chip off the ol' block

Lest you folks mistakenly think I'm on the diet train this new year (sacrificing frosting, and all...), I've prepared evidence proving otherwise.

So what have I prepared? In a word, gravy. In three more descriptive and delicious words, chipped beef gravy.

It's a simple concept--make a roux, add your oh-so-salty beef, spices, and seasonings--but the combination atop a warm and fluffy biscuit is one of my favorite things to eat. I know a lot of people cringe when they think about gravy, but it's not really all that bad. Sure, there's some butter involved, but let's be honest--butter is in everything. Everything worth eating, at least...

Definitely worth eating.

In college, my friends and I became addicted to chipped beef gravy. We ate ridiculous amounts of the stuff and even planned our schedules around the rare days that it was served in the cafeteria. Looking back, it's probably a good thing that chipped-beef-gravy days were so infrequent--I'm not kidding when I say we ate ridiculous amounts. Bowls full. So I guess in that sense, gravy can be a bad thing.

Moderation, my friends. Moderation.

Champion Chipped Beef Gravy
(makes 3 impressively-sized portions)

2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
2 cups milk
4 ounces dried beef lunch meat, sliced into 1/2-inch pieces
Salt and pepper
the tiniest pinch of nutmeg
dash Worcestershire sauce or, even better, hot sauce (if you're feeling frisky)

Add the butter to a large saucepan set over medium heat. When melted, sprinkle in the flour. Whisk constantly until there are no lumps and the roux has slightly darkened.
Slowly pour in the milk, whisking constantly. Keep whisking until there are no lumps. Cook until the sauce thickens, just a couple minutes.
Add the nutmeg, a dash of some sort of flavorful sauce, and a crack of fresh black pepper. Stir well, and then add the dried beef. Cook for a couple minutes to warm the beef. Season the mixture with salt to taste, then dump onto biscuits or toast (or a shingle...) and devour.