It turned out pretty darn perfect, if I do say so myself. Not that it was hard - throw it in the crock pot before work, take it out after work - but like I've said before, crock pots make me nervous.
Really, the hardest part (have I made this speech before?) was at the grocery store, figuring out which hunk of meat was a "pot roast." Or rather...the right kind of pot roast. There were, like...a half a dozen or more different cuts of beef whose labels all included the words "pot" and "roast." Usually with two or three other descriptives in between. I must have guessed right, though, because the end result was supremely edible.
(My mother is shamed, SHAMED, I tell you, to have raised a daughter who doesn't know how to pick out a pot roast at the grocery store.)
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