Where’s the Beef?

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I am so not cut out to be a vegetarian. Not that I’m deliberately trying to be one, as I know better. But I’ve unintentionally gone two days without meat and I’m ready to start gnawing on the first cloven-hoofed or feathered beast that crosses my path. Without salt.

I had been nestled all snug in my bed, but couldn’t get to sleep because I was starving. Well, not literally starving, obviously, but the stomach was sending out definite distress signals because of the lack of animal protein. Due to the hour, a chunk of cheese with some crackers is going to have to suffice. Yes, yes, I know that cheese is supposed to give you weird dreams, but I’ll take my chances. At least it’s protein, sort of. What I really want, though, is to sink my choppers into the tasty morsel pictured above. And yes, I could do justice to the baked potato, too. Serious justice. Sigh.

And how did I let myself get into this desperate state? Well, Daughter has been in the mood to man the kitchen for the past couple of days, and I’m not foolish enough to discourage such things. The only catch is that she’s not a meat fan. She’ll eat chicken fairly willingly, but that’s about it. However, she hasn’t been in the mood for chicken lately, either. Yesterday it was a salad for lunch and a veggie pasta offering for supper. Today it was a pita with hummus, feta cheese and veggies, followed later by a lentil and rice combo. Very tasty, mind you, and all obviously very healthy in their own way. But, a bit of meat somewhere along the way would have made all the difference, you know?

To add insult to injury, Richard went out for supper this evening, to a leaving do for one of his workmates. They went to our favourite restaurant and, of course, he had to have his favourite selection on the menu – steak and shrimp. Which he described in graphic detail when he got home, as well as the contents of the plates of the other twelve diners in the group. Thanks. Thanks very much. And no, there wasn’t a doggie bag. There never is.

The break from kitchen duty has been very nice, but I simply must reclaim my territory tomorrow. Unless, of course, I can guilt a certain someone into taking me out for a juicy, succulent slab of meat. I haven’t used the guilt card in a long time, but I’m sure that I can think of some sin for which he must atone, if I put my mind to it. Mind you, torturing me like he did this evening is probably a serious enough offence. Yes, that will do quite nicely, methinks.

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