the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

get it here.

If you're out of state or can't be bothered to drive out to the boondocks just now, though, here's my recipe. As each dish I prepare has its special situation which makes it unrepeatable and because I don't really measure anything, I'll walk you through this experience.

First, go buy some wine. You need to purchase a big honking box of dry white wine, the cheapest you can find. This time, I picked up a 3 liter box of Corbett Canyon, a Chenin Blanc - Pinot Grigio mix, for about $12.* Cooking with real wine has several perks. The most obvious one is cost; "cooking wine" is crazy expensive, and I've never figured out why.

* The last time I cooked with wine, I sent Mich for "the cheapest dry white wine you can find," and she brought home a bottle of Yellowtail Chardonnay, worth about $8. It worked, too, but we felt compelled to drink at least one glass of it as it is pretty good stuff. Consequently, the turkey didn't get as much as I would have preferred.

When you buy regular (cheap) wine to cook with, you can dump as much as you want into the roaster without any pangs of guilt. And whatever is left over, you can sample as you cook, and/or offer it to guests as the "house wine."

Next, go to the grocery store and pick up two chunks of the cheapest, stringiest meat you can find. Chuck or rump roast is great. But get two of them. Why? Because every damn time you cook pot roast, you run out of meat while you still have two or three pounds of vegetables. So double the meat.

You'll also need peppers. I usually use a couple of fresh jalapenos, but they were so huge this time that I figured they wouldn't be very spicy, so I picked up a single habanero instead.

Get some carrots. I got a bunch of old-fashioned ones, in this case (you know...the kind you have to chop and peel yourself). Get 3-5 pounds of taters, a passel of the cheapest onions you can find, and...that's about it. Oh, wait. A mess of fresh mushrooms. I'm using baby bellas; not only are they more flavorful than the usual white ones, but they are firm and stand up to cooking well. (I'm going to assume you already have salt and pepper and tons of minced garlic because I don't know how you presume to cook without it).

Go home, put the wine and the meatstuffs in the fridge, and wait until about 6pm. Find the roasting pan you haven't used since the Thanksgiving turkey. It should be in the back corner of the pantry on the floor. You'll find the cats have been nesting in it. Wash it. Do us a favor and wash your hands, too.

Pour yourself a sample of the wine - at least a cup - and put on some good tunes, like Blue Man Group. You're ready to begin.

Dump wine into the roaster until it's about an inch deep. Put both of your roasts in there side by side, fatty side up. This will allow the fat to seep through them as they roast. Quarter all your onions (you can't really overdo this part, so don't worry), and drop them into the wine. Quarter the habanero and place the quarters in the corners.

Do not scratch your eye at this point. Do not touch yourself in any way at all. Go straight to the sink and wash your hands thoroughly with warm water and soap before you proceed. These peppers could be used as biological weapons.*

* If you're using jalapenos - and I wouldn't blame you - mince up a couple of them and toss them into the wine (not the one you're drinking, which, by the way, probably needs a refill). Do not, under any circumstances, mince the habanero. We want the roasts to be edible.

OK. Now take a giant spoon and add garlic to the roast mixture. My rule of thumb is that you can almost never over-garlic meat. I add what I think is enough, then add a couple more spoons for good measure. Emeril would be proud.

Add salt and pepper "to taste" (although, like most recipes, you won't taste it until it's too late to flavor it properly). Carefully seam a couple of foil pieces together to avoid any escapage of steam or flavor, then seal the mixture into the pan. Put it in the oven at 200 degrees, and leave it overnight.

Feed the pets in a futile attempt to distract them. Have some more wine.

Morning. 8am. Your house should smell amazing. If it doesn't, you've done something wrong - like perhaps decide to let the pie drippings from last Thanksgiving just burn off of the bottom of the oven so you wouldn't have to clean it.

Pull the roast out and carefully remove the foil.

Test for doneness with a fork. If the meat doesn't just fall apart, you've (again) done something wrong, like forget to turn on the oven.

You should have a giant pot roast soup now. I like to tear the roast into chunks at this point. It makes serving it so much easier. All you need is a spoon.

Chop all the potatoes and carrots and mushrooms into large chunks, and drop them on top of the chaos in the pan. Sprinkle with more salt and perhaps some parsley. Put the foil back over it and cook at 350 until done (a couple of hours).

If your housepets aren't going nuts about now, they may be overfed. Or their noses don't work.

You'll end up with enough food to feed a platoon. If you have single serving storage containers, divide it and store a few in the fridge and the rest in the freezer, but only after you've porked out to your heart's content.

d