(Baked eggs and Corned Beef comfort food. Photo Betty Crocker, bless her soul.)
I am still stunned by the news of the suicide of a pal at her own hands. I have been told there is nothing I could have done, and I can appreciate that; the act of suicide being so awful and profound and solitary.
I don’t know but still bad. I needed to get my mind off something that no one can alter in any manner. Crap.
Last year had so many deaths, and this one had been blessedly free of the interface with the Great Beyond, at least on the home front. Now here it is, back again, eternity looked at us with that big unblinking eye.
There was the usual welcome distraction at Willow after work on Friday. The gang was there: Tall Matt, who was making his first Prime Time appearance after three weeks on the lunch shift at the bar; the Lovey Aimee, sloe-eyed Elizabeth-with-an-S; Jon-no-H with the vivacious Ms Bea.
Jerry-with-a-Y was sitting next to Old Jim, who kept his headphones on and his silence. I craved noise, and got it. Aimee was caustic and got a couple shots in at Old Jim who could not hear to respond. Touché!
Jerry enjoyed the fish tacos off the bar menu, but my appetite was spoiled from a large salad for lunch and couldn’t bring myself to order food. When I got home, the silence at home was oppressive. I got my trunks on to head down to the pool but a sudden peal of thunder bludgeoned the side of the building. I stuck my head over the balcony and called down to Martin, this year’s Polish lifeguard who was sitting under the umbrella by the gate.
“You didn’t hear that, did you?” I shouted.
“Yes. Pool now closed.”
Damn. Not even a plunge in the cool waters. The swiftly moving storm eliminated the chance of working off the bad thoughts.
Now that I thought about it, I was hungry after all. Comfort food seemed like the answer that would keep the Black dog at bay for a while. I looked in my 1962 Betty Crocker’s New Good And Easy Cookbook, which slumps in the line next to “The Joy of Cooking 1964” (ex libris Bomber Pilot Dick) on top of the refrigerator.
I found what I was looking for almost immediately. It would take some time, but would fill the unit with good odors and make a Saturday breakfast worth waiting for.
I rooted around in the freezer and found a corned beef that I got at the Commissary when they were on special after last St. Patty’s Day. I ripped open the little package of seasoning and sprinkled it on the meet, fat side up, and added sea salt and crushed garlic cloves. The meat was still frozen, but it didn’t matter.
I prefer to make my own corned beef hash from a slow-cooked beef I double foil-pouched the corned beef and put the package in the cast iron skillet that lives in the over and turned the heat on to “185” and left the timer set at twelve hours. Then I drank vodka and watched the storm sweep over Arlington, the dark sky lighting with flashes of anger.
When I got up there was a delightful smell throughout the place. I ground the Dazbog coffee beans for the coffee and then put on an oven mitt and pulled the skillet out to let the meat cool as I dropped six large peeled Yukon Gold potatoes into some salted water.
I downloaded the NY Times app for the new iPad and started to go through the madness of the wider world. I was startled to see that a former shipmate had just been designated Chief of Naval Operations- a good guy, I thought, and not nearly of the temperament of many of the other Submarine officers I have known.
That would be the last peer I have on active duty, so that will be a sea change when he goes at the end of his watch.
(Foil-pouched corned beef. Photo Socotra.)
There were a depressing number of new emails in the queue and I decided not to deal with them. I unwrapped the corned beef and drained the liquid and sliced off the remaining fat. Then I got out the cutting board and sliced and diced about a pound of if like they do at the BBQ Country pit at the truck stop on Rt. 29 down in Opal.
I was going for a two-phase assault on my senses. First, the corned beef hash. It is simple, and you can’t fail with this recipe:
Vics’s Hash:
1 pound of corned beef, beef brisket or pastrami
6 large potatoes, peeled and diced
1 (12 ounce) can corned beef, cut into chunks
1 medium vidalia onion, chopped
1 cup beef broth
Texas Pete hot sauce to taste
Sea salt and crushed fresh pepper to taste
You can food process the ingredients on “coarse” or just chop it all up as fine as you desire. It keeps for a few days in the reefer or just cook it all. In a large deep skillet, over medium heat, combine the potatoes, corned beef, onion, and beef broth. Cover and simmer until potatoes are of mashing consistency, and the liquid is almost gone. Mix well, and serve.
The following is for a medium mess of hash and eggs, Nature’s Wonder Food
Vic’s Hash and Eggs
4 – Eggs
2 Tbls. – Butter
1 Tbls. – Garlic (not in the recipe but I add it to everything I cook)
4 Tbls. – Cream
Sea salt & Crushed freshly ground black pepper & Cayenne to taste.
In the cast-iron skillet I added the hash and garlic, making sure the garlic was mixed through the hash thoroughly. I pressed the hash down firmly into the pan and cooked over medium high heat for 5-10 minutes and nice and crispy on the bottom. I flipped it over and cooked the other side, and then transferred it to a shallow Pyrex-brand baking dish. I took a ladle and pressed cavities in the hash and dotted with the fresh creamery butter.
Then I cracked a brown egg into each hole and seasoned with salt & pepper & cayenne. As the piece de resistance I topped each egg with a tablespoon of the cream.
I slid the skillet into the pre-heated oven and baked it at 350 degrees for fifteen minutes. You may have to keep an eye on it so that you do not overcook the eggs. I served it hot, straight from the dish, and realized I had made way too much. I wished I had fresh sourdough toast.
It was delicious, but it didn’t alter a damn thing. I thought I should have driven over to Bill and Edith’s diner on Columbia Pike and at least the drive would have taken my mind off things.
Maybe a good long swim will help later this morning, though I expect it will just take time, like everything else.
Copyright 2011 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com