Although I am a “word person,” I will admit there are times when words fail. Times when in desperation to describe something I break out my Roget’s and come away empty. Tonight’s dinner was one of those times.
This morning I went early to Sam’s Club (if you go early Monday morning the meat that didn’t sell over the weekend goes on sale—and I can buy meat I otherwise couldn’t afford) and found a fantastic beef roast.
This afternoon I rubbed it with a spice mixture I found on an “Emeril” website, which is nothing like Emeril’s rub because I had the serendipitous experience of not having some of the required ingredients and that made it perfect—a rub that enhances the meat without overpowering the essential flavors. While I slow roasted the meat, I made a creamed horseradish sauce (yes, I grated the horseradish root while my eyes watered), which came from a recipe book with recipes dated from the times of the American Revolution (or if you’re British, Colonial Rebellion). And before you ask, the horseradish root didn’t have mold yet—next time. (see Mold ) I also served perfect beans—long, thin beans barely heated through with butter, lemon juice, salt, and pepper. Because we were having Rebellion Roast I had to make Yorkshire pudding, which absorbs the meat juices and the spilled rub. YUM. To cleanse the palate between bites was a lovely Italian red table wine. (Thank you, Darren and Maggie!)
I could say the meal was delicious, delectable, or even divine (excuse the “D” thing), but none of that will suffice. It was as good as food gets. A feast. A promise of something that we rarely experience in this life.