A QUICK TIP REGARDING CORNED BEEF

After years of seeing them available annually in mass quantities around Saint Patrick's Day, I finally decided to try my hand at cooking some corned beef. The meat came pre-seasoned in its own juices and spices and the directions on the package stressed simmering it for a relatively short time (I think it suggested three hours) in a standard stew or soup pot, but I called bullshit on that and instead opted for my tried and true crock pot. I used slightly more water than indicated on the package, in order to compensate for some of what would undoubtedly be lost to the slow-cooking process, and let it sit undisturbed on low heat for around twelve hours. Once finished it was tender beyond belief, and I transplanted it and its broth into a smaller pot, there to cool to room temperature before storing it overnight in the fridge. The overnight cooling allows the corned beef to "find its flavor" and congeal to a state of solidity that's perfectly conducive to thin-slicing.

The wonder of thin-slicing cold corned beef is demonstrated.

I suggest making this at least a day before you intend to serve it, and it re-heats like a dream.

MY FAMOUS SLOW-COOKED PULLED PORK (and Barbecue Loooooooooove Sensation Sauce)

When cooking tender, savory meats, what better attire than a shirt celebrating an infamous Wisconsin cannibal?

Spring is almost upon us and that means it's nearly time for me to start doling out heaping helpings of my famous slow-cooked pulled pork. It's a favorite among my friends and family, and now I will share its secrets with you, o lucky Gravy-Groovers!

The process is simplicity itself:

• First, get two pork shoulders with the bone left in, aka "pernil." (if you don't shop at some would-be fancy schmancy supermarket and keep it real by going to a commoner's market, the average one of these will cost you around ten-to-thirteen bucks, max.) Poke holes into the meat to accommodate however many garlic cloves you like — crack the garlic open first on a flat surface with the side of a wide knife to smack over it — and once the stuffing is done place the meat into a deep roasting pan.
• Season as you like, but I recommend salt and pepper, liberal sprinkling with adobo and that orange seasoning in packets that can be found along with Goya products in the "ethnic" food section at the local supermarket — specifically Sazon Goya Sin Achiote (Without Annatto) — making sure to season both sides, add about an inch of Dr. Pepper (some go with root beer, but I don't recommend it; the root beer flavor overwhelms the natural porky awesomeness, so fuck that), add a few shakes of liquid smoke — found in the aisle with the barbecue condiments — then tightly seal the roasting pan with a double thickness of heavy-duty foil and place it in an oven that's been pre-heated to 400 degrees. Let the pork cook and build up steam for about an hour, then drop the temperature to about 210-220 degrees and forget about it for the next twelve-to-fifteen hours. I mean it, just ignore the fuckers. When all is said and done, your pork should look like this:

Actual shot of pork just out of the oven after sixteen hours of slow-cookin'.

The meat will be tender like you won't believe, and take care to peel off the skin in one piece if possible (more on that shortly).

With the skin removed, the pork will reveal a glistening layer of artery-clogging tastiness and it's up to you to decide how much fat you want to leave attached when you pull it into a form more conducive to eating in a shredded mound, wrapped up in tortillas or on a sandwich. As anyone will tell you, the flavor is in the fat, so don't dump too much of it. But then again, if you're gonna eat this stuff you know what you're in for.

Once you've solved your fat issues, use a pair of meat tongs and grab the large bone that's visible in the pork. Grasp the bone firmly and tug; the bone will dislodge with the ease of pulling a finger out of a velvet glove.

The ease of the pull: note the complete and utter lack of meat adhering to the bone.

Once that's removed, poke around with a fork to locate any remaining smaller bones and gristle and remove that stuff. Then take a sturdy fork like one of those big fuckers some people favor for the grill — I don't, because poking meat lets the juices out; only use tongs or spatulas for grilling! — and gently swirl through the meat like you're using a frosting-spreader. The meat will fall apart like magic, and once you've made sure no excess bones or other such crud remains I would advise tasting the pork to determine if it needs any additional seasoning or tarting up. I'd go with some more adobo, salt, pepper or sage, but only you can know what's best for your by-now-drooling audience. Serve as is with some sauce of choice — I recommend making some of my patented Barbecue Loooooooooove Sensation Sauce — or throw that gorgeousness onto some white bread or a good potato roll and prepare to watch your guests go into spontaneous culinary orgasm.

