I think when my siblings read this posting, they'll all have a good laugh. Pot roast is a long standing joke in my family. We've descended from a long line of bad cooks. Our mother passed that along to all of us. But she did know how to make pot roast. Or at least a version of pot roast that my father absolutely loved. Since it was about the only thing she knew how to make, she made it often.
There was also a rule in our house that you had to clean your plate before you could ask to be excused from the table. And we hated pot roast. Once we left home, I think each of us vowed never to make a pot roast in our adult lives. But I happened to marry a man who loves pot roast.
The other day I saw a huge piece of meat defrosting in the refrigerator. Five pounds of a red slab of bloody beef I knew was meant for a pot roast. I got up on Saturday morning to find potatoes, onions, carrots and green beans all cut up and ready to go. The slow roaster had also made an appearance out from its hiding place in the bottom cupboard. I assembled our dinner, set the time on the slow cooker and went to work.
When I arrived back home, dinner was ready. Pot roast is seemingly a perfect meal. And Richard and I are not the only ones who think so. Instead of her usual dog food for dinner Richard heaped Ginger's dish with carrots, beans, and meat all covered with the beefy broth.
Slurp, slurp, slurp. Lick, bang, burp. Ginger's little brown head and fuzzy paws popped up on the corner of the kitchen table. Richard picked up her dish and looked at his reflection in the gleaming stainless steel. He refilled it and set it back on the floor. Slurp, burp, gasp.
"Wow, she really likes the pot roast." I commented.
In a nano second the she emptied the dish for the second time. Licked clean. She stood on her hind legs looking for more.
Ginger is a very picky eater. I've never seen her wolf down any kind of food like she did the pot roast. We spoil her rotten lacing her dog food with treats and people food just to get her to eat. It's not unusual for her to not eat for a full day if she decided to turn her nose up at what was in her dish.
I looked over at Richard's plate. It was also licked clean.
To my sister and brother, it doesn't matter if you can't boil water or follow a recipe. Making a pot roast everyone, even the dog loves....
It's in the genes.
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