Years ago, I had one of my first, great bonding moments with my (then new) father-in-law, Steve, over a particularly mountainous and delicious plate of corned beef hash. Sarah and I had just spent a week in the wilds of Northern California visiting her family and her folks took us out for a goodbye breakfast before we hopped our plane back to a Chicago. "What is everyone having" Sarah asked casually as we perused the menu. "Corned beef hash!" Steve and I proclaimed in anticipatory unison. When the plates of hash arrived, heaped high and steaming, we grinned at each other, relishing our fine choice. "You're going to eat ALL of that" Sarah somewhat judgmentally sniffed. "YEP!", we exclaimed again in gleeful affirmation. Consumed with our hash, I think he and I said about two words throughout the remainder of breakfast. However, between bites we'd catch each other's eyes and giggle quietly at the expressions of silly satisfaction we both wore. I'm sure the ladies thought we had lost our minds! We ate every last morsel and felt appropriately indulgent. I've shared a lot of meals with my in-laws since then and every time a menu with corned beef hash presents itself, Steve and I partake with as much vigor as we did over that first breakfast.
