Grandma's Pot Roast

Grandma's pot roast was a Sunday dinner staple when I was growing up. We would venture the 75 miles from our home to hers every Sunday during the summer to spend the day playing cards, throwing poker chips, and building sand castles. Sunday dinner did not vary much, it was either roast chicken with pilaf, some kind of Armenian specialty, or pot roast. I remember loving the roast chicken, but I remember LOVING the pot roast. She always cooked hers with carrots, potatoes and onions. My brother would eat only the potatoes, my grandmother would always say, "I just LOVEEE cooked carrots, I don't know why - Gregory - why won't you try a carrot?", and the roasted onions were always my favorite. I would eat two or three whole roasted onions at the age of 7, what 7 year old does that!!

Last week, I ventured down to the Cape to visit grandma, and while it wasn't Sunday (Friday actually), she made a pot roast, and there it was laid out just like I remember. We sat down and started serving ourselves, she pierces a carrot with her fork, takes a bit and mutters the exact same phrase I would hear once a month, "I just LOVEEE cooked carrots, I don't know why!" Whoa nelle, deja vu! I promptly grabbed two roasted onions and tasted them before anything else. Heaven, just like I remember - and childhood memories that I had not thought about in years came flooding back, just from one bit of a roasted onion. I remembered the Cape cottage house with its lack of heat or AC, the cheap wood paneling, poop brown colored carpet, and leather furniture that squeaked so loud when you sat in it you could wake up someone in the bedrooms above. But alas, those were the days (and I have just successfully made myself sound 92 years old).

Grandma Sally cooks hers at 250 degrees for 4 hours. You could use other vegetables like turnips, sweet potatoes, parsnips, butternut squash or even some dried beans or lentils. She puts some stock in the bottom of the pot so that there is some liquid to keep things moist and she always covers the entire thing tightly. Then put it in the oven and forget about it. 1.5 hours in, you will start to smell it throughout the whole house and this begins the torture of waiting for that fork tender (yes, don't even bother putting knives on the table) meat with roasted vegetables. That is the extent of the 'recipe' I could get from her.