Tuesday, May 18, 2010

The Great Beefy Experiment

I did it, that which no one before had been willing to! Or at least no one had been willing to do it, take pictures of it, write about it, and then place it on my blog. I'm a real trail blazer here. Be grateful dear readers, I have taken a beefy bullet for you. A bullet made of cholesterol. Aimed right at my already fat encased heart.

For your consideration, THE GREAT BEEFY EXPERIMENT.



What you see above are two T-Bones steaks. Not so very different in color, shape or size. The difference is more subtle than that. For the full tale of beefy duplicity, we must go back into the distant past. Hop with me into my way-back machine to four days ago. I was minding my own business (personally supervising the entire world, if I don't it goes to pot. See: Gulf Oil Spill. I was taking a nap. Sorry, my bad.) when I came across an article that suggested today's modern beef critters are pumped so full of hormones and corn they might as well be Arnold Schwarzenegger at a state fair. With a roasted ear of corn. Keep up.

The writer of these (what I presumed to be) lies insisted that beef critters raised on grass and not fed with corn and delicious, delicious hormones would in fact taste better, and beefier. I resolved to prove this false immediately. It is a well known fact that cows love their growth hormones and corn, otherwise why would they agree to get shot up with the stuff once a week while literally shoveling as much corn down as their four stomachs will hold. If this man were right it could lead to some serious depression in the bovine community after their steroids and maize are taken away. Soon there would be a rash of cow suicides. Those not depressed enough to kill themselves would certainly begin raiding our local pharmacies to get their fix. Clearly this writer is a mad man who has given no thought to the way his words will affect us. By leading to the eventual Bovine Apocalypse where we all call Bessie master. I could not let this happen.

I went to the local farmers market and managed to push my way through the throng of hippies playing hacky sack and smoking their bongs to the meat counter. I paid $13.50 for a T-Bone steak. That's $17.99 a pound. For cow meat. They aren't made out of cocaine. Already I sensed a problem. When farmers find out they could make that much from their dead cows, they would surely begin depriving their animals of 'roids and corn.

I then went to the local grocery store which was full of honest God fearing Americans. Not a bong or hacky sack in sight. I was able to obtain a T-Bone steak here for $10.00. But it was quite a bit bigger. This steak was $9.99 a pound. While still outrageous, I was comforted that I would at least be able to taste the 'roids and corn.

I seasoned them liberally and placed them on the grill.


I then flipped them. Once and only once. Anyone who repeatedly flips their meat should be shot. I've got some free time next week and will be taking care of these people. Godless heathens, drying out their meat. Not giving enough time for a proper sear. I'll be going alphabetically. Aaron A. Aaronson from Anchorage, Alaska...get a bullet proof vest.


They had developed a nice sear. I didn't favor one over the other. Above you can see that the steak I paid $13.00 for didn't suddenly turn into gold or stripper coupons. It just stayed steak. It's the one on the left. Or bottom. Bottom-left.

I brought them inside and consumed them. Naturally no opinion was needed but mine, and I could have happily consumed both steaks by myself, but Action Wife insisted that she needed to eat too. If you don't feed her every week she dies. Astounding.


We shared and both offered our opinions. Naturally mine should receive more weight than hers, I eat my body weight in beef once a month, she eats salad. Salad. Sometimes without meat on it. Last week, I saw her eat a salad with no meat or dressing. I vomited.



Because we both came to the same conclusion, it's a moot point. But still...dry salad. Ugh. More disturbing than Action Wife's bizarre eating habits are the results of this Grand Beefy Experiment (GBE). The cow who had to suffer miserably it's whole life without any performance enhancing drugs or delicious sweet, sweet corn tasted better. Much better. I am really at a loss as to how to address this issue. I have begun preparing for the inevitable and I suggest you do too. Except you Aaron A. Aaronson, don't bother. You don't have much time left.

We must accept our fate as a human race. One of quiet obedience. And I, for one, welcome our new Beefy Overlords.