1,000 Words + Osso Buco

A mood board of screenshots to set the stage for an upgraded classic

I’ve resigned myself, eleven nights into the year, to the fact that, in 2024, I may never get another night of uninterrupted sleep. Between Kiddo contracting hand-foot-and-mouth¹ and the Warthog forgetting that he knows how to self-soothe when he awakes in the middle of the night², Mrs. CWD and I have spent the better portion of the year getting up ever two to four hours in order to figure out what’s going on with our offspring³.

Yes, as I wrote last week, parenting is different. And while it’s not more difficult than life without kids on a macro level, it still can be difficult at times. Having another human being dictate any part of your sleep routine can be a challenge. Your brain might get addled, inspirational prose might not come so easily.

But, we adapt and we overcome⁴.

So, in an effort to do just that, this week we’re going to revert to a gimmick I pulled before Thanksgiving. Instead of dropping wisdom, we’ll instead drop a few screenshots of things that have been inspiring me lately. A mix of interior design, excerpts from books, anything that’s caught my eye. We’ll present them without context, since they say a picture is worth 1,000 words, and then immediately make osso buco, which is a dish we should all be making more of.

So let’s have it. If you’d like to know the source of any of these screenshots, please inquire in the comments.

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In a large skillet, thoroughly brown at least two, and hopefully four, large shanks. We used venison in this case, but lamb shanks, beef shanks, or veal, or pork shanks would do just as well. When browned, remove the meat and replace with onions and garlic, then carrots, adding olive oil as neeed. When the vegetables are browned as well, deglaze with red wine, and then pour the whole mess into a slow cooker or Dutch oven on top of the meat.

Pour over top of the meat and vegetables a can of diced tomatoes, a handful of dried mushrooms, and then pour in enough bone stock to cover the shanks by at least half. Let cook for at least four to six hours, stirring infrequently, until your meat is tender and falls off the bone.

Serve over pasta, polenta, mashed potatoes, or with bread.

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So there you go, some screenshots and venison shanks. We’ve made osso buco before, of course, but this recipe is a bit more elevated. Since I used the venison shanks from the deer I killed last fall, I wanted to make sure that I took full advantage of the flavors. That’s why this version calls for browning the meat itself (which I normally don’t do), cooking the vegetables in the same pan as the meat to add some extra flavor, deglazing the pan, adding mushrooms — you get the idea. While you don’t have to do all those things to make a delicious meal (and trust me, it will still be delicious), doing so is just another way to honor the ingredients, honor the animal — to eat radically.

I’ll leave you there to your weekends. Middle of January⁵. The time that tests your resolve. The frenetic energy of the holiday season, which carries over into the New Year, is starting to fade. You might find yourself feeling tired⁶, feeling worn down. That’s okay. Take a break if you need it — but then get right back out there and face the winter winds like those bison I showed you earlier.

It’ll all be worth it come spring.

1. Since recovered.

2. The Warthog has never been a terrific sleeper. Which is interesting, because Kiddo, even from the start, has always been fantastic (so long as she’s not sick). One of the ways in that having a second child is different (not difficult) is that, having one already, you have expectations set in your mind. Because Kiddo slept so well, I had, initially, just assumed that the Warthog would as well. I’m more acutely aware of his groaning, grunting, crying, snorting, wheezing, and generally being a loud and somewhat sporadic sleeper, because in my mind, there’s a baseline of Kiddo sleeping serenely.

I went a little deeper on this concept when I wrote about The Creative Act of Parenting earlier this year.

3. And even when the kiddos sleep soundly, as they did last night, Doggie CWD might decide, at 3am, that she needs to get up and roll around a little before crawling back under the covers

4. And clearly whoever designed kids to be adorable knew what they were doing. It’s hard to be mad that you have to get up in the middle of the night to soothe your three-year — after she’s awakened by a howling winter storm — when she asks you “why the teapot outside is blowing so loud?”

Or, when you, the next morning, ask her how she slept, and she says “like an angel.”

Or, when the Warthog, despite his prior agenda of sleeping until we wake him, decides to start waking up around 6:00am, right in the meaty spot of your workout — but when you go in to grab him, he’s standing at the end of his crib smiling and laughing at the site of you.

How can you get frustrated by stuff like that?

5. Almost

6. Because your kids aren’t sleeping, or waking up in the middle of the night wanting cookies.