It started with an Instant Message to my husband. "I can't make the roast stop bleeding." It goes on from there. Be happy I'm not providing pictures. If you're a vegetarian you may want to stop reading now.
I have a confession to make.
I do have a section on here entitled Recipes. And I do talk about food...a lot...but in reality I am not a very good cook. I'm not a good cook and I'm the daughter of a not very good cook (sorry Mom). In fact, my parents joke that my father taught my mother how to cook. And all he knows to make is spaghetti.
So I get a bit confused when someone hands me a nice piece of meat.
My mother did buy meat on occasion. Mostly hamburger. For hamburgers. But every so often she bought a pork chop or swiss steak and would fry it until it was the right color or put it on a cookie sheet in the oven until it was the right color.
Until we started buying meat from a farm I really had no idea of all the cuts available. Even now I still have to look some things up and get an idea of what I'm dealing with.
I didn't worry about that too much yesterday when I was cooking a beef roast. Roasts, like chickens seem pretty foolproof. It's more about knowing when to take them out than anything else.
I was wrong.
I was making raisin bread yesterday and the oven was warm so I decided to pop the thawed roast in. I rinsed it carefully and put it in a large casserole dish. I put a little bit of olive oil on and rubbed it in. I added some salt and pepper.
An hour later I checked How to Cook Everything. 125 degrees for rare. 155 degrees for well. Don't let it get over 155 degrees. It was 140-160 degrees in different sections. I took it out. It was sitting in a pool of thick, brown, sticky stuff and the inside was bright red. BRIGHT red. I put it back in.
10 minutes later..still red.
30 minutes later...still red.
An hour later...still red.
Now it's been two hours. It's reading at least 155 or more everywhere on the roast. I cut into it and blood flicks out onto my bread. There's blood on the knife. There's blood bubbling up when I stick my fork in. I pick it up and drain it over the sink, rinse out the pan, and stick the whole mess back in the oven.
Men sure are carnivores. I was hoping my husband would know what to do. I shut off the oven and gave the boys another piece of bread and butter. He came home half an hour later.
He took it out. Looked at it. Said that it was indeed red. Left it on the counter. Got a dish of cranberry sauce. Went to go install a dvd drive on his computer. Eventually I went and put it away.
So now I have to ponder...why was it so red? Was it not done? Did the butcher not drain it properly? Was the dish I used too small? And most of all, why can't Google help me figure this out??
Any thoughts welcome.
On another note, I'm thinking of hennaing my hair (nice segue, I know). Henna is an herb used for thousands of years for dying hair red. It doesn't coat the hair shaft (like other dyes do) but pierces and strengthens the hair shaft. This also means that you can't strip the color as easily as a regular dye.
I'm trying to remind myself that hair changes when you're housebound or bored are not the best idea (I had to learn not to cut my own bangs the hard way), but it's so fun setting up little dye experiments with castoffs from my hairbrush that I'm not listening to reason yet.
Today I gave my children a good example of why wool needs carding. While making swatches of my hair from the bag I've been saving them in I came to the realization that my hair is like a pair of black corduroy pants. I had at least one child say, 'mom, is that what your hair looks like??'
I guess they can't see it way down there. I'll have to bend down a bit more often.