- Check refrigerator for ingredients that need something done to them.
- Glare at remaining beer.
- Search internet for various permutations of “[meat] beer”
- Discover that Ludacris recorded an album called “Chicken and Beer”.
- Discover that there is a very popular recipe for roast whole chicken that involves sticking a can of beer up the chicken’s thoracic cavity.
- Focus!
- Find recipe for Pork Beer Stew.
- Throw 1 lb frozen pork into microwave to thaw.
- Begin chopping one medium onion (Bambi’s mom *sob*) and 2 apples, and peeling and chopping 3 parsnips and 2 sweet potatoes.
- Realize you’re not going to be done with the vegetables until well after the pork is done microwaving.
- Have samonella paranoia.
- Finish chopping vegetables, and crush and mince 2 cloves garlic.
- Put apple, parsnips, and sweet potatoesaside in 4 cup measuring cup.
- No, too small.
- Get out big bowl and put vegetables in that instead.
- Chop partially thawed pork into 1 inch cube porksicles.
- Warm up 1 tablespoon of butter in the big pot over medium-high heat.
- When butter has turned into bubbly liquid, toss in onion, garlic, and porksicles.
- Stir and cook until porksicles are brownish white and onion is transparent.
- Open bottle of beer with can opener in least impressive fashion possible, and pour onto pork and onion.
- Add 3 cups vegetable broth, or 3 cups water and 3 tablespoons vegetable stock.
- Taste small dab of vegetable stock.
- Receive entire day’s RDA of salt.
- Add 1 tablespoon packed brown sugar, whatever that means.
- Add 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard. Feel phantom top hat and monocle.
- Add 1.5 teaspoons of dried thyme. Flagrantly fragrant!
- Add chopped apples, parsnips, and sweet potatoes, being careful not to splash too much.
- What did I just say?
- Clean counter with rag.
- Stir in 1 16 oz can of diced tomatoes.
- Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low.
- Simmer partially covered until smell drives you mad (at least 1 hour).
- Enjoy your stew. Wonder who had the idea to cram a can of beer up a chicken’s butt.
