For the first time in memory, Cranky and I decided not to make a corned beef dinner to celebrate St. Pat's. Not even after the huge success of corning our own brisket last year.
We're just a little tired of meat.
Things like that happen when you dine on fresh, local rabbit for five meals in one month. When you take a casual, scenic trip with friends that just happens to end at the Fatted Calf at Oxbow's food gymnasium in Napa, because you ain't getting out of there without charcuterie. I have duck rillettes to tell you about, and of course, we always buy a little mortadella and some other dry sausage. Beef jerkey. (I skipped the quail this time.) Bacon, always bacon. Ham.
So, we were tired of meat.
I had been thinking of making an Irish Stew for supper, but I couldn't really imagine needing to go out and buy lamb.
Besides, there is so much vegetation in the garden, skidding perilously toward overripeness. Lunch would just be some broccoli soup. (Hey, it's green!)
Then I put my drinking socks on.
Cranky asked me if there was anything special I'd like to eat. I think one of my stockinged feet twitched alluringly.
"Why don't you just get takeout?" I suggested.
What he took out was some perfectly cooked, sliced corned beef, prepared at our wacky local store, surprisingly delicious, and still warm.
So, we had corned beef sandwiches today, and never even had to contemplate the 4-lb. salted beef slab in its entirety. We even saved a little corned beef to make a wee bit o' hash later.
For the socks: Thank You, Beccy!!!
(Yes, sometimes three exclamation points are required.)