I’ve never been particularly excited about cooking, or grocery shopping, or even eating, really. I would go to the store with a list, but never really a plan, buy what looked good, then spend the next few days trying to figure out what to make with all those random ingredients. Dinner was a chore to be avoided until the last possible second (usually when I saw The Manly Man’s car pull into the driveway). We always seemed to suffer from the-fridge-is-full-but-there’s-nothing-to-eat syndrome.

Recently, something is different. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’ve been enjoying the whole plan/shop/ingredient/prep/cook/serve/eat process for several weeks, now. (Okay, I don’t enjoy the shopping trip, but I do enjoy selecting fresh veggies, meats, etcetera while at the store. That’s a start, right?) For me, it was a matter of confidence in the kitchen. I don’t know what the catalyst was, but some how *bang* there it was. But then everything in my life seems to be so great right now, that maybe it’s all just a state of mind.

Below is the recipe I used to cook the best meal I’ve ever made. I checked my receipt and spent less than $8.00 for all of the fresh ingredients (I had everything else on hand, and you probably do, too), and there was easily enough to feed two more adults or several more kids.

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Beef Pot Roast (from BH&G New Cook Book, 1989 edition)

1 beef chuck pot roast (mine was about 2.5 lbs, and it was the biggest I could fit in my pan)
oil to brown meat (use Canola, it’s better for you than corn oil)
3/4 cup water, dry wine, or tomato juice
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon or one cube instant beef bouillon
1 teaspoon dried basil
12 ounces whole tiny new potatoes (you could use larger potatoes or sweet potatoes, cubed)
8 small carrots or parsnips (I used two large carrots and one parsnip, but I was running out of room)
2 small onions, cut into wedges (I didn’t have room to add any this time, whoops)
2 stalks celery, bias-sliced into 1-inch pieces
1/4 cup all-purpose flour

Trim fat from roast, and brown meat in hot oil. Drain fat. Combine water, Worcestershire, bouillon, and basil. Pour over roast, bring to boiling, then simmer, covered, for an hour. Add vegetables to pot and simmer for another 45-60 minutes (I found that the celery and parsnip didn’t need that much time–put them in for the last 20 minutes or so). When done, remove meat and veggies from pan.

For pan gravy, measure juices, skim fat. Add enough cold water to equal 1 1/2 cups. Combine flour and 1/2 cup cold water, whisk together thoroughly, then add back to the juices. Mix well and return to pan. Cook and stir until thickened and bubbly, season to taste, serve.

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I don’t have a dutch oven for stove top use, so I had to make due with my 10-inch cast iron skillet. It was a little small, so I couldn’t quite fit all the veggies. Next time I’ll use both skillets, and cut the roast in two, or maybe even only cook 1/2 of the roast and save the other half for later (we only finished half of it last night).

A photo tutorial for my dad who finally admitted that he has only worn the socks which I hand spun and knit for him two years ago ONE TIME because he doesn’t know how to wash them. At least I can be fairly certain that he hasn’t worn the heels out.

(I posted several times about his socks here, here, here, here, and here.)

Daddy, I will shame you into washing your socks if I have to.

Step One: Fill the sink with hot water.

Step Two: Add a little dish soap when the sink is almost full, so it doesn’t get too sudsy.

Step Three: Add socks, and allow to sink into water on their own.

Step Four: Gently swish and squeeze socks as needed to remove dirt. Usually just soaking is enough, unless you’ve been running around in the mud with just your socks on. (And if that’s the case, then I don’t want to know about it, because it will just make me crazy.)

Step Five: Gently squeeze out the socks, drain the sink, and refill with same temperature water.

Step Six: Allow socks to briefly soak in rinse water, swish gently to remove detergent.

Step Seven: Gently squeeze out as much water as you can. You can roll the socks up in a towel and stand on it for a few seconds to get a lot of water out.

Step Eight: Reshape and lay flat on a towel to dry.

(PS, these are the leftover yarn baby socks I mentioned in yesterday’s post.)