So, did everyone else at least have a lovely St. Paddy’s Day? I hope so, because I most certainly did not. Mine was just one of “those days” where it snowed all through my morning commute, the design program I use at work crashed on me 12 times in the span of an hour (I mean literally 12, no exaggeration), the yoga class I wanted to take was cancelled because the instructor was sick (probably drinking green beer instead), and my fridge and freezer stopped working. Thankfully, I had some new episodes of Sherlock to comfort me – seriously, if you need to cure a bad day, just watch the scenes where Sherlock and Watson get drunk during a stag night. Aside from these short ribs, it’s my favorite thing this week.
I love short ribs. Love, love, love. I think it was the Pioneer Woman who described them as little pot roasts, and she’s right. I usually make short ribs by braising them in some combination of beef broth, red wine, vegetables and herbs, but I found this recipe, which calls for using Guinness, so I got myself in the St. Paddy’s Day spirit and made a batch for myself and my friend Jess.
Colin always half-jokes about how I’m going to clog his arteries and give him diabetes and make his heart explode because of my cooking. Never mind that I use olive oil and make vegetables with every meal, because he is convinced I am going to be the death of him.
Then he asks me to make chicken fried steak and I tell him that if his heart explodes it’s partially his fault because he ALWAYS asks me to make this — seriously, every time we have cube steak in the freezer — and he says that because it’s only a sometimes food it’s still all my fault.
I guess if I plan on ever having kids, I should get used to everything being my fault.
He’s right, though. Chicken fried steak really, REALLY should only be a sometimes food. Like, maybe a couple of times a year food. Because it’s double (or triple) battered and breaded, fried in oil that does not come from olives, then slathered in a creamy white gravy made of grease, flour, whole milk and salt. And usually served with creamy, buttery mashed potatoes. And vegetables. Because I care about my boyfriend’s arteries, and my own.