Monday, July 29, 2013

the 5 pound rib roast

I love beef, I really do. A friend asked what I'd be willing to give up - meat or alcohol. Impossible question brah. What's the point of living then, if you have to choose between those two. I hate hypothetical questions. You need to have a serious lack of imagination to wonder (and ask other people).

A few weeks ago, I bought a rib roast. A five pounder, the cashier called it 'a dinosaur bone'. I had no intention of sharing, so instead of roasting it whole, I broke it down into steaks. Four portions and the bone. You slide your knife along the ribs to take them off first, leaving you with a chunk of meat you can simply slice into (thick) steaks. The butchers wrapped a layer of fat around the outside, which, if you're not roasting, is sadly not usable. A noble sacrifice. This particular butcher shop dry ages its beef for 28 days. If you can't finish it all in one go, you can wrap the steaks up in wax paper and freeze them - they will hold in the freezer.

This week turns out to be a busy one, lots to do. I really need to stop sleeping in because spending 12 hours a day in bed is no way to go. A definite sense of finality settling in - everything seems to be 'the last time' for me. Do I still try to talk to her? Am I really being sincere? Now that I'm older - as a friend said, we're just about pushing 30 - there's a sense that I've experienced things, that I know how things work, so to speak. Yet I'm so uncomfortable giving advice to others. I suppose it's in my nature. I just don't like doing it, and besides, I'm really in no position to be giving advice to anyone. I mean, look at me, does it look like I've got my shit together?!

Beef. And wine. The things I go back to when I need a some alone time, the things I can be sure about. And yes, despite the best advice my friends try to give, I supposed I'll keep trying to talk to her. I'm a slow learner, and apparently, not too bright. But there's a certain charm in that too. Tener una buena semana mis amigos!


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