It's About Me

I like sales. I like sales on food. I really like sales on big hunks of meat. In particular I get giddy when I find beef of any kind on sale and I scored big time this week, twice.

Score one, rib eyes at Brookshires for $3.99 a pound. Not crappy, fatty, gristle laden steaks, but 3/4 inch thick juicy marbled goodness.

Yo baby come to momma. I aged these two ways, one I left them open in the fridge for a few days. Second, I coated them in kosher salt and garlic before I stuck them in the fridge. I’ll write about that part later, but do it. You’ll be glad you did.

Second score of the week was this bad boy.

Ten full pounds of all American beef. For $1.99 a pound!

Really! Aren’t you giddy now too?

Beef. Beef. Beef! Let’s cheer beef!

Okay.

I’ll stop.

But beef on sale makes me giddy.

I planned to get four roasts out of that hunk. I reached into the knife drawer and pulled out my most expensive non-appliance kitchen purchase ever. My first Wusthof knife. I spent $120 on this knife in a time when we really didn’t have the money. Good knives should always be sharp so I bought the most expensive knife sharpener to go along with it. If I’m going in the hole for a knife, I might as well go all the way, right?

Sheer beauty. And by beauty, I don’t mean the dent in the tip of it.

Dents?

In the tip of the world’s most expensive knife?

Yes, dents. Let me explain.

Once upon a time in a world far away, my darling hunka chunka wanted to show the nephew the difference between bagged coconut and fresh.

See where I’m going here?

He used a, a…(sniff, small cry) hammer, and my (sobbing gasp) World’s Most Expensive Knife to crack that sucker open.

And then…

THIS HAPPENED!

Doesn’t this break your heart? It sure did mine, and he hid it for as long as possible. I could have killed him, but since I love him, I just slapped him around a little bit.

And I might have spit in his food.

Kidding!

Or am I?

So with the world’s most expensive dented tip knife, I cut the right side off into two big chunks.

Then packaged them up into Foodsaver bags so they won’t get burned in the freezer. I love my Foodsaver.

I was going to freeze the whole thing, but since I’ve started doing the homesteading thing I thought I should can the other half. I’m learning to not put all my eggs in one basket, or in this case, all my meat in one freezer. If the freezer goes out I’d be hosed. Canning and freezing the same items ensures that we’ll have something to eat should something go wrong. Plus, canning meat is better than buying pre-made stuff at the store that has ingredients you can’t pronounce. Why buy Hormel Roast Beef when you can have your very own in a jar right in your cabinet!

Go beef!

To make sure this raw blob of bloody meat actually tastes like roast I needed to prepare it first. I plopped the two massive chunks in my favorite skillet.

I sprinkled both sides with salt, cracked pepper and garlic powder. With the heat on pretty high, the spices turn a golden brown and get crispy, sealing in flavor.

Looking through all the pictures I’ve taken, I failed to take a picture of the the crispy crust. Silly me. Sear both sides about 5 minutes or so each side. Trust me, you’ll thank me later, even if I didn’t show you a picture of it.

Set the meat aside and let it rest. Let’s use that beautiful crunchy goodness in the bottom of the pan to make some juice. Pour in some water, and break up those browned bits of spice and meat on the bottom of the pan.

Earlier when I pulled the meat out of the package there was a bit of fat on the bottom. Normally I leave that on and sear it like crazy when I make a pot roast, but I knew I was canning meat later so I cut it off and browned it.

Put it in the pan of watered bits.

Let it boil up with the gravy for awhile to get a lot of flavor infused in the juice.

Oh my. Half the floor is being swept by dog tails, while the other half is getting soaked by drool.

Dog slobber. It’s my favorite wrinkle cream.

Gauge and Cassie are lucky dogs.

Yes, they ate it all. I got roasty dog kisses for this little snack and undying devotion. At least until the hunka got home.

While the gravy and fat melded into gravy goodness I prepped the pressure cooker. No little water bath for these babies. Nope, gotta let them cook for awhile.

Put a couple inches of water in the pressure cooker. When I first got this cooker, I was under the impression that like a water bath, the water had to be over the top of the jars. The stuff I canned is good, but let me tell you, it took FOREVER. Have you ever tried to boil 24 quarts of water? That’s full of jars? And food?

Let my inexperience be your guide. Don’t. Don’t fill it. Don’t cover the jars. Just put some water in the cooker so you can create the boil, that creates the pressure, that cooks the food, to seal the jars.

Got it?

Good. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t pass along that little nugget of info.

Do you have hard water?

Do this too.

Pour about a quarter cup of vinegar in the water. It’ll keep the white film off your jars. We have seriously hard water. Pour the vinegar. You’ll thank me later.

Put your empty jars in the cooker, put a little of the water in them so they don’t float away and turn the heat up on high. While you’re waiting for the water to heat up, cut your meat into jar sized chunks.

Take the fat out of the gravy, let it cool, and give it to the dogs. If the puddle under my feet got any deeper I’d have to take swimming lessons. Or mop. And I don’t like doing either.

Take your jars out of the cooker, pouring the water back in the pot. Throw in the jar lids so they get hot while you’re filling the jars. Don’t boil those lids.

Pack the jars with your seared but yet still raw meat, and pour that gravy goodness into your jars. Fill the jars to within an inch of the top.

The jar on the left has too much liquid. The jar in the middle doesn’t have enough. The jar on the right is just…right.

If you don’t have enough gravy, use water. As the meat cooks, it’ll condense the juice into the best pot roast gravy you’ve ever had. Don’t worry about it. Use water if you need to. Just make sure you fill it to within an inch. Not too much. Not too little.

Put your lids on, put the bands on, and put your jars in the cooker. Seal the lid. In about 5 minutes, with the heat on high, your cooker will start building pressure. Put the regulator on when you get a constant steam hiss from the hole. Let the pressure build to 10 to 15 pounds. The 10 pound range is best.

Mine stayed at a steady 15 because my pot was on the back burner and every time I turned it down, and moved the pot back, the pot moved the knob back to high.

My pot is always on the back burner. In fact, most everything I really like to do, is on the back burner. But that’s how I roll.

In about an hour, you’ll have cooked pot roast.

These jars are straight out of the cooker. They’re bubbling and boiling and will for another 30 minutes. As they cool, they’ll seal so tight you’ll need a bottle opener to pry the lids off.

As they cool, let them sit. Don’t touch them. Don’t turn them, don’t shake them. Let them cool right where they are without being fooled with. They’re temperamental like that.

Once cooled completely, take the bands off and wash good. These jars will last in your pantry fo-evah. But why wait that long. Next week, when you’re running into the house from picking up the kids, milking the cow, training the dogs, building a web site, chopping wood, sewing a quilt and cleaning the baseboards you’ll be so happy that half your dinner is already done. Pop some bisquits in the oven, throw together a salad, and eat pot roast.

You’ll be glad you canned some meat.

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