I should probably wax poetic about the end of the year, my lessons learned, my hopes for 2011. I may fall into that trap tomorrow. Today I want to tell you about my trip to the meat market.
Until breakfast this morning, Walter and I were undecided about whether to cook New Year's Day dinner or take the fam to eat out. We finally decided on eating in, so that we could guarantee the right kind of luck and money (black-eyed peas and cabbage) in our NYD diets. This sent me off shortly after breakfast to Readfield's (my butcher) in search of a pork loin. I took my running buddy, Emma (niece extraordinaire) with me.
|Said niece, Emma|
Emma was fascinated by a store where all you can buy is meat and meat-related stuff. After Ben, my favorite butcher (and don't tell me that everyone doesn't have a fave butcher), picked and wrapped our roast, Emma wanted to carry that almost ten pound beauty to the cash register.
At first she cradled it, but since it is long and a bit unwieldy, she opted for slinging it over her shoulder (like a continental solider), and hefting it to the check out. I helped her get it up on the counter, where she tapped on it while Tammy rang it up. Someone asked if she was tenderizing it, and she agreed that that was what she was doing.
Emma insisted on carrying it out to the car and pulled it up on her lap for the ride home, where she continued to make a very satisfying noise slapping it as we drove along.
After a few minutes she asked, "Aunt Vickie, do you think I have terrorized this end enough?"
I pronounced it suitably terrorized and she worked her way to the other end.
I am perfectly certain that we will have the most terrorized roast in the neighborhood for our family dinner tomorrow and with all the black-eyed peas and cabbage we are going to eat, we will be the most fortunate family as well.