Aging

Hypertension. I have high blood pressure. It was diagnosed last week when I went to see my doc about a sore shoulder. I should know better than to go in there - they always find something else wrong with you that you didn't know you had, like hypertension.

I shouldn't be surprised - absolutely everyone in my family has it, too - but I had managed to escape the pill brigade until now. I felt blessed by being free of pills and doctor visits and emails with the medical community, except for my semiannual eye exams and tooth cleanings. This feels like the beginning of true aging.

I've been thankfully free of the arthritis, insomnia and irregularity that some of my friends complain about and I still walk with Cora at least a couple of miles per day. When the young man at the grocery store asks if I need help out, I am always able to say with a smile, "No, thanks! I'm stronger than I look."

Oh, my hair has been gray and my face wrinkled and my figure round for quite some time - it's not as if there were no signs of advancing years around here. I wear glasses and I really relish my afternoon nap. Somewhere along the line, however, I learned to equate pill taking with truly getting older.

What has this to do with beef stew? Nothing much, except that on a recent afternoon when I arose from my nap feeling a little weak from the side effect of my new medicine (my cheerful young doc assures me that once I adjust to it, I won't feel this way any longer), I decided to make stew instead of doing some laps in the local high school pool as I had planned.

I hauled out my new Staub dutch oven and thoroughly browned big chunks of grass-fed chuck roast in a little olive oil on top of the stove, added onion, garlic, red wine, beef broth, carrots, parsnips and mushrooms, placed the lid on the bubbling proto-stew and set it in a slow oven to do its magic. I have some really lovely thyme going gangbusters out in the garden, so I added that and a couple of bay leaves, too.

After it bubbled along for a few hours, I took it out, let it cool, and put it in the fridge. To me, stews always taste better the next day and taking this step allows the fat to rise to the top and congeal so it's easily removed.

The final step to this true comfort food is to reheat it, remove the stew to a warm platter, cook down the juices with a little tomato paste until they are thick enough to coat the back of a spoon, then serve it all with buttered noodles or chunks of potato cooked in the goozle.

Comfort food. Maybe that's why it seemed like a good idea to return to wintry fare when spring is bounding along outside - just needed a little comfort as I contemplate aging.