Butt.

I don’t often get to say that I’m ahead of the game, so cooking with my Crock Pot is always a nice boost to the self esteem. I just love being able to get all that pesky meal prep out of the way early in the day while I’m still all hopped up on the French Roast and not totally consumed with beating my children trying to survive the Witching Hour.

So tonight we’ll be eating barbecue pork sandwiches made from my children’s favorite cut of meat, The Boston Butt. This just tickles their funny bones like nothing else in my kitchen, with the possible exception of wieners and porcupine balls.

My three year old, Bucket Head, is especially fond of this meal. But this is a child who frequently just stops for no reason, points to his pooper, and says “Butt.”

"Butt."

Personally, I love this meal because it requires just a handful of ingredients, and I can toss it in the Crock Pot and forget about it for the whole live long day.

I’m not very good at taking pictures while I cook, so I can’t show you step by step how I did most of this, but here’s what it looked like right before I put the lid on it and walked away:

"Butt."

To make this yourself, all you need is a big ol’ Boston Butt pork roast. I like the kind with the bone in, but I’m sure you knew that already. Oh yes I did.

You will also need a few onions, some fresh thyme, and a can of Coke.

This recipe is so easy, I could probably do it blindfolded with my toes while texting The Star Spangled Banner, Christina Aguilera style. All you do is liberally season your big ol’ butt with salt and pepper, then brown it on all sides in an oily skillet, and toss it in your Crock Pot. Chop a few onions into big wedges and throw those in too. Then add a few whole sprigs of thyme and pour an entire can of Coke over the whole thing. Put a lid on that sucker and go about your bidness. Cook that bad boy all day on low. Or if you get a late start like I did today, give it a couple hours on high and then turn it to low for the rest of the day.

When it’s almost time for dinner, take that gorgeous tender butt out and let it rest for a spell while you whip up some cole slaw and open a can of baked beans. Once it is cool enough to touch, have your hunk-a-hunk-a-burning-love chop it up for you. Or do it yourself… I just couldn’t chop and take pictures at the same time, der.

"Butt."

Just so we’re clear, those hairy knuckles are not mine. They belong to The Gatekeeper. Now where was I? Oh yes…

Now mix in some barbecue sauce and a teaspoon or two of apple cider vinegar if you like it North Carolina style like we do. If my kids weren’t so wimpy I’d add some heat too at this point. No biggie though, I can just put it on my own sandwich at the table.

"Butt."

Now gather up the fam, say a blessing, and dig in! Butt jokes are optional, of course, but at my house this meal always spurs numerous compliments like: “Oh Mom! Your butt is so tender and juicy!” And “I yike your butt, Mommy.” And “Mom, your butt rocks.”  So yeah… no wonder I love cooking this meal.

Happy trails,

-Iris

© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris.

About The Bearded Iris

Leslie Marinelli is a writer, humorist, blogger, life hacker, and invisible vessel for grandchildren and PTA donations.
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2 Responses to Butt.

  1. Chastity says:

    Ahh…the sweet innocence of youth and fun with food names & the special inside jokes relating to mealtime every family eventually appreciates. Innocent pet names do change when well, “It is time to change” a.k.a. pre-pubescence particuarly when little boys become just a little less little-yet still a galaxy away from man/adulthood. See if this rings anything resembling a bell…Uhhh,uhhh…uhhh, “He said special sauce”…Are cumquats in the meal plan? How bout rocky road??? Hershey is a versitile and approachable “Innapropriate” prefix for this age group and gauranteed to produce milk skirting from ones nose…Huhhhh, Huhhh,, “He said milk and then he said sqirting” Gotta love em…most of them do outgrow it eventually.

  2. Pingback: Pork | guitar picks & apron strings

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