Last night we did something in this house we’ve not done in years.
We broiled steaks.
Oh, yes, we like our new stove. We filled the manse with the aroma of good things to eat and lo, they were good to eat. Our taste buds did happy dances while we feasted. I assume our guests likewise experienced satori, possibly with each bite.
Steak, asparagus, rice, sour dough rye bread, salad…we did it up royally. Two excellent bottles of wine. (My mother, by the way, would be amazed that I’d eaten asparagus willingly. As a child I was most decidedly anti-vegetable. I’m still less interested in them than in meat, but since I’ve learned what some of them taste like when properly prepared…)
Yes, I am a carnivore. Proud of it. Should the Vegans seize control of the nuclear arsenals of the world and force the U.N. to adopt resolutions eliminating the consumption of flesh by humans, I will take up arms to depose them. I long ago adopted my metric, which is that any animal I would have as a pet will not be served as dinner in my house, but as I am disinclined to make a pet of cows, sheep, pigs, chickens, and so on and so forth, it is a narrow range of critters exempt from my dietary preferences.
And last night I demonstrated to myself once more why.
There is an excellent store in St. Louis Hills, an old Tom-Boy that has become part deli, part butcher shop, part catering company. Le Grand has the best cuts and I bought three one-pound rib-eyes, two pork steaks, two pounds of ground beef and cooked last night. Friends were over. We feasted. The star of the evening was our new appliance, without which….
It may be a while before we broil again—it’s summer and the kitchen is, after all, small—but that leaves a great deal to play with on the range.
Anyway, I just wanted to report that we have inaugurated the stove and it proved worthy.
Hope the weekend is a good one for you.