The aforementioned Barbecue Loooooooooove Sensation Sauce is also a study in simplicity:

INGREDIENTS:

Cheap barbecue sauce
Honey
Garlic powder (I prefer Badia brand)
Brown/Deli mustard (Gulden's or Nathan's both rock)
Hot sauce (optional)

Take as much cheap barbecue sauce as you may need and put it into a big pot; blend in honey and mustard to taste and add a huge motherfucking shitload of garlic powder. Blend until somewhat smooth but thick, and keep in mind that the flavor should be sweet and garlicky. At this point it's up to you to add hot sauce if you want a bit of a kick to the concoction; if you seek that flavor I recommend Indi-Pep West Indian pepper sauce, but you use what you like (except for the green Emeril sauce; it's tasty but it will throw off the color. And the shit is pointlessly expensive).

And as for the previously set-aside pork skin, put it non-fatty side down onto a baking tray or cookie sheet and hit it with a little adobo and finely ground cayenne pepper. Heat the oven back up to about 300 degrees and put the skin there for about a half hour to forty-five minutes, checking occasionally with a spatula to prevent sticking. When it's crispy enough for your taste, take it out and cut into appropriate sizes for homemade pork rinds, but don't serve them until they're almost at room temperature. Can't you just feel your heart seizing up like a rusty and mud-mucked chainsaw?

FULLY LOADED GUMBO EL BUNCHO

Gumbo, cherished mainstay of Louisiana cuisine and one of the tastiest fucking dishes on the planet. As diverse as the people in the region that spawned it, there are literally dozens — if not hundreds — of ways to prepare a rich pot of gumbo and I have attempted at least seven different varieties only to arrive at my culinary gene-splicing of my favorite variations (chief of which is my mother’s brown roux specialty). Making a good batch of this sacred brew is an art form requiring patience, a knack for “measuring by intuition” and attention to both detail and the slowly simmering elixir, in other words, if you feel that you do not possess these traits, do not attempt this recipe and pass it on to someone who would feel more comfortable with it. If you’re gonna make gumbo, you’ve gotta do it right since gumbo cooking ain’t for the weak. Not scared off? Then let’s get badassed on the bayou!

INGREDIENTS:

Roux
Salt and Pepper (to taste)
Onions
Celery
Chicken Broth
Andouille Sausage (I recommend D'Artagnan brand)
Chicken
Alaskan King Crab legs (or canned crab meat)
Clam Juice

1 can crushed tomatoes
Jumbo shrimp
Gumbo File

Hail to the might and majesty of the roux!

The foundation of any good batch of the ‘Bo is a heartfelt roux. Roux is a mixture of flour and oil continually stirred over a medium hot flame until the mixture turns a chestnut brown; some prefer a lighter color for their roux but I find that the darker brown provides a headier flavor, but you can do it however you like. Blend the flour and oil slowly with a spatula, and I suggest adding salt and pepper (to taste) to the mix at this point. The roux is finished when it is somewhat pasty in thickness and has reached the shade of brown that floats your boat, but time-wise I usually stay at the stove and stir slowly for about a half-hour/forty-five minutes; this part of the procedure is a great time for functional meditation as you concentrate on the incredibly relaxing Zen of stirring. Also, depending on how much you need for your batch of gumbo, I suggest making a surplus of roux to save on the side. More on this shortly.

A surfeit of veggie goodness!

Next, chop up as much onion and celery as you may need and sauté in butter or oil until the veggies are somewhat soft. As mentioned previously regarding the roux, you may also want to prepare a surplus of the vegetables so that they can be combined with the surplus roux and frozen for when you may need it again; since making roux is a time-consuming activity you will pat yourself on the back for this time-saving bit of foresightedness when it is needed.

Behold the goodies!

Next, pour the veggies and roux into an eight-quart stock pot and mix thoroughly. Now pour in two quarts (or as much as you feel you may need; remember that much of my method is intuitive) of chicken broth, the can of crushed tomatoes and four Andouille sausages that have been cut into small, coin-shaped sections. NOTE: I recommend adding as much Andouille as possible since it adds a distinct flavor and spiciness to the mix, but keep in mind that the shit ain’t cheap; at my local supermarket they go for around six bucks per pound and that translates into two nine-inch sausages for about five bucks since a two sausage pack never quite equals a full pound. My average batch of gumbo requires at least four Andouille sausages, and in a pinch smoked sausage, Italian sausage and damn near any other sausage will do, but I’m snob for authenticity of flavor.

