Here is that recipe.
First you will need a giant-ass pot. You are going to put this pot on the stove. Once it is safely on the stove, and you have made sure there are no cats inside, you will need to go out to the back porch and grab two cans of Budweiser out of the cooler melt which your friends left behind from that baby shower last week. They will also have been rained on and might be radioactive. At the very least you live in Oakland, so you should wash them off.
Pour the two Budweiser beers into the cooking pot. Then go and grab a third beer. But this time you are too lazy to wash it off. Just pour it in. Most of the beer really does not touch the outside of the can anyway when it is on its way out and the radioactivity just might add a tangy flavor.
You are then going to add some water to the pot until it is sort-of half full.
Now you are ready to start.
Turn the heat on the beerwater mixture to high. Before it begins to heat up it's okay to throw in some of the produce already. You know you are going to boil the hell out of anything that goes in there so it really just doesn't matter. Then you think that maybe it might matter, but for just a moment before you realize you don't care. Throw in an entire stick of butter. Go ahead. Throw it in. Watch it float. You were supposed to sauté all your vegetables in butter, but you knew that you were not going to. This way, at least your food items will be coated in butter as they were meant to be.
Toss in a half bag of peeled and sliced carrots, plus two onions, and an entire bulb of crushed garlic. Slice up some small potatoes and throw them in the pot. Also, take that giant ass slab of corned beef you bought from Costco and wonder at the amazing amount of fat that was on the side that was hidden from view by the clever Irish-ish packaging once you have managed to remove it. Decide to slice most of the fat off, since there really is a disgusting shitload of it. Throw all that fat away in the compost bin and put that slab of pickled beef into the pot.
Now that you have gotten rid of all that fat and made your mixture leaner, take out the package of Apple Smoked Neman Ranch pork bacon which you also bought at Costco. Slice up the whole damn thing into one inch strips of fat and throw it the pot with the beef.*
The water should be starting to boil now. At this time you should decide to add that weird little thing of pickling spices that came with the meat plus some more stuff which did not. Take a healthy handful of pepper corns and throw it on in there. Take half a handful of mustard seeds and do the same. The recipe said you should add parsley but you don't have any. You decide that a mixture of celery seeds, some basil, and five tiny bell peppers should be roughly the same thing. You also toss in some oregano sprigs because they are there in the fridge and they look kind of like parsley and they might go off soon.
Begin to worry for a little bit that basil plus oregano might mean the food will come out tasting Italian. To counter the Italian anxiety, throw in a half a cup of Jameson Whiskey plus an entire head of cabbage and a can of Guinness which has been partly consumed by you and your husband.
Marvel that there is a little plastic ball that rattles in the empty Guinness can. What does it do? Does it prevent Guinness cans from being recyclable? You could cut out the plastic ball from the can and it would be recyclable but that would be a lot of work. Plus, it might wreck your kitchen knives. Not to mention the potential injury a sliced aluminum can is to the hands of those brave folks who scavenge the recyclables from your trash, making it possible for you to drink more since, when they are done, you can fit more bottles into your recycling bins.
So your Irish-ish Thingy has cooked on medium low heat for perhaps an hour or possibly two hours while you ponder this.
You realize that it would taste better with chilies because everything tastes better with chilies but you didn't add any and now you are fucked. You Facebook about the option of adding chilies hoping someone will tell you chilies are a terrible idea. However, everyone likes the idea of chilies and says you should add them not knowing it is too late and there are actually none in the house and you are not going to go get any.
To compensate for the lack of chilies, you try to fake it by adding two tablespoons of the Serrano chili simple syrup you made last week and a tablespoon of that stuff that tastes like sriracha sauce but comes in a jar with a rooster on it. Also, you put in some Braggs. That lady on the bottle has really bitchin' hair.
Later you decide the mustard flavor is not that pronounced. You add some whole grain mustard from the squeezy bottle your husband bought for his sandwiches.
Also, in the fridge, is a large jar of sauerkraut. You decide that since there is already a lot of cabbage in there, and that mustard goes on hotdogs, it really just makes sense to add half the jar. Then you add some more mustard and another can of Budweiser.
You cook this for another hour and then cool it and put it away for the night.
In the morning (which is noon) you take the thing out and scrape all the hardened fat off the top. Admittedly most of it is prolly from that stick of butter from yesterday. You take the floaty bits of fatty bacon and put those in the compost, too. Then you realize that there are hella ants crawling all over the compost bins because it has been raining and the ants, who also want to get away from the liquid nuclear fallout, have taken their colony inside. Wonder briefly if ants can be radioactive. Take the entire compost bin and put it out in the rain being careful not to scream.
Heat the pot again. Throw in more potatoes, more carrots, and one and a half more cabbages since all the previous veggies have now become sauce. When the meat starts to fall apart in large clumps, add another can of beer.
You've already started drinking because this is the only day of the year you have an excuse to drink hard alcohol in the morning (which is noon.) Throw some of that whiskey in the pot, too. Boil the mixture down so that the liquid in the pot is reduced and simmer until your friends show up to the house. Play the Wolfe Tones until your friends threaten to stab themselves in the eye with a fork and serve.
*My husband insists I clarify that when I say "whole package" I actually mean one of the packages of the three you are forced to buy as a unit from Costco in order to obtain the savings from them. I *did* try to tell him that no one was actually meant to cook from this recipe.
