Hey guys! So, I know most of you are probably elbow deep in a turkey right about now and could not care less about my classed-up trash food effort. But after the Thanksgiving dust has settled and you’re staring down the barrel of the holiday season, you’re going to want this Beemster Beefaroni recipe. Scratch that. You’re going to need it.
In my corner of the world, we’re already beginning to deck the halls. But our neighbors to the south are still stuck on a holiday we bid adieu to a month and a half ago. Yes, American Thanksgiving is coming this Thursday and, man, it’s been a thorn in my side for my entire life. This isn’t even remotely America’s fault. My dislike for their late-in-the-game holiday has everything to do with my impatience. You see, when I was a kid, my mother would insist that we not launch into Christmas-mode until after American Thanksgiving. Well, as a Christmas-loving kid, I was not at all impressed with the tardy Turkey day and I grew to hate it. For whatever reason, this unfair disdain for the holiday lingers but this Chocolate Marsala Pecan Pie is helping me change that.
Today’s Crispy Pomegranate Beef Stir Fry is my idea of comfort food. When I was growing up, my mom made a lot of stir-fries. My entire family had an affinity for Asian flavors, so a good stir fry with a ton of ginger kept everyone happy. Full disclosure: my mom is a white lady from Prince Edward Island, so I can’t call the Asian food that graced our table “authentic”. But my mom definitely tried her best to do it right. She researched the crap out the cuisines she referenced, which was a difficult feat pre-Google. She also scoured Halifax for difficult to find ingredients. While my peers’ parents were weaning their households off of Hamburger Helper, my mom was attempting to recreate Thai green curry in her kitchen.
Ah! The pierogi. The perfect bite-sized, comfort food parcel. But as much as I love them today, these tender clouds of carb perfection were never part of my childhood. No, instead they played a vital role throughout my deeply embarrassing and economically fraught 20s. The frozen No Name pierogi was there when I simultaneously strapped for cash and time in university. The fresh pierogi was there when, in the midst of a rough patch to end all rough patches, my friend Paul invited me over to make the delectable dumplings with his Polish mama. And today’s Short Rib Pierogies were there when winter unexpectedly decided to call.