I've been tortured with the smell of the slow cooker for the past 24 hours. Mom put a pot roast in the crockpot around 2 p.m. yesterday with some Vidalia onions, carrots, celery and beer . . . yes, beer.
Here is the recipe (and remember, Mom doesn't measure):
Layer bottom of slow cooker with chopped Vidalia onions. Put in pot roast, fatty side down, that has been rubbed with dried or fresh dill and pepper seasoning. Add chopped celery and carrots. Pour entire carton of vegetable broth (Mom uses organic with no MSG). Add packet of onion soup mix. Pour in almost entire bottle of beer. Cover and cook on low for at least 24 hours.
And that's just what she did. It was already smelling like home-cooking after just a couple of hours yesterday. By the time Mom and Shuga got home this evening, the entire house smelled like somebody had been slaving away at the stove for us all day. And me and my brother and sister mutts were salivating at the kitchen counter.
And now, for the gravy on top:
Mom ladeled out some of the juice into a saucepan, adding a scoop of flour and cranking the heat until it came to a boil, all the while whisking away. She added a couple of spoonfuls of sour cream, as well as a palmful of dill, and up from the sauce pan bubbled a creamy gravy goodness that went along well with the traditional (deli) mashed potatoes and peas.
We would have taken a picture, but the ultra-tender meat meal was consumed before the flash.