Secret Lives of the Happily Single: Red Meat Edition June 15, 2011Posted by Onely in Great Onely Activities, Secret Lives of the Happily Single, single and happy.
Tags: how to eat red meat, living alone, single habits, singles kitchen
Welcome to the latest installment in our series Secret Lives of the Happily Single (SLOTHS), where we both stereotype and celebrate the delectably gross habits you can enjoy if you live alone and/or don’t have a “partner”.
Vegetarians might not want to read below the fold.
Recently I cooked a madness-free beef roast in the oven (using the oven is a big step for me, so feel free to offer congratulations). When I took it out, it smelled divine and my mouth watered. I dumped the chunk of meat–about the size of a large burrito–onto a plate and began opening drawers looking for a steak knife. I wanted to cut the roast into smooth, delicately drooping slices that would accentuate my broccoli. But I didn’t seem to have a steak knife. I did, however, have a bread knife–which I assumed would work just as well, because don’t they both have serrated edges?
As I sawed the hunk of meat in half with the breadknife, the roast flailed like a grounded fish and I almost sliced my fingers. Meanwhile the drool was pooling behind my lips. “Well the heck with this,” I thought, smacking the errant bread knife on the counter.
I wrapped my fingers around one half of the roast–it barely fit in my fist–and lifted it to my mouth and bit into it whole. Ahhhhh! Protein! My teeth, not being serrated, didn’t completely slice the mouthful away from the mother hunk, so I had to twist and turn my head in order to dislodge my bite. Raaaaarrrr!! I stood over my laminate counter and chewed with delight. I took another bite and again tore it free with my powerful jaws. Raaaarrr! If someone had walked by, I would have growled at them. Back off my kill!
The juices that had looked deep brown in the pan now looked pale pink and bloody as they dripped from the chunk of meat hanging out of my mouth, though my fingers and onto the plate (and the easily stained laminate counter). With each bite I felt stronger. Raaaaarrrr!
After about half the fistful of meat was gone (or pooling on the counter), I came to my senses. I sliced the remaining roast with the bread knife, with care. I would like to blame my desperate gnawing on my recurring case of iron-deficiency anemia, but the truth is I was just hungry and impatient and comfortable in the fact that no one would see me acting like a wild animal.
Even if I were sharing kitchen space with a very close and understanding loved one, I probably would have thought twice before going all Wild Kingdom with my meal. I would have wanted to spare them the sight of blood trails running down my chin, the grunts and lip smacks.
Copious Readers, if you live alone, what eating habits would you self-censor if you were sharing space with someone else?
Photo credit: Prescott