Linda, while you may never have cooked a Prime Rib roast, or Standing Rib Roast, I'm surprised you've never had it at some point. My OH loves to order it at a place like the "Keg" and he always has the "Keg Cut" which is thick and large. He loves it, but making it for four doesn't do it justice. I now have the butcher remove the bones and tie them back on for easier carving. My Father would consider that blasphemy. He always carved, in the kitchen.
The madhouse that was our house at dinner time, with Dad carving, me mashing potatoes and stirring the gravy, Mum running upstairs to put on a skirt and blouse, with six dogs and six children, each plate in the oven, too hot to handle while all servings were in the kitchen and then transported to the dining room, with each plate designated.
It became even more interesting when we had a Leg of Lamb (two actually) and left one on top of the very back of the stove, only to discover a certain Wolfhound ate the entire thing, bone and all in a matter of 20 minutes while we were eating our dinner!
That happened only once.
One of the boys had to light the candles, every night, and we girls (only my sister always seemed absent) had to serve! No stacking, serve from the left, take from the right...the rules were endless! But, every single night that my parents were home, we all ate together in the dining room and talked about our day and held hands to say Grace forming a family circle.
Ironically, Sunday night was the only night we ate in the Den, on trays and watched "The Wonderful World of Disney". That was our one casual night. It was always a leg of Lamb, with peas, roasted potatoes and fresh mint sauce that my Mum made with the mint from the stream.
No one dared touch their food, and the boys weren't allowed to sit until all of us girls were seated, and my Mother started first. She made the food...it was the least we could do to wait for her.
I miss those times tremendously and fortunately had the good sense to realize before it was too late what a gift it was to be together at the end of each day. I heard some hilarious stories from my Father about his youth, after dinner while still at the table, enjoying the last of a glass of wine or my milk, depending on my age. Sorry for another one of my rambling stories!
I realize this is "Recipe Share" so I do apologize for going off-topic.
The Pot Roast turned out really well.
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