I Blame The Men, The Guilt, & The Hunger

A few of you know this story, but most of you don't.

Let me start off by telling you about my Easter dinner. A holiday I've never before celebrated, and one I actually (reluctantly) skipped Passover and yum-yum gefilte fish for. I think this was the beginning of the end for me. I just might be going to hell now, if I wasn't already on my way there.

We were in Mobile with my inlaws for their blessed dinner, and my mother-in-law prepared her usual feast. By usual, I'm referring to her Christmas feast, as like I said, I had never done Easter before. But nonetheless, a feast is a feast - Jewish, Catholic, Greek, or otherwise.

And with feasts, come guilt. Sure, you're probably thinking the guilt of having eaten way too much food. And no, you wouldn't be entirely wrong. But then there is the other guilt. The guilt that 'my people' have perfected after centuries of trial & error. Turns out, the Catholics were also practising their guilt inducing ways, and while they both have similar outcomes, the techniques used in getting there are very, very different.

Let's go back to the Easter dinner for a sec...

C: Alissa, I'm making your lamb recipe for dinner!
A: Ahh... great. Jeff loves it! He'll be thrilled! I have no idea what it tastes like - of course, I don't touch lamb.
C: Oh... you don't like lamb??? I thought you loved it.
A: Ummm... no.... I don't eat meat... Haven't touched it in 20 years!

Then later in the day I had the following conversation with Jeff:

J: You know my mother spent $90 on the finest lamb she could get because she thought YOU loved lamb.
A; Oh... Oh noo... ummm... ooops.... but I CAN'T eat lamb.
J: You can TRY it. She bought it FOR YOU.
A: Ummm... I just CAN'T! Baaaa.... Baaaa....
J: For me then. Eat. The. Lamb.

It comes down to very direct guilt. I'm pissed, my mother will likely be pissed, and you're gonna eat the fucken lamb.

Now Jewish people would have had the following conversation:

J: You know my mother spent $90 on the finest lamb she could get because she thought YOU loved lamb.
A; Oh... ummm... ooops.... but I CAN'T eat lamb.
J: Fine, don't eat the lamb. My mother will be devestated. She DID buy is JUST FOR YOU. But that's okay.... do whatever you think is right... if you can't eat the lamb... if the lamb is going to kill you... then of course, you shouldn't eat the lamb. I couldn't live with myself should you try the lamb, then drop dead.

And should my inlaws have been Jewish, I would have spent the remainder of the day with many nasal-induced sound effects, eye glances, downward stares, and ultra-slow head nodding everytime someone saw me coming or going.

End result would likely be the same. I ate the damn lamb.

A couple of weeks ago, Jeff & I were going to have a little BBQ dinner. Nothing fancy, nothing out of the ordinary - just hamburgers for him, and chicken burgers for me. Normally I make myself turkey burgers, but wouldn't you know it, the grocery store was all sold out. So I took some not-too-old ground chicken out of the freezer (which had been acting up lately), thawed it, and made my burgers.

At the last minute, Jeff decided he'd rather have a steak, so I ran back to the store & picked up one fine looking tenderloin. Since the burgers were all already made from previously frozen beef, I couldn't re-freeze anything, so we cooked up EVERYTHING. That makes for a lot of food. At least for a normal person with a normal appetite. For me, it was just dinner on a Tuesday.

After what seemed an eternity, everything was ready - and I was STARVING.

I lovingly prepared my bun, full of all my wonderfully laid out condiments - bbq sauce, stone ground mustard, tomatoes, lettuce, onions, mushrooms. It was an orgasim on a lightly toasted sesame seed bun I tell you. I picked up my burger, took a whopper of a bite, and almost heaved it across the table. RANCID!!!! Oh the disappointment. Words can't possibly explain. Like I said, lately we'd been having freezer issues, and what with the frozen/thawed/maybe frozen meat... well, EWWWW. Clearly bad. Or maybe it was just because I normally get turkey. In any case, it was inedible. At least by me, and the little guy temporarily renting space in my insides.

Then I looked across the table at Jeff, Jeff with his plate full of perfectly cooked hamburgers, and even more perfectly cooked beef tenderloin. Done to an exact medium rare, all pink & juicy.

He looked at me.

J: Want some?
A: Noooo.. I couldn't.
J: Okay.
A:
J: You sure?
A: Ummmm.... well, okay. Just a bite... just this ONCE.

And let me tell you folks, it's been downhill since then.

The net-net of the whole new-to-me food experience:

Baaaa Baaaa = Barf
Moooo Moooo = Mmmmm!!!!

Tenderloin is delicious!!
Still don't like hamburgers. Would opt for a turkey/veggie/soy burger any day.

The next week I had ribs. Beef ribs.