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Growing up, a lot of my social life centered around church. This was partly because I was homeschooled starting in 4th grade, but even before that most of my good friends were those I knew through church. Frequently on Sundays, we would maneuver with our parents to get permission to spend the afternoon at each others’ houses. My friend Shiloh came to my house once in a while, and by some weird pattern, it always seemed to happen that she came over on a day that my mom was making a roast. Shiloh didn’t mind; in fact, she always commented on how much she loved roast. I was not entirely sure what to make of this enthusiasm; to me, roast was merely something to be endured. I didn’t actively dislike it, I ate it and maybe even took seconds if I was extra hungry. I just thought it was extremely boring. (Besides, it always included cooked carrots, which I did actively dislike.)

Now, none of this is any reference to my mother’s cooking. The proof of this is that as the years have passed, I have realized that I was deluded as a child and that roast (of any kind) is an amazing and delicious food.

As an adult I have come to a full appreciation of roasts. What could be better than a meal that you season, stick in an oven, and then forget about for hours? Especially because when you take it out it’s usually tender and delicious and amazing, and if you throw in your potatoes and carrots and such you don’t need much else.

Last night I tried something interesting. I made this delightful pot roast recipe (I love the Pioneer Woman), and I followed it pretty closely, but I also threw in some sliced sweet potatoes. (Well, actually, just one enormous sweet potato, but it was plenty!).  I have to say, the results were pretty darn delicious. I never thought to take any pictures, but just go look at the ones on the Pioneer Woman site–they’re prettier than mine would be, and pretty accurate! I loved the sweet potatoes and the carrots together. Since childhood, I have also overcome my distaste for cooked carrots, and these ones were amazing. I’m not sure if it’s because they were locally grown or if it’s just because they sat in all that deliciousness cooking all afternoon…but they were good.

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