So, since Gary's adjusting to this new drug, I took over the shopping and cooking duties for the week.
Gary only buys meat that has been rendered down to the size and amount he wants. He won't take a skin off of a chicken breast, or a bone out of a pork chop. I, however, would be glad to butcher a whole cow to get what I want.
They won't sell me a cow. I asked nicely, though, and the butcher at the grocery let me have a seven pound brisket and a giant eye of round roast.
When I came home with all this meat ...
... I knew enough to tell Gary to stay out of the kitchen until I was done sawing and bagging and prepping it all. He was only able to avoid the kitchen for an hour before he came in and began howling about:
- "WE DONT HAVE SPACE FOR ALL THIS MEAT!" (We have an utterly empty chest freezer in the basement AND a half-empty freezer in the garage.)
- "YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'RE DISMEMBERING A DEAD BODY!"
I have heard these complaints before. It's okay. It took hours, but we're all set for meat for the next few months, and everything's seasoned and waiting in sous-vide bags. I need that full larder feeling in the winter months, even if I have to play butcher to get it.