I feel like johnny-come-lately. This post was meant to go up on Dec. 19th, 2009—the eve of the big nor’easter that was supposed to punish New England, dumping more snow on us than we’ve seen in a long time. The One and I are snow freaks. We love being stranded in the middle of a blizzard, with snow falling for hours while we spend time in the kitchen cooking. The windows all steamed up. The cats curled up the on the rug. But before you sigh and think it’s all “Christmas in Connecticut,” more often than not, one of us is tripping over Raja, our Himalayan, or dancing around Chloe, our Persian, while juggling scalding casserole dishes or Dutch ovens. Not exactly Currier and Ives.
A shrink would have a field day with me, I’m sure, because there’s no time I feel safer than when tucked away in the house during a blizzard. Womb envy? A desire to regress? A need to temporarily severe a social umbilical cord? Who knows, but when snow starts to fall, I start to beam.
And it was hard not to get excited with weather forecasts becoming fantastically more ominous as the hours progressed. Snowfall predictions mounted from several inches to a whopping foot and a half. And while normal people were canceling plans, filling their cars with gas, and buying shovels, we were making menus. Lots and lots of menus. By noon the day of the avalanche, we had four days worth of meals drawn up, shopped for, and prepped. To usher in what Channel 8 called “the snowstorm of the decade,” we celebrated by making what I dubbed Blizzard Beef—and filmed it so I could try out my new Kodak Zi8. As the beef braised, we kept running from the increasingly hysterical weatherman on TV to the front door to peer out at the post light through cupped hands. But there was nothing. As we ate, we glanced out the French doors. Nothing. Bedtime, four hours later. Nothing. The next morning at 8 a.m., which was supposed to be the pulsing, punishing, twisted heart of the storm, all there was was a meager four inches of white stuff. Even the guy who plows our driveway asked if he should even bother.
Deflated, we did what any sane person would do to combat such disappointment: we cooked. More.
I was going to give up on ever posting this, because what good is Blizzard Beef without a blizzard? But maybe somewhere, someday, someone will get caught in a blizzard with only beef chuck steaks, Worcestershire sauce, and water and will need to do some kind of MacGyver cooking. If so, here’s your dish. It’s so simple, there’s not even a recipe. We accompanied it with over-the-top mashed potatoes and roasted Brussels sprouts.
P.S. It’s 6:23 p.m. and I just heard the weather forecast: They say that a big storm is headed our way next weekend. All I can say is, I’ve got my chuck, so let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
LC
on 
LC to your 
Great video David – When does your show officially begin taping???
Well, you know, there’s the production company that needs to be put into place, my $6 million per year contract, the five-book deal, my spokesman deals, the IPO, etc. It’ll take my bevy of attorneys months to put it all together. After that, the show officially begins.
Excellent news. I’ll get my people working with your people to setup my first guest appearance.
We got your snow up here in Canada, David, almost 4 feet in one night. Dog got stuck on the front lawn. Eighty-five-pound dog, and we had to dig her out, lol.
Now THAT’S what I’m talking about! You should have had some Blizzard Beef on hand.
Let it snow indeed. What a great article David, but for those of us who don’t get the whopping foot and a half of snow, that Blizzard Beef still sounds like a winner to me. So in my instance, let it rain, let it rain, let it rain.
Think of it this way: Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor dark of night shall stay you from the swift completion of your Blizzard Beef.
David – I feel the same way about inclement weather! Of course, I rarely get to enjoy that wonderful “cut off from the world” feeling here in Austin, Texas! I hope to try the Blizzard Beef nevertheless!
And you should, Mary. We love it!
I cannot believe how simple this is to make.
It’s snowing outside. The beef is in the pot. There’s wine in the rack; Ommegang ale in the fridge; freshs Brussel sprouts.
The big question: noodles or mashed potatoes? Decisions, decisions!
Decisions, indeed! Although I am with you on there being no indecision whatsoever with regard to the ale that you keep in the fridge, Susan. I swoon to Ommegang.