awhile...I think I let it sit for about 15 to 20 minutes. It doesn't go stone cold, first of all, but more importantly the juices get trapped inside and it just kind of permeates. I can testify that it was one of the juiciest roast beefs I have ever had. That's RIGHT. Look at Mr. Roastypants! He's saying howdy. I've gone insane. 
Finally, the finished piece. Ta-da! Now I don't have to cook again for another year. Isn't it fantastic? The "salad" is what it looks like: ripped Romain drizzled with basic Italian dressing. Look at the gravy, though! It wasn't bad...needed more salt...but full of char-y bits and full of potential. The potatoes were Perfect...this is something I can actually make. And the roast beef? Look at the Chicken of Glory crowing happily at the sight of it. I cooked!And, like a lunatic might, documented the whole thing. Now, the dishes.
Labels: oh no she didn't
posted by Shiny at 9:38 PM
2 Comments:
You are so funny Lovey. Of course you can cook. You just don't want to. I clearly remember you telling me at age 15 that you already knew how to cook everything (Kraft macaroni and cheese, hamburgers and Ramen noodles) you would ever want to cook and you did not want cooking lessons...until you had a serious boyfriend and wanted to cook for him. And thus began the long distance cooking lessons (you in Lawrence at KU and me in Wichita). I really enjoy knowing that story. You are a pearl of great beauty and I love you very much. You're laughing out loud Maw =)
the rooster has defeated the evil meat and cocka-doodle-doos in triumph.
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