Bring this lovely mixture to a low boil and add the Alaskan King Crab Legs — for my standard batch I go with three pounds, which comes to around twenty bucks depending on the current market price —followed by the chicken. I recommend wings, legs and thighs over breasts since breasts tend to fall apart into stringy tendrils during a long, slow simmer; it’s still edible, but it’s just nicer to have a piece of solid chicken to sink your teeth into while enjoying the meal. Anyway, pour in one quarter of a bottle of clam juice and we’re off to the races. Once that comes to a boil drop it down to a low simmer, stirring periodically for three hours, taking care not to break up the chicken too much. NOTE: sometimes the roux portion of the mixture may stick to the bottom of the pot so pay attention and don’t let it settle to the bottom for too long.

At the end of the three-hour simmer add at least a pound of fresh, cleaned shrimp to the pot, along with a few shakes of gumbo file; file (pronounced "fee-lay") is ground sassafras which is used to thicken soups and stews, so apply as much as you need for the desired thickness. Let this boil for another five minutes and remove from heat. That’s it. You have now made a pot of gumbo.

I recommend making this the day before you intend to serve it since, much like almost any dish, the gumbo finds its flavor overnight, just make sure that it has fully cooled before putting it in the fridge. And for those who want more of a kick to the flavor, feel free to add whatever kind of hot sauce you like later, though thanks to the Andouille you probably won’t need to.

WITH ONIONS ON THE SIDE

While at my mom's home in Westport a while back, I prepared some simmered onions as a topping for the marinated steaks I cooked on her miniature Weber gas grill, and I figured I'd share this amazing taste-enhancer with all of you out there because the spring/summer cookout season is just about to start. Seriously, the following recipe does nothing but make whatever you add it to — burgers, hot dogs, steaks — that much better. My mom flipped for this, and you will too.

SHEL-BOB'S GRAVELBAR ONIONS (from "The Von Hoffman Brothers' Big Damn Book of Sheer Manliness")

Ring or chop enough onions to fill a skillet. Melt 1/2 stick of butter in the skillet, then dump in the onions. Add Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco sauce and lemon pepper to taste. Keep stirring and add 1/3 can or bottle of Budweiser beer as you go (NOTE: they make "sipper" cans of Bud, just like the sippers of Coca-Cola, so go for that. Or you can just butch up and drink the unused beer). Browned and ready in 10-15 minutes.

Here comes the spring and summer of '10 — time for grillin' and chillin'!!!

SIDE DISH IN EXCELSIS: THE MACARONI AND CHEESE OF THE GODS

Prepare to kiss this shit goodbye!

A few years ago, yet another person moved into the studio apartment across the hall from me; not much of a surprise there since this building has a staggering turnover rate, leaving myself and two other people as the only residents who have lived here for more than a few years. I didn’t see the new neighbor move in but one evening I heard the all-too-familiar strains of Devo’s “Snowball” coming through the paper-thin wall and had to introduce myself.

I knocked on the door and was greeted by a blonde twenty-something guy named Tim Holden. I think he expected me to request that he turn the music down, but I put his mind at ease by telling him of my rabid Devo-tion and invited him to drop in any time. During the time that he lived here Tim and I became good friends, sharing much music and many recipes, including his secrets for the perfect — and I DO mean perfect — macaroni and cheese.

At this point I would like to make a statement of priorities. My favorite things in the whole world are pussy, good food and rock ‘n’ roll. As rock ‘n’ roll is utterly irrelevant to this post, we’ll just leave that one out and return to the other two favorites.

There are very few things that I enjoy eating more than pussy, and this macaroni and cheese is one of them.

When I lived on Manhattan’s Upper West Side there was a rather chi-chi delicatessen a couple of blocks away from my apartment whose prices were what one would expect for the area and I would have totally ignored it if not for rumors of them making an exemplary macaroni and cheese. Now it’s a well-known fact that something as seemingly simple as macaroni and cheese can vary widely in terms of tastes ranging from mouthful-of-paste to the final word in sharp, cheesy goodness, so I purchased a half-pound of the deli’s offering with no expectations whatsoever. Let me just say that the flavor that I experienced that day was a life-changer and whenever I find myself in that neighborhood I always buy a pound of the stuff, but I’m seldom up there so I was totally screwed if I wanted some truly holy m & c. That is until Tim Holden hooked me up with the following recipe. If you are looking to avoid carbs and cholesterol, stop reading now and go eat a fistful of wheat germ; this one’s for us hedonists!

