MEAT

One of the earliest posts I made on this blog was a screed against vegetarians. Very little Liberal Guilt™ impedes my consumption of animal flesh.

Case in point: Monday night, faithful blogger Kelly and I went to Merle's. If you like meat, eat at Merle's. Any kind of barbeque you can think of, whether wet, dry, or in between, they have it. Red states may not be able to vote responsibly, but damn, do they know how to cook.

I had a half-slab of smoked ribs done up with a Tennesee sauce. And it was a combo, so I got to pick another meat. I picked pulled beef brisket. My two sides were mac-and-cheese and baked beans. When my meal came to the table, I was presented with a plate with the ribs--a slice of bacon was cooked right into the slab--and three bowls with the brisket and the sides. It was presented as meat with a side of meat.

Kelly had pork chops. Everyone is so scared of pork so they overcook it. Too often, homecooked pork chops I'm served are black and tough. Properly cooked pork is tender and juicy with a creamy color. Kelly's pork chops, of which he was happy to share a bite, were perfect.

Washed down with a mason jar full of beer, and I was pretty much just drunk on meat.

A few months ago, I was part of a group that went to Fogo de Chao. Talk about drunk on meat. I must have eaten three pounds of meat, all perfectly cooked. Lamb, beef, pork, chicken. Totally awesome.

Last night, I decided to try the mexican place around the corner from my new apartment. I wasn't feeling adventurous, so I ordered what I usually get: burrito suizo de pollo, muchas gracias. Then I gandered at the house specialties, some Ecuadorian cuisine.

They serve goat.

I remember reading the Cliff's Notes for The Iliad or The Odyssey or something like that in high school (I'm a late bloomer in intelligencia). There was a description of a feast at which goat was served. Since then, I've always wanted to try it.

The woman at the restaurant last night said the closest comparison would be venison. I love venison. So I'll be heading over there soon to order up some goat.

What I'm talking about here is good meat. Meat that's raised properly and humanely. Meat that doesn't exploit workers. Meat that isn't injected full of hormones and what not. Cheeseburgers (which I don't eat anymore after reading Fast Food Nation) are usually not good meat.

And I don't eat a pound of meat every day. I don't order my salads with extra beef. The occasional gorge is okay (and delicious), but we still have to eat in a way that is responsible to our bodies.

So what's the point of all this?

Actually, I don't think I had a point. I just wanted to tell you that I love meat.