Sláinte! and appreciation for slow cookers and cold storage

St. Patrick's Day always inspires me to cook corned beef and cabbage, fully aware that this is not a traditional Irish meal.  My mother called it New England boiled dinner, and that's probably more appropriate.  Call it what you may, it's a dinner that lends itself well to slow cooking, even with my incredibly slow slow cooker.  According to lore, New Englanders with Irish origins--or not--celebrated the St. Patrick's holiday with what they had on hand: a tough cut of beef that had been preserved with brine, and the last of the winter vegetables.  Onions, carrots, parsnips, potatoes, and cabbage can all be kept through the winter in cold storage.  I must have a bit of luck, because I managed to source this entire dinner locally except for the pickling spices.  Thank goodness for local farmers with good cold storage and a plentiful harvest last fall!

My co-op had local carrots from Blue Moon's fall crop, and my "back alley" farmer Greg from Claybank Farms had some beautiful little Yukon Golds and a fat onion.  Cabbage from the co-op tops off the stew.  My slow cooker gets a little kick to pre-heat, and in goes a corned beef brisket (nitrate free!) from Triple S.  The brisket doesn't come with a little convenience pack of pickling spices, so I invent my own from what I can find in the cabinet:  peppercorns, bay leaves, cloves.  I can't find mustard seed, so instead I slather a whole-grain Maille mustard over the top.  I fill up the space with water, then spread sliced onions and chunky carrots over the top.  I'll cook that sweet little brisket for four or five hours, then add the chunky Yukon Golds for the last hour or so.  I'm not a fan of mushy potatoes or cabbage, so I usually sauté the cabbage in some of the broth and serve it with the brisket instead of putting it in the slow cooker.

Now I'm sure you have your own version of this marvelous dinner; some have leeks, parsnips, and a variety of spices.  I enjoy the simple flavors of the meat cooking into the veggies for this meal.  I'll soak up the juices with a loaf of local bakery Pekara's Irish soda bread.  Now, if only Guinness were local!

Doughnut-deprived

A couple of evenings ago, while we were eating with a friend at a Chinese buffet, my son made a startling admission.  My friend had remarked that what he was eating looked like a doughnut.

“I’ve never eaten a doughnut,” he replied.

How was that possible?!  My son has never eaten a doughnut?!

I suddenly thought guiltily of all the times as a small girl I went with my grandpa to the Donut Shop, and I always had a tough time choosing between Angel Creams and Bavarian Creams.  I was not a big fan of the cake doughnuts, preferring the yeast variety with filling.  Except for cherry.  I always hated cherry filling.  I could polish off two or three of those cream-filled babies with nary a blink of the eye.

But my son has never been to the Donut Shop.  He’s also never been to a fast food restaurant—unless you count Subway—except to go to the restroom.  That’s right.  No McDonald’s happy meals.  No Whoppers.  No drive-thrus.  When we want burgers, we go to a sit-down restaurant, or our favorite Esquire Lounge, and order burgers and fries.

I don’t think he’s suffering because of it.  He’s a healthy 5’ 1” and 110 pounds at the age of 11.  He’s got a lot of lean muscle, but still retains a small, healthy layer of baby fat, which usually completely disappears during soccer season.  He used to beg for McDonald’s, but mostly for the curiosity factor.  Now he asks to go to a Chinese buffet for sushi and egg rolls.

My son has never had a doughnut, but he’s enjoyed an aged Camembert with a crusty French baguette, something I hadn’t tasted until I was in my late teens.  He’s a huge fan of sushi and sashimi, picking up the chopsticks to tucker in.  He’s eaten wild boar and venison, slurped up raw oysters and perfectly cooked mussels.  He loves clam chowder and “green soup” made with a variety of green vegetables, including spinach.  He downs kale chips at the speed of light.  He’s sampled mangoes, litchis, papaya, pomegranates, and is a big fan of all of them.  He even fearlessly tasted chapulines, the roasted grasshoppers sold on the street in Oaxaca, Mexico.  He said he preferred the lime to the chili-flavored variety.

I’m under no illusion that he will never eat junk food.  I grew up without a television, and when I first moved into my own apartment, I spent many a sleepless night watching a lot of HBO, late-night re-runs, and a lot of other garbage, before I finally realized TV was not all it’s cracked up to be.  I can picture him going out with his teenage friends and tearing into a Big Mac or sharing a box of Krispy Kremes.  My only hope is that at some point he will remember his mother’s love affair with simple, fresh, organic, local, delicious, real food; hopefully, he will occasionally come home for supper and tell me that there’s nothing like home cooking to feed the body and the soul.

Now, to find a good doughnut recipe…