INGREDIENTS

24 oz. extra-sharp cheddar cheese
2 cans evaporated milk
4 eggs
Pasta (the type of noodles is up to you)
Powdered mustard
2 tablespoons of butter

NOTE: these are the basics for simple mac and cheese, but you can tweak it with shredded ham of crumbled bacon.

Boil your pasta of choice; I recommend either standard elbow noodles or hearty flat noodles. Drain and set to the side.

Take the cheese, and if it isn’t already shredded, shred it and put it into a sauce pot. Add two cans of evaporated milk and four eggs; slowly cook over low heat, stirring until the cheese has melted and the whole thing is velvety creamy. Next add powdered mustard to taste, but the mixture should have a certain tang to it. Then add the butter and blend it all together until smooth. Add to the drained pasta and mix thoroughly. Put the gloppy sludge into a baking dish and bake in an oven (no, duh!) on broil for a couple of minutes until the top browns. After that, let it sit at room temperature for five minutes and then stuff your fat face.

Spring this one on your family at Thanksgiving and be prepared to join the annals of holiday legends. Just remember to play to your audience and use the “better to eat than pussy” comment at your discretion.

SCRAMBLED EGGS 007

Ian Fleming (1908-1964): creator of James Bond and savorer of fine foods.

Always on the lookout for fun recipes, as well as being a big fan of delicately scrambled eggs, I thought I’d share Ian Fleming’s scrambled eggs instructions as prepared by James Bond in the short story “James Bond In New York” (as found in his 1963 travel book THRILLING CITIES). What really freaked me out was how similar this formula is to the way I have made the same dish since junior high school, minus the chives, and those of you who’ve had a breakfast made by me know what I’m talking about! Anyway, enjoy the culinary wizardry of the late, great Ian Fleming.

SCRAMBLED EGGS JAMES BOND

For four individualists:

12 fresh eggs (or 3 eggs per person)
Salt and pepper
5-6 oz. of fresh butter (about a stick and a half, or 3 tbsp. per person)
Chives or fines herbs

Break the eggs into a bowl. Beat thoroughly with a fork and season well with salt and pepper. In a small copper (or heavy bottomed saucepan) melt 4 oz. [half a stick] of the butter. When melted, pour in the eggs and cook over a very low heat, whisking continuously with a small egg whisk.

While the eggs are slightly more moist than you would wish for eating, remove the pan from heat, add the rest of the butter and continue whisking for half a minute, adding at the same time finely chopped chives or fines herbes. Serve on hot buttered toast in individual copper dishes (for appearance only) with pink champagne (Taittinger) and low music.

CULINARY PORNOGRAPHY AND A DELICIOUS MINESTRONE SOUP

Watching the Food Network as I often do, I recently realized that for foodies like myself much of their programming amounts to culinary pornography. Loving close-ups of glistening and juicy fresh-from-the-oven roasts and such, recipes rendered into soft-voiced sweet-nothings, the chef’s deft hands gingerly kneading and folding and applying spice rubs and oil, the borderline-erotic “money shot” of the cook sampling what they have just prepared with undeniable, closed-eyed pleasure unashamedly smeared across their face… You get the idea.

Giada DeLaurentiis: adorable pumpkin-headed kitchen goddess.

The program that really drove home the one-handed cookery aspect of these shows is EVERYDAY ITALIAN, hosted by the stunning Giada DeLaurentiis, a Guinzo-licious kitchen goddess who is so cute that you forget her head is disproportionately large, giving her the look of an anthropomorphic bobble-head statue; the second I see her on my TV screen I am hooked for the next half-hour. Giada is utterly charming and clearly takes great delight in what she is doing, making her that much hotter. I often watch her and wish I could say to her “Oh, beautiful Giada, won’t you please come to my kitchen wearing nothing but an apron and share your tasty stuff with me?” but unfortunately I don’t speak Italian.

