I eat leftovers. The Bride doesn’t.
We’ve gone round and round about this. Waste not, I tell her. She smiles. I offer leftovers. She mulls it over and says, “No… not today. I think I’ll just have…”
Now I just refashion the leftovers into something new, which The Bride usually eats and enjoys. But just taking something out, opening the Tupperware, heating it up and serving it… well, that doesn’t fly for The Bride, which is funny, because The Bride doesn’t cook. I often think, “beggars can’t be choosers.” I have learned to think before I speak, so it remains a thought, not words and The Bride and I remain happy.
But everyone now and then karma wins. This weekend, with The Bride away, karma won.
For Christmas I made a delicious prime rib from our organically grown local steer. It was simply stunning:
When it came time for clean up I knew I wanted to do something with the bones. I tossed them in the freezer for a later date. That later date came in February on a cold Saturday when I was home alone. I pulled out the bones and began researching ideas.
It’s sad really how little creativity the “professional” kitchen and cooking web sites offer. The vast majority of a Google search basically said, “make soup” or “make stock.”
Finally I found an idea to convert those bones into what they really are: ribs.
I made a batch of Effin Artist Barbecue Sauce. Then I poured some sauce and water in a Dutch Oven and put the bones in there. Two hours later, I served myself a platter of excellence as pictured at the top of this post.
The cabbage is a brilliant rip-off from The North Woods Inn in Southern California, a place I’ve been going to for birthday dinners since I was about seven and my dad told me the snow on the roof was real, the bear in the lobby could spring back to life and yes, we really could throw peanuts on the floor.
When I get around to making a list of my favorite restaurants, The North Woods Inn will be on it. Forty years later and I still can’t wait to go there on my birthday.
As I ate, I kept pausing to simply lick my fingers and RELISH the food I was eating. Food makes me happy, but this was different. It was memorable. And it was from leftovers.
And The Bride missed out. Karma.
But I have to admit, even as I ate, I thought about saving a couple for her when she got home. They were that good. I thought about it.. and thought about it… until:
Nope. This was one for the guy who eats the leftovers.
Like I said, Karma.