4 weeks ago...
i was in tucson...
on the phone...
"remember to take the elk"
"the elk?"
"yes. take the elk. it's less than 10 pounds of meat. put it in a cold bag and put it in may parents freezer"
"i'm not going to haul 10 pounds of elk down 6 flights of stairs, i have the baby. i'm going to need help"
"fair enough but the last time i witnessed elk spoiling, i came back to the office after a 3 day weekend and you know what the office smelled like?"
"no. what?"
"a dead body. do you want our home to smell like a dead body when we get back? take the elk"
and so a meatumental odyssey began for 10 pounds of new mexican elk that i have through the good graces of the editor who shot the 600 pound beastie"
oh...
wait...
"harvested"...
christ, the bastard hates that word.
when the lights came back on, the elk came back home with the babby and i…
through the good graces of the rents…
brought the precious wapiti home.
a week later, we hazarded spaghetti and meatballs…
or rather spaghetti and elk balls…
the bastard gets his sauce recipe from my dad, the shrink.
he walked me through it one day before I left home in 1996 and it stuck.
i'll wager it's a better recipe than most…
I season it like a smoker…
one clove of garlic more than needed…
more wine than needed…
more onion than needed…
because I used to smoke.
but that's a story for another time.
the end result was delicious…
for the elk is the magicalist of all of the meats.
2 pounds of chop down.
that leaves 3 steaks…
3 pounds of stew meat…
and a two pound roast.
meatumental…
—the bastard
No comments:
Post a Comment