So I’m busy making supper and a guy knocks on my door and says, “I’ve finished making my deliveries and have extra steaks. Only $3.00 each. Would you like to buy some? I have filet mignon and ____.”
I didn’t hear the second cut of beef he was selling. My brain was too busy trying to process the fact that this guy showed up out of no where – well, actually New York (and I live in Rhode Island) – and he just happens to have these extra steaks… for $3.00 each.
There was this little mouse in my head scramblin’ around squeaking things like, “Who are you?” “Why my door?” “Is it the house? It’s a perpetual construction zone of unfinished projects. Does it look like I would eat filet mignon?” Maybe that’s the thing. He figured I would jump at the chance to have filet mignon on a ground beef budget. (Which, come to think of it, isn’t cheap either.)
The truck he drove was the size of a small pick-up and had a box refrigerator unit in the bed. (About the size of a small U-Haul truck.) Emblazoned on the side of the white refrigerated box were the words ‘USDA Beef’ in a red and blue diamond logo.
- He appeared spiffy and clean, but what was the name of his business?
- Have the steaks been kept at proper temperature on the trip from New York to Rhode Island and during an entire day of deliveries?
- Has the meat been federally inspected? (Maybe that’s a mediocre argument given some of the documentaries out there, but still… mad cow, anyone?)
- And again, what’s the name of the business?
Okay I admit, I was running on instinct powered by that silly mouse and these questions didn’t pop into my head until after I said ‘no thanks’ and closed the door. I’ll never know the answers. But standing there confronted with this mobile meatman, I just couldn’t think this was a good thing. After all, if it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Right? (I know, I need to be more open to new things – but food poisoning isn’t one of them.)
Filet mignon for $3.00. Each.
It’s been forever since I’ve even seen one. With my frame of reference, he could have passed off almost any cut of meat (well, not a T-bone steak or a lamb chop) as filet mignon and I’m not sure I would have known any better. (I just had to google to be sure I spelled it correctly.) And then I have this magnificent piece of beef, (how many ounces do you get for $3.00. Each.??) and I don’t know that I’d do it justice ‘cuz I like my beef cooked and an expensive (except this time) cut like filet mignon is more of a stick-it-in-the-oven-turn-around-three-times-take-it-out-and-eat-it piece of beef. USDA beef. Butchered who knows where, by who knows who and only $3.00. Each.
I wouldn’t do it justice grilling it either. I know your supposed to use tongs to grill meat, but I lost mine someplace (how does that happen?) so I use my long handled granny fork and, yes, I lose some of the juice and I’m sure grillmasters everywhere are breaking out in hives. Deal with it. I don’t want to buy another pair of tongs when I have a pair around here… someplace. And for filet mignon, I’d feel obligated to buy tongs. (There goes the savings on the filet mignon for only $3.00. Each.)
And here’s the spooky thing. I already told you I was busy making supper when he showed up at my door, right?
I was grilling a (bought-on-sale) steak out on the back deck.
It’s like I drew him in with the smell or something.
So what do you think? Did I say ‘no’ to a good thing? What would you have done if he showed up at your door?
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