Wednesday, 21 April 2010

Men and their meat

That title sounds weird.  

Rest assured, I'm just referring to meat in the truest sense - the carnivorous, North American, gotta-love-our-pigs-and-cows sense... the I-have-to-have-meat-with-every-meal sense. 

My husband loves his meat.  He loves ribs.  He loves pork loin.  He likes burgers and hot dogs and chicken wings (if they're crispy).  He likes fish now and then (if you call that meat) and he'll eat roast beef or turkey if its on his plate.  He insists on having meat with every meal - it's a staple.  He says that without meat, a meal "won't fill my left nipple".   

My husband will spend 30 minutes at the meat counter.  He'll look behind that shiny glass, admiring all his red and slimy choices, looking for the perfect accompaniment to the rest of the food he plans to shovel into his mouth.  He makes an almost daily trip to the meat counter.  He weighs the pros and cons of every choice. (Can you say OPTIONS ANALYSIS?).  He considers the price, and how much fat is on the cut, and how fresh it is, and what he'll eat with it.  He'll wander from the glass case, to the sale bin, to the meat wall, and back again, determining the absolutely perfect choice.  He'll spend even MORE time trying to find the best choice for ME, thinking that I MUST have the same affinity for meat that he does.  Guess again.  

We go through this ritual before nearly every dinner.  FIRST, we decide we want to make dinner.  (As if it's a new friggin decision every goddam day).  Then I'll ask "What do you want for dinner Dear?" (for some reason expecting him to have given it some thought.)  Nope, he has no idea.  I'll suggest things.  Usually to know avail.  Eventually, he'll come up with an excellent idea.  "I need some meat" he'll say.  

So we head off to the local grocer - not the best priced, most appropriate grocer, but the closest grocer with the best selection of meat.  We start with the produce.  What will be the side dish to his meat?  Broccoli?  Mushrooms?  Asparagus? (Asparagus is usually for a 'fancy' night.)  Then bread - we must have garlic bread.  A meal is not a meal without garlic cheese bread.  (To be fair, I do tend to agree with that.) 

Then MEAT.  In the time he is looking at meat, I am getting apples and yogurt and milk - all the regular things we run out of.  When I've finished my collection of necessities, I walk up and down the ailes searching for him, assuming he must be getting some additional supplies.  I should know better.  He's still looking at MEAT.  (And on the rare occasion that he's not looking at meat, he's spending 20 minutes searching for the best packaged marinade.)  


By the time we make it to the cashier, we have the same flipping argument in front of the poor kid at the register.  Do we want a bag?  "No, Honey, we just carried it all to the cash, so we can carry it to the car" I'll say.  Usually the decision gets left up to the poor sucker who's ringing in our purchase. 


By the time we get home it's too late to eat anyway (not that we don't, just that we shouldn't).  When I arrived home tonight at 6:20 he asked me how I was.  "Starving!" I answered.  It is at this moment 8:56 pm.  I am writing this while waiting for my loving husband to prepare my meal - complete with BBQ RIBS.  (Back ribs AND side ribs, because the back ribs weren't big enough.) Sigh...


...They do smell good though. 

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