The Sword in the Stew

As Mrs. Ottawacker is approaching what can only kindly be called a Milestone Birthday, we have entered a Kim Jong-un style period of celebration. The particular Supreme Leader of our house has somewhat less demanding tastes, fortunately, and so we have not had to source 200-year-old bottles of Armagnac, fatted pheasants or saffron caviar; rather, she wanted Irish Stew.

As such, the steak was removed from the freezer (a little later than recommended), and the stout sourced from the downstairs fridge. Fortunately, the Supreme Leader's not-so-trusted lieutenant had not drunk them all.

Into the mix went red wine, garlic, ground rosemary, parsley, a Bay leaf (for all the frigging good it ever does - I mean, why, why, why do I keep on buying them? I might as well shove a piece of cardboard in there), Worcestershire sauce, a dash of Tabasco, salt and pepper - and it will marinate gently for some 24-36 hours, or until I can be arsed cooking it. 

Or, of course, until the Supreme Leader commands its preparation.