A couple of days ago I caught her show from the beginning and she announced that the day’s recipe would be her homemade Winter Minestrone soup. Now while I am not much of fan of Italian cuisine — it’s a bit too heavy for me — I am a major freak for Minestrone soup, always keeping at least one can of the Progresso brand on hand at all times. I watched the goddess DeLaurentiis and jotted down her recipe as she walked the viewer through it. Let me tell ya, it’s really simple to make, is absolutely delicious and has made me kiss the canned stuff goodbye from now on. Don’t be intimidated by some of the ingredients; your average eight-year-old could make this with supervision, so what’s stopping you?

INGREDIENTS

Olive oil
Panchetta (Italian kinda/sorta bacon)
Onions
Carrots
Celery
Garlic
1 Russett potato
Beef broth
Swiss chard
Rosemary (1 branch)
Canned crushed tomatoes
Canned beans (I recommend lima or butter beans)
Fresh grated Romano cheese (I prefer a Peccorino/Romano blend)
Fresh parsley

This recipe is pretty much a “by instinct” jobbie, so measure quantities of the ingredients for how many people you want to cook for; I recommend making a big pot of this for yourself and having it around to heat and eat whenever you feel like not cooking. Anyway…

Pour olive oil into your soup pot and let it get hot enough for simmering. Dice your onions, celery and carrots and drop them into the pot, simmering until the onions get translucent. Then add as nay cloves of garlic as you like, making sure that the cloves have been burst and can allow their flavor to escape. Add a pinch of salt and simmer while stirring.

Make sure that you have had your pancetta thin sliced, and then dice it up small. Add it to the vegetables and allow the fat on the pancetta to melt; simmer and stir for ten minutes.

Peel and cube one Russett potato and add it to the simmering goodies; simmer for another ten minutes and add a pinch of salt. Take the Swiss chard and fine chop it, adding it and one branch of fresh rosemary to the simmer. Stir and add a couple of cans of crushed tomatoes along with a pinch of salt and some fresh ground pepper. Simmer for ten minutes, covered.

Once you have figured out what kind of canned beans you like — I highly recommend butter beans — take three-quarters of what you intend to use and either puree or crush them until they have a paste-like squashedness. Drop the pasty beans into the simmer, along with enough beef broth to make the soup as thick or thin as you prefer; remember that the crushed/pureed beans act as a thickener so keep that in mind when determining consistency. Add as much fresh ground Romano cheese (or Peccorino Romano) and stir well. Simmer for fifteen more minutes and then add some finely chopped fresh parsley and the remaining quarter of the uncrushed beans; adding whole beans at the end is strictly a presentation thing, so if you don’t care how it looks you can ignore this bit. But why waste perfectly good beans? Throw the fuckers in there!

And that’s that. I suggest serving it the day after you cook it so it can find its flavor overnight. Damned tasty soup! Now come to me, Giada, you saucy little pomidora...

ITALIAN WEDDING SOUP

There's a lunch place around the corner from where I worked at the design 'ho house that serves many very good sandwiches and salads and assorted hot dishes, but of all their wares I favor the generally exceptional soups, the best of which is an Italian Wedding soup so tasty that I determined to learn to make the stuff at home. I hit the Internet and checked out about twenty recipes from which I picked and chose the bits and pieces that held the most appeal to me, and about a month and a half ago I made my first pot of the stuff and it turned out quite well. It may look intimidating, but trust me when I tell you it's surprisingly easy to craft in two steps, namely making the meatballs first and then the soup.

PART 1: MEATBALLS

INGREDIENTS

Ground beef (1 pound)
Ground pork (1 pound)
Salt & pepper
1 tablespoon of onion powder
Ground Peccorino Romano cheese (I recommend a fistful)
1 tablespoon of dried basil
2 eggs
Bread crumbs
Cream

Thoroughly mix the pork and beef together in a large mixing bowl, along with the eggs, salt and pepper (a liberal pinch of each), onion powder, Peccorino Romano, dried basil and bread crumbs. At this point I recommend adding as much cream as needed to make the mixture somewhat loose but firm enough to mold meatballs out of; the meatballs should be about the size of an average walnut, and when rolling them keep a pan of water nearby to keep your hands moist so the meat mixture won't stick to you, thus allowing you to come up with aesthetically pleasing spherical shapes. Once finished rolling the meatballs, set them aside on a plate in the fridge and get cracking on the soup.

