The time I ate all of the corned beef

This is a story from the past. It’s kind of an inside (not so much anymore!) joke between Craig and I.  “Remember the time you ate all the corned beef?”

The first place that Craig I lived together was in a house with 3 roommates, plus one of the roommate’s girlfriends.  Living conditions were cramped, and everyone was lazy.  After nearly a year of spending most of our time in our room, the stars aligned and everyone but us was gone for the weekend.  We were thrilled, and decided to celebrate by cleaning up the kitchen, making dinner, having some drinks, and watching a movie.  Did I mention we were both broke and in college?  That’s a fancy night in.  So we cleared most of the filth out of the kitchen that 4 guys shared (gross) and went to the grocery store around 5:30 to figure out what we were going to eat for dinner.  We picked corned beef and cabbage.  I’m not sure if you have ever tried making corned beef and cabbage.  It’s very simple, but time consuming.  The arbitrary number we came up with was 3 hours boiling.  So we got the cabbage, new potatoes, and a big hunk of corned beef brisket.  Then we hit the liquor store and bought a bottle of Belvedere Vodka, because we were too good for Grey Goose.  We had all of the stuff we needed for a traditional Irish feast of corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, and cosmopolitans.   So the night began

cosmo

When we returned to the house, we got some water boiling on the stove, got the beef in, quartered the cabbage, and got everything going.  Then Craig started mixing up cocktails.  And we each had a few.  And we didn’t have snacks.  We were waiting for the corned beef.  So we started our movie.  And had a couple more drinks.  Around this point, Craig decides to just go to sleep.  So I finish his drink and make myself another.  The last thing I remember is taking the beef out of the water to cool before nagging Craig to go upstairs to bed with me.

corned beef

The next thing I remember is waking up that morning with a horrific headache (if I only knew what hangovers had in store for me as I aged) and an overall feeling of having survived torture.  I knew that I needed to eat something nice and fatty and that would help me feel better.  I knew just what that was going to be… the corned beef from last night!  I sent Craig downstairs to grab me some while I stayed in bed.  He returned moments later empty handed.
“Where’s the corned beef?”
“On the counter, I’d imagine.”
“It’s not there.”
“Did you check the fridge?”
“Not there either”
“Weird!”
I got up to look for it myself.  Imagine my surprise to find greasy corned beef boiling water splashed all over the stove, a pot of more of it, with the spices from the enclosed packet floating in the water, and a cutting board, strewn with flacid cabbage and dried out potatoes.  Atop the pile of destroyed vegetables was a knife.  A knife with dried scraps of corned beef, and a slick of fat coating it.  Maybe I buried the corned beef somewhere deep in the fridge in my drunken stupor.  Nope.  Not there either. Was it in the trash?  Why would I have thrown it out?  No, not in the garbage either. Did my roommate come home and eat it after we went to bed?  Nope, no cars in the driveway.  How about his dog.  Did he bring his dog home?  Empty crate.  Shit.  Where the fuck is the 4lb brisket?
“Maybe you ate it.”
“There’s no way I could have eaten 4lbs of beef.”
“Well then were is it?”
“…”
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
“YOU ATE THE WHOLE BRISKET!!!”
“I can’t believe that happened.”
In fact, I didn’t believe that it happened until a few hours later I threw up a bunch of corned beef.  We’ve had a tenuous relationship ever since.

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