This morning I am watching the backlog of episodes, starting with the seventh, I guess. That’s one after the show stopped being boring and started having an arc and some actual good dialog (aka, witty banter).

OMG. This show is funny and Jossy and I. Love. It. Super excited for this one now. I was so disappointed for those first five dull episodes, and now I know it was just a ruse to trick Fox into thinking it was just another Friday night dud.

So, yay for me knowing some relevant law!

And I really mean it. Two weeks ago, I got staffed on something that I was told would be blowing up in our faces over the following six weeks. Immediately after that, a long-term matter I’m on also went into overdrive, headed for a filing deadline in, yes, about six weeks. A third project has a looming deadline that is—surprise!—right around the same time as the deadlines in both other matters. A fourth matter has a series of deadlines cluttered over the same time period.

None of this freaked me out. I told all of my supervisors about the unfortunate and concurrent deadlines, set about doing my work, and felt pretty energized. For a while. But then some unfortunate family news was delivered, which shook me up a bit; then one of my supervisors tried to give me constructive feedback which wasn’t actually very constructive at all, and my confidence wavered. Meanwhile the family situation is still unfolding and I very much want to devote a lot of my energy to dealing with it; I also very much want to avoid, at all costs, the confidence-shaking project—and, really, a lot of my other work.

So I’m a bit blue and struggling just to get things done. It’s not the working that’s the problem; it’s doing it for more than 45 minutes at a stretch. Oh, and the getting started. Funny how hard it is to get things done when you can’t actually start them, and then can’t work on them for more than three quarters of an hour. I don’t think I need a break—I’ve been taking breaks, you know, every 45 minutes. Or maybe I do need a break, but in a different sense—we speak of artists and performers waiting for their “big break” and I think I need a break like that. I need something to happen that just completely changes everything, that shifts the mental block and turns me into a drafting machine who can turn the emotional worries off and turn the legal analysis on, and in the next second switch the taps.

The worst part is that I don’t see an end in sight. I mean, I do see something of an end, down the road several weeks from now when all the various work deadlines have passed and things aren’t quite so pressured. But that’s not really an end. It’s just a marker, off in the distance. There’s no way to predict the timing of the family situation, either; it’s just something to be borne until . . . well, until it’s done.

During Lent, many preachers speak of being in the desert—being in the midst of darkness and discomfort—and embracing the lessons to be learned there. And I’ve always thought that was a beautiful concept, and I’ve experienced it a little. But my experiences with the desert have always been of the sit-back-and-wait variety—and those experiences have been challenging for me because I do not easily just sit back and wait, but they’ve also been sort of enjoyable because sitting back and waiting has a sort of nobility about it, a kind of romance. It’s a lot easier to learn something from a challenging experience when you feel noble and romantic going through it.

Now, though, I think I’m in a different desert, one where I can’t sit back and wait, where I have no time to meditate on the lessons to be learned. I have to Do Things, despite my overwhelming desire to Not Do Things. I do not, I think, like this desert very much. There is nothing noble or romantic about it; in fact, I have to completely put aside all of my touchy-feely “let’s hold hands and sing dirges in the desert” instincts and instead just work. I don’t even feel like I’m working through anything, either; I’m just working, making my way through what feels like a neverending pile of stuff that is constantly replenished from the bottom. (Doesn’t this sound like a Greek myth?)

So I’m sitting in the desert trying to Do Things. Wish me luck.

I bought an exercise video.

Namely, the 30-Day Shred.

I thought I was in decent shape, even if a little flabby and a few pounds too heavy.

Um.

I am apparently not in any kind of shape at all. I did about 12 minutes of the 20-minute workout, approximately one and a half circuits, six total minutes of strength training, two total minutes of cardio, and one minute of abs, and I Cannot. Raise. My. Arms.

My legs are OK. For now. I think the pain is yet to come in my lower body. Frankly, the pain is yet to come in my upper body; I don’t think uncontrollable trembling counts as pain, even though it is uncomfortable.

Mr. Angst says I need to do it again tomorrow, so that I get in the habit of it, so that I stick with it. I told him I’ll do it, half-assed if necessary, if I am actually physically CAPABLE of raising my arms.

Ten bucks says I won’t be able to raise my arms.

Their recipe calls for using New Orleans style red beans, because they’re from Louisiana. I, however, am from Texas, so I used refried pinto beans. Their recipe also called for provolone, but I thought cheddar would go better with my beans, so I used cheddar.

This is basically homemade bean dip with better flavor and texture. It’s addictive.

Also, this recipe is enough for two people. For a crowd, double or quadruple it. (In fact, I quartered my best friend’s recipe. This isn’t the kind of recipe that you can really screw up by being off a little bit on the measurements.)

1 cup refried beans from a can
1/2 stick butter
about 2 tablespoons sliced jalapeños from a jar
about 2 teaspoons jalapeño juice from the jar
about 1 tablespoon very finely minced onion
1 glove of garlic, pressed
about 1/2 cup shredded cheddar, or more to taste

There are two ways to do this. The first way is to toss everything in the food processor or blender first, and then heat it to melt the butter and cheese. I think there’s an easier way, but it requires a handheld or stick blender, which I have. Throw everything in a medium saucepan and cook over low heat till everything is melted. Then take your stick blender to it to break up the jalapeños (and onions, though they should be minced fine enough that the blending won’t do a lot). You could probably not blend it at all, but it’s better if every bite has a little bit of pepper instead of some bites having huge chunks of pepper. But it’s really all about preference.

