St. Patrick’s Day

Michaela enjoyed having a corned beef sandwich on St. Patrick’s day. She was pretty specific on what she wanted on her sandwich. Absolutely no sauerkraut. She did not like cabbage. The sandwich needed to have a tower of corned beef. Rye bread was a must. She liked regular yellow mustard instead of a spicy or Dijon. She preferred provolone cheese, but Swiss was a good backup.

I don’t like corned beef. My first year with her I looked to see how hard it would be to cook corned beef since I knew she loved it. The brine alone made me gag, but I just put it in the crockpot and really didn’t have to do much to it which was perfect. Especially for something I won’t taste test. The smell as it cooked wasn’t a yummy pleasant smell to me. I would ask how she could eat something that smelled so bad. I got that look. You know that look she got.

Despite my dislike of it, every year I tried to make one for St Patrick’s day. She would say she knew I loved her because I would make it for her when I didn’t like. She took it as an act of unconditional love for me to handle the slimy raw meat and put up with the smell while it cooked. I would have made that for her everyday if it made her happy. I loved cooking for her.