And the worst kind: ground beef. I found a mis-marked package at the grocery store. I don’t know how I saw it, or even quite why I was in the beef section. I was making a loop around the cases, thinking about taking advantage of a hot Italian sausage special (I didn’t), and somehow I saw the price from the corner of my eye among the mountains of pre-packaged meat: $1.13.
I labored over it. Oh, no, I didn’t immediately dump that hulking package into my cart. But once I did, I made a loop back to return it to the case, or to one of the meat department employees. But I didn’t. I kept it. And bought it.
I haven’t purchased industrial beef in years. Thinking back, I began tapering off significantly since reading Fast Food Nation, then pretty much stopped completely with The Omnivore’s Dilemma. I’ve also had my run-ins with other supermarket meat (see Birdzilla). But I do purchase other meats and fish. Look, I like it to an extent, and my daughter, since starting solid food, almost always eats her meat first.
We do go meatless probably more often than most American families, with an ever-growing repertoire of grains, beans and any invented combination thereof. And it’s not because we’re vegan, vegetarian or even anti-flesh. It’s just a fresh, good way to eat: inventive, expressive and inexpensive, and the household enjoys it.
But, my God, what have I done.
For one dollar. And thirteen cents.
My ticking time bomb is still sitting in the lowest, coldest part of my fridge, waiting to be either divided, or pre-shaped or simply frozen into a 5+ pound block. I can’t get it out of my mind, yet can’t bring myself to face it for further butchering.
Any way you cut it, I won’t be partaking of it once prepared, or if prepared. I bought it, yes, but won’t eat it. Does that make me a hypocrite? If I serve it to my family, what does that say – it’s not good enough for me, but good enough for you? If I spread it among extended family and friends, perhaps grilled for Memorial Day, July 4th, or any given softball league weekend, am I making them all complicit in this sin? Am I being a budget-minded pragmatist by utilizing this find, or am I completely and morally compromised?
What bothers me further is that I keep coming up with ideas for variations on the basic burger, and I can’t help it. This boatload of beef could be turned into enough burgers to feed the neighborhood and cover all tastes and preferences: Microplaned garlic mixed into the beef and a knob of Gorgonzola tucked inside the patty. Mixed olive tapenade inside the burger, topped with Iberico or Zamorano [yes!] sheep’s milk cheese, served with a slightly chilled Tempranillo. Thinner patties, topped with grilled Portobellos, fresh rosemary from the garden, aged balsamic and melted, oozing Teleggio cheese. Or I could try a variation of a Sicilian meatloaf I have made with ground pork: integrate grated aged Provolone cheese into seasoned meat full of fresh Italian parsley, with a slice of hard-boiled egg in the center. Trust me, it’s delicious. Choose your Italian red to accompany.
I disgust myself.
And I can’t give the beef away. My church always accepts foods for the needy in our area, and we donate to the box on the occasional Sunday or whenever there’s a drive. But this is packaged meat, not a canned good or boxed cereal. I could return it to the grocery store, but it would not be accepted back. If it were, it would be discarded. I’ve thought about divvying it up between my parents and in-laws. Remember, I’m a believer in a well-stocked freezer. But see the paragraph above beginning, “Any way you cut it.” It’s the same as cooking and serving it to them as guests.
I don’t think anyone enjoying a burger in my backyard or a Sicilian meatloaf in my dining room would take this as seriously as I am right now. And, given the problems in the world, and my coming up a little short on my daughter’s preschool tuition this month, my considering this $1.13 Styrofoam pallet of beef so extensively is a luxury.
I should just take it for what it is. And try to live with myself later.
I’ll let you know if I can.
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