Category — Meat

I come from a long line of women who can cook: My great grandma, I’m told, made legendary pasta. My grandma rolled her own cannoli shells. My mom, a woman who loves to say, Oh, it’s so simple (particularly when her only daughter asks for clarification on some new recipe trick), has a vast cooking repertoire that ranges from bakery-worthy apple strudel to hot chicken curry just the way my dad likes it.

And as with a lot of things in life, I feel there are different ways to approach this kind of heritage: Embrace it. Or resent it.

I’ll let you guess which way I tended towards for most of my childhood and only say this: it’s amazing how we can turn blessings into curses, how we can choose to be intimidated by that which can help us grow. You may call it perfectionism; I call it ugly.

It’s like, say, when you have the opportunity to start working from home: This is such an obvious good (especially as it is the thing—the very thing—you have wanted and worked towards for years!), yet you can let yourself see it as a bad (citing all the potential problems/risks, from insurance to pay to the way it feels to step into the Unknown).

That same vice that makes you see the negatives in one situation will make you see the problems in others. But I’ve been thinking. Maybe the parallel works both ways? Maybe by learning to embrace a heritage of good home cooks, for example, you step towards learning to embrace everything else. What do you think?

I’m starting with this meat sauce.
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I am one of those obnoxious people who likes asking random questions so I can overanalyze your answers: Would you rather be smart and ugly or beautiful and dumb? If you could go anywhere, where would you go? What’s your favorite book? When did you start liking vegetables? Picture yourself in the desert.

And before any of you kind ones out there leap to reassure me that asking such questions is not obnoxious, not at all, let me just explain that this is only half the problem. The flip side is I don’t really like to answer these questions. I mean, not unless I’ve had plenty of time to really think out my answer and make it exactly what I want it to be or after I’ve really gotten to know you and feel like I can trust that you’ll understand what I mean more than what I say but, even after that point, you should know it’s pretty likely I’ll still change my mind later and, when I do, I will want you to listen to all the reasons why because we have to overanalyze it together!, but meanwhile, go ahead and give me your answer right now so I can unfairly peg and judge you if you don’t mind, thankyouverymuch.

It’s weird. And if you’re thinking I bring this up for a reason today, you already know me better than you should because the truth is, I do want to ask you something, one of those random questions that we could talk about for a half hour if you let me.

So here it is: If you had to choose between beautiful weather + ho-hum food OR ho-hum weather + fantastic food, which would you pick?
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I’m not one of those people who used to be a vegetarian, but that’s not to say I haven’t thought about it sometimes. I read one of those Best American collections—I wish I could remember which one—in grad school, and there was an essay about an American living in the U.K., maybe in Ireland? For the summer, he worked on a lambing farm, where he took care of the lambs and helped with births and, also, watched them be killed, which was devastating. I sobbed. Reading his experiences, I thought for the first time about the ethics of eating animals. Since, I’ve read about the poor conditions in meat-packing plants or the way animals are bred in dark, overcrowded buildings where they can’t move around and seldom see grassy fields or sunlight. (I wish I could’ve seen Fresh when it came to Milwaukee and will plan to watch Food, Inc.—If you’ve seen either, I’d like to hear your thoughts.)

So far for me, though, the enjoyment of a steady diet of poultry, with red meat thrown in once or twice a week, still trumps the alternatives, both because it’s such an easy way to get protein and because, honestly, it tastes good and is convenient.

This internal conflict is probably why I was so interested to read Susan Bourette’s book, Meat: A Love Story, sent to me by its publishers over a month ago and which I’m just finishing now. Marketed as a response to ethical questions like the ones I face (i.e., How can a person who likes eating meat do so without guilt?), it got my attention.

And, turns out, there are a lot of good things about this book: a window into many different aspects of the meat industry; the raising of questions many of us (meat-eating or not) may ask; encounters with diverse characters, from cattle ranchers to Inuit whale-hunters in Alaska. But what I’d hoped would be a reasoned approach towards responsibility/action turned out never to cross the line of personal story. It’s interesting, yes. Full of information, yes. You learn new perspectives. But what it isn’t, and this is worth mentioning, is anything beyond that.

Anyway, here’s where I’m at right now with meat: (1) I’m sure I want to take, with open hands, whatever food is given to me by friends, free of special demands, because I love them more than controlling what I eat. (2) And when I cook, rather than cutting meat out of my diet, I am looking for better sources of it—Whole Foods, for example, which has a cruelty-free policy; or, a C.S.A. that could give me the option to buy meat directly from farmers in Illinois.

I’d by lying if I said I didn’t buy ground beef or stew meat at Dominick’s when it’s on sale, like it was last week, but I am trying to move towards better choices, slowly, while still enjoying myself.

This stew, cooked overnight in a crock pot, is the perfect example of why I am still, happily, a carnivore. Marinated with Country Bob’s All Purpose Sauce, covered in chopped vegetables, it practically makes itself. When I pulled out a Tupperware container filled with it for lunch on Tuesday, reheating it in the microwave and bringing a forkful to my mouth, I literally exclaimed, out loud to the office, “Mmm, this is good,” one hand hitting the desk and the other frozen mid-air.

At once juicy and flavorful, rich and hearty, this stew has been as satisfying in the rainy days of early June as it would be in the winter storms of December. The combination of tomato juice and stewed tomatoes with the meat and vegetables creates a dark gravy over the lot of it, further tenderizing and moistening everything, and the marinating in the Country Bob’s sauce creates nuanced flavor throughout. If you’re of the meat-eating type, you’ll want to try this. Soon.

Slow Cooker Stew
Just slightly adapted from CountryBobs.com

In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that Country Bob’s sent me their sauce to review; however, I really would buy it again, if only to make this stew! If you’d like to give it a shot, you can try a bottle for free yourself! Just go here to have a coupon sent your way.

Ingredients:
2 pounds beef stew meat, diced into 1 inch pieces
1/4 cup Country Bob’s All Purpose Sauce (or may substitute Spicy)
1 teaspoon herb seasoning (I used Italian herb seasoning)
5 potatoes
4 carrots
1 yellow onion
3/4 cup tomato juice
1 (14.5 oz) can stewed tomatoes
2 fresh Jalapeno peppers, sliced into rings

Directions:
Prep work (probably the night before): Cut up potatoes and carrots, and slice onions; put them all in a plastic container filled with water and refrigerate overnight. Also, marinate the stew meat with Country Bob’s All Purpose Sauce and herb seasoning in a plastic storage bag. Place in the refrigerator.

The next day: Place the raw beef in the bottom of your crockpot. Drain the veggies and put them on top of the beef. Pour in the stewed tomatoes and tomato juice. If you like your stew a little spicy, add a chopped Jalapeno pepper or two. Cook on low 6 to 8 hours.