I forgot to take photos of most of this meal, so like, I dunno, maybe I’m making it all up. But I had two missions for today:
- Make up for the “Christmas Incident”
- Convince our friend that mashed potatoes are Actually Good
I accomplished at least one of those goals so in your face “Saint” Nick.
Also who can guess out of all the food I made, what two things did my children eat?
Lets start off with the easiest part: the roast beef. I got a shoulder clod roast from the local butcher (no, seriously) because it’s a ton cheaper than a standing rib roast, tastier and less prone to drying out than a bottom round, and unlike the standing rib roast, makes great sandwiches the next day since there is very little intramuscular fat that just ends up waxy and inedible. Sure, it’s not nearly as instagram worthy, but who the fuck uses instagram?
I covered it in salt and pepper and let it sit on the counter for an hour before putting it in a 225º oven until it hit 130º in the very center. This took about four hours. My roast was like 5.5 lbs. Or “libs” as my kids call it. Why the fuck are we still teaching kids the imperial measuring system anyway.
School hasn’t happened in a fucking year, so we’re just teaching them how to have remote jobs they hate, do the bare minimum, and not get fired. I guess that’s probably a more valuable lesson than the fact that a team of eight goddamn oxen can plow 6,272,646 square inches in a day, on average. This actually might be useful data when my parent’s generation finally succeeds at riding the planet hard and putting it away wet. Why can’t the boomers just die of dysentery already. (Every loves a good Oregon Trail reference, right?)
Speaking of the British, lets talk about Yorkshire Pudding.
It is in my opinion though that if you’re gonna make a roast you’d better make a Yorkshire Pudding along side it, and then if you’re gonna do that you might as well make gravy too since a Yorkshire Pudding without gravy is like every single non-Jawbreaker Blake Schwartzenbach project starts off fine, and sure, like, there are some real fucking gems, but ultimately disappointing to the utmost extent.
I used Kenji’s Yorkshire Pudding recipe since it really is the best. There wasn’t enough beef fat (unless you’re doing a standing rib roast there never is) to get all the fat I needed so I used some Low Acid Canadian Oil. (Clever bit of marketing there, Canada, eh?) The gravy was some mushrooms and onions, cooked in butter until they got real nice and soft, some flour to make a roux and then chicken stock and drippings from the beef, along with some worcestershire and soy sauce for complexity and depth. I use 1oz (by weight) of butter and flour each to 2 cups of liquid. If you want it thicker you might be a serial killer.
I also tried to convince my friend that mashed potatoes are more than the sum of their parts, or at least a worthwhile dairy fat delivery mechanism, but I don’t think I was as successful as I intended. I mean if you don’t enjoy boiled, riced potatoes mixed with cream, butter, whole milk, salt and pepper, who I am to judge? Oh wait. I am. And judge I do. Perhaps we should have podded with people who aren’t secretly psychopaths.
So what two things did my kids eat? It was Yorkshire Pudding and the corn. Oh I didn’t mention the corn? That’s because it’s fucking corn. It comes frozen, in a bag. You heat it up and add salt and pepper. I used smoked salt because I am bourgeois as a motherfucker. I think my kids only eat it because it comes out the way it goes in. This way we can make it a game and see who can digest their food the fastest.