Prairie fire is great served hot, but it’s pretty darn good when it’s cooled off a bit, too. I served this with another handful of shredded cheddar on top of it, and we liked that, too, since we got a little bit of cheese with every bite.

When I’m worried about dried out pork chops, I usually brine them. But my usual brine takes an hour at least, which I did not have time for. So I threw caution to the wind and tried a super-concentrated brine, soaked the chops for only 25 minutes, and then baked them for 22 minutes. A quick pan-sear when they came out finished them off. Yummy.

So, I used a quarter-cup of kosher salt, a quarter-cup of brown sugar (not packed), a half-cup of cider vinegar, and about a quart of water. Stirred till the salt and sugar were completely dissolved, put the chops and the brine in a gallon zip-top bag, and let them sit for 25 minutes. I patted them dry when they came out, sprinkled them with salt, fresh ground black pepper, and a light dusting of garlic powder. I wanted a little bit of moisture on them for the baking, but usually I use worcestershire and that didn’t seem right. So I mixed one part raspberry chipotle salsa and one part soy sauce, spooned it over the chops on both sides, then baked them for 22 minutes at 350.

When they came out, they weren’t quite done, so I seared them in a pan, about 1-1/2 minutes on each side, over high heat. They got a nice caramelized crust in the searing; the acid in the vinegar helped tenderize the chops—which, I’m sure also helped the brine penetrate them—as well as gave them a very nice flavor.

Vinegar in brine is probably not a good idea for a longer brine, since the acid will cure the meat (think ceviche), but for flash-brining? Perfect.

I also took pictures this time.

Here are the short ribs, browning in the pot.

Out with the ribs, and in with the onions.

And some tomato paste…

And then the wine, reducing down.

Now for the mushrooms and rosemary…

And finally, back in with the meat, right before the lid went on and the whole thing went into the oven for two hours.

Delicious!

But I do have food to post about.

I decided to branch out from my usual weeknight cooking this week, and bought some beef short ribs. Why? Well, they’re pretty cheap, but they have lots of nice marbling and generally look like they’d be yummy. So I bought some, looked up some recipes, and gave it a whirl. Verdict: Not Fail. In fact, Mr. Angst said that they were the kind of thing he’d expect to eat in a fancy restaurant—and they were so easy to make!

First, you can either do bone-in or boneless short ribs. If you do bone in, be forewarned that you’ll want to cut the bone off about halfway through cooking lest your braising liquid get unbelievably fatty and greasy. Cooks’ Illustrated says to go boneless and use a little gelatin to give the final sauce the right mouthfeel; I say, cutting the bone off halfway through was not that big a deal, so I’d probably just keep doing that. Either way, you need something—either the bones for part of the cooking, or the gelatin—to give the final sauce that finish. (It’s basically the same stuff, since gelatin is generally made from animal collagen. If that grosses you out, sorry. I think it’s important to know where and what your food comes from.)

So, OK. Procure a bottle of robust wine. I used a relatively inexpensive cabernet (not too inexpensive, though!) and I’d recommend something similar. Don’t use a pinot or a really delicate shiraz; you want something with some body and flavor.

Now, take your short ribs—about 3 lbs. if bone-in, and 2 lbs. if boneless—and brown them really well over medium-high heat, in an ovenproof pan/pot for at least 5 minutes on each side. They need to be really browned up. I used my Le Creuset dutch oven, and I think that’s a good pot to use. Nothing too shallow, and it needs a tight-fitting lid.

Once the ribs are well-browned, remove them to a bowl. Add one onion, cut pole-to-pole and then thinly sliced, to the pot and cook, stirring regularly to keep them from burning. You want them to get very soft and just browned. If they are browning too quickly, you can add a couple tablespoons of water. Once the onions are soft, add a tablespoon of tomato paste and cook, stirring constantly (or it’ll burn) until the paste has started to brown on the sides and bottom of the pot. Add three peeled cloves of garlic and cook till aromatic (about 30 seconds), and then pour in a cup of your red wine. (Drink a glass while you cook—then you’ll know if it’s worth cooking with.) Cook the mix until the wine has reduced by about half. Then add a half-cup-to-a-cup of beef broth, a bay leaf, and whatever herbs you love—I used some dried thyme, but I wish I’d added the fresh rosemary I had instead. Also add some carrots if you want, cut into 2-inch pieces. Next time I make this, I’ll try sauteing some mushrooms in with the onions—think creatively like that. Yummy flavors that have some umami to them will be good in this.

Bring the liquids up to a simmer, add the ribs back to the pot, cover and place in a 300° oven for 2 to 2-1/2 hours. At the one hour mark, turn the ribs. If your ribs are bone-in, cut the bone off at this point. Turn the ribs one more time before the end of cooking. When you can slip a fork easily into the meat, it’s done. When it’s done, pull the meat and carrots out of the pot and place them on a serving platter; tent with foil to keep warm. Strain the cooking liquid through a sieve or strainer into a fat separator (or a bowl if you don’t have one), pressing on the solids. If you used boneless ribs, sprinkle 1/2 a teaspoon of unflavored gelatin over 1/4 cup water and let stand at least 5 minutes, while letting the cooking liquid stand so the fat will rise to the top.

Pour the strained liquid back into the pot and cook until reduced by about half, or until it has a nice, thick texture. Add the gelatin mixture at this point if you’re using it. Season as needed and then pour over the ribs.

I served this over mashed potatoes, and it was SUPERB. Highly recommend. I will make this again and again, and I will experiment with various alterations, because this is pretty much how I like my braised meat—very tender, very flavorful, and with a very rich saucy sauce.