The corned beef and cabbage in the slow cooker was a success. Well, most of it was. The corned beef, finished as second favorite, with the Irish soda bread I made, coming in first. But, when I think about it, I should have expected those results – I live in a house full of carb-loving kids.
By mid-morning I placed the beef, potatoes and carrots in the slow cooker. Halfway through, I put in the cabbage, and continued to wonder how it was to turn out. With two hours left, I began to really smell the dinner cooking, which gave me some confidence that the dinner would be edible. I made the soda bread at lunchtime, and ran to the store to get green Jell-O for dessert, to complete the Irish theme . . oh, I also bought some Guinness for the big kids.
A handful of minutes before the time on the slow cooker ran down to zero, I pulled the beef out to start carving. As Greg plated up the dinner, I could see him stealing bites here and there, “yummm,” I could hear him say.
Despite Greg’s affirmation of the results, I was readying myself for mutiny at the table. The chorus of “YUCK” I felt I was bound to hear when the kids made their way to the table. I’m a glass half full kind of girl, loving the prospect of being pleasantly surprised when my mind has set the bar low. I have to say, I was surprised. No resounding “Yuck,” although the mushy carrots elicited a response from Nicole when placed on her plate.
(They had to be removed totally, no residue on the plate at all). There were requests for ketchup, which proved to be a help in getting the meat down. Some day soon, we’ll have to put the kids on a ketchup detox program, so that they can learn to enjoy foods without the condiment camouflage. But, today, isn’t the day to do it. They’re eating the corned beef, for the most part refusing the potatoes (but my kids are not potato eaters), and we’re enjoying a bit of dinner conversation. Grayson, who happened to be in his underwear, was a bit worried that a leprechaun might pinch him because he wasn’t’ wearing green (a story that makes the rounds in preschool and kindergarten). Luckily, Daddy noticed that there was a bit of green in the car on his undies, so he was safe. OH, the wonderful St. Patrick’s Day conversations we have!
I think back to when I as a kid, and I always loved the day, as we ran around saying “Kiss me I’m Irish,” to everyone we saw. Mainly, it was a day we were allowed to break our Lenten fast – and eat the candy we had given up for Lent. As well, there was always a great meal prepared by my Irish grandma, who lived with us. The same green and white checked tablecloth she placed on the table every St. Patrick’s Day now covers ours.
I turn to Greg, smiling that the day, and the dinner, was a success. “Kiss me I’m Irish,” I say to him. He has no problem obliging.
