Shredding chuck roast is alchemy. You start with a tough, ugly lump and end with tender, succulent meat. It feels like cheating. It feels like a secret only you know.
And there’s a delightful absurdity to it. You’re actively destroying the meat, pulling it apart like a wild animal, and it’s the best possible outcome. Cooking is rarely so clear-cut.
So next time you see a chuck roast on sale, buy two. You now have the power. You’re the master of slow, sticky, glorious shreds. Go forth and pull.