PART 2: SOUP

INGREDIENTS

128 ounces of chicken stock
1 large onion
Garlic cloves (how many is up to you, but I go with a handful)
3 medium/large carrots
Fresh thyme
2 eggs
3 bay leaves
1 pound of finely chopped spinach
2/3 box of orzo pasta

Pour the chicken stock into a large stew pot and feel free to adjust the liquid quantity as necessary, using more stock or water if you prefer. Chop up the onion into small pieces and chop the carrots into the standard coin shapes. Take peeled garlic cloves — however many you like — and smash them with the flat side of a chef's knife or cleaver. Strip the leaves off the fresh thyme and drop directly into the pot. Finely chop the spinach, and when that's done bring the stock to a boil. Once the stock is boiling, rake the vegetables and bay leaves straight into the pot, then lower the temperature and allow to simmer until the onions more or less melt (I prefer them that way, but feel free to allow the onions to be more firm if you like). While that's going on, whip the two eggs in a small bowl and set it aside. Take the meatballs out of the fridge and drop individually into the soup. Stir carefully once, making sure that the meatballs do not stick to each other. Cover the soup and let simmer for fifteen minutes, by which time the meatballs will be thoroughly cooked and firm. Remove from heat and smoothly stir in the whipped eggs. Let sit for ten minutes and serve.

GOD'S OWN FAVORITE SLOW-COOKED POT ROAST

Here's a delicious favorite that is both easy to make and jack-off-on-your-grandma delicious. I learned the basics of this from my mother back in the early-1980's and have tweaked it a little since, but trust me when I say that it's fantastic.

You'll need a crock pot and the ingredients are few:

• 1 chuck roast
• beef broth
• 1 tube of anchovy paste
• 1 box of Lipton's powdered onion soup mix
• 1 can of those fried onions that are used to top casseroles

Armed with all of that stuff, it's time to begin!

Pour about two inches of beef broth into the crock pot, basically enough to cover 1/3 of the roast.

The above shot gives you a good idea of the physical size of the roast required for this endeavor.

Unwrap the roast and place it in the broth.

Poke open the tube of anchovy paste and slather the doody-looking stuff all over as much of the roast as remains above the level of the liquid. Use the whole tube.

Smooth the anchovy paste all over the roast in the same way as you would frost a cake.

Then apply the powdered onion soup mix, taking care to pat as much of onto the anchovy paste to make it stick above the liquid level. The average box of the stuff comes with two packets of soup mix and I use them both, but one will do for most tastes.

With that done, cover the roast with as much of the fried onions as you like. I try to liberally coat the whole bloody thing, making it look like one of Ben Grimm's butt-cheeks, and not necessarily caring if some of it ends up in the broth.

Cover the crock pot and set it to "LOW" heat. That's it; just set it and forget it for between nine to fourteen hours, depending on super-tender you like it. I recommend the longest slow-cook as possible, for reasons to be explained shortly.

NOTE: While the "set it and forget it" rule is paramount, the roast must be basted in its own juices after about the second hour. The fried onions will have begun to get mushy, but that's what we want here. I recommend basting every hour and a half after the first two hours of undisturbed cooking.

By the time the roast is finished (above), the fried onions will have pretty much "sweated" and melted into the very fabric of the meat, along with the anchovy paste and the ambient gravy.

After it's done, transplant the roast to a smaller container, one that will fit in your fridge and not take up too much space.

Pour the drippings/gravy over the roast and allow to cool to room temperature. Refrigerate the roast overnight, allowing it to congeal into a solid mass.

The next day, take the roast out of the pot and place it on a carving board. I recommend slicing it to manageably thin pieces, and that is most easily accomplished with a chef's knife, meaning one with a straight edge, not serrated. The straight edge allows to to slice cleanly and not leave tattered edges on your slices. It's also important to slice against the "grain" of the meat, because of you slice with the grain you'll get something stringy (though tender) that looks like what's seen above, and such stringy stuff can get caught in hard-to-reach places in the eater's teeth.

Slicing against the grain yields results that look like what you see above. It looks great in presentation, reheats more efficiently, and is simply a more pleasant culinary experience all around.

When you're done with the slicing, transfer the meat to a handy container of your choice and make sure to pour the gravy over it before putting it away.

When reheated, the meat will be tender like you will not believe, and juicy/gravy-laden to match. It's awesome on sandwiches and perfect on a plate with potatoes and vegetables. Enjoy!