« The Next Generation | Main | Day of Games »
January 26, 2007
Primitive Beef
Yesterday we received a visitor, our good friend David Turner whom we have not seen in a long time on account of his being a very important person. For most of the last ten months David has been touring with Spamalot, playing Brave Sir Robin and many other characters.
Next week he is beginning a new show in New York, but we persuaded him to spend a few days with us in the barn before rehearsals get under way. A pastoral retreat. A bucolic romp.
His train arrived in Wilimington, Deleware, the closest outpost of train-accessable civilization.
On the long drive back to Chestertown, we grew powerfully hungry, and started remembering the best meals of our lives. We were in the mood for something outrageously unhealthy, something comforting, something that would remind us of our glory days and leave us fat and happy.
We both thought of the primitive beef, a noodly, beefy meal of yore, the final word in comfort food.
Now, no discussion of the primitive beef is complete without Christian, who either invented it or at least introduced it to us.
Primitive beef originator Christian Vainieri (pictured here at recent cupcake decorating event)
But Christian, who is cramming madly for the Maryland Bar exam, was not available for fun, and so we resolved to prepare and eat the beef in his honor. Only we couldn't quite remember how to make it. We called him. There was no answer. Undaunted, we went to the grocery store and purchased the ingredients as we remembered them: beef, macaroni noodles, onion, tomato sauce, worchestershire sauce, hot mustard powder.
The fact that we lack a stovetop did not deter us. We got out the hot plate and sauteed the onions before browning the meat. We added the 64-ounce can of tomato sauce and then the macaroni, which according to David, who seemed more confident than I felt, would cook in the tomato sauce as it reduced. Which meant we'd need a good lid for the skillet, to ensure that the liquid did not evaporate before the noodles could cook.
We felt urgency. We felt panic. Had we not felt pressed by a raw desperation, we might never have thought to use the lid of the galvanized tin recycling can to cover our skillet.
A tad larger than Betty Crocker might have recommended, but the lid did the trick. Beneath it's hulking mass, the primitive beef simmered richly, belching forth pleasing aromas.
It was impossible not to sample it constantly.
Before long, it was done. Perfect and steaming.
Sad to be without him, we invoked Christian in our pre-meal blessings, quietly cursing him for not being available earlier when we'd needed confirmation of the ingredients and overall approach to primitive beef preparation.
We might have saved our petty feelings. The meal was outstanding.
After dinner, there were presents for recent birthdays and Christmases. We gifted David with the very first seasion of Three's Company. He gave Robbi a camera with a fisheye lens. And, following a tradition now several years running, David gave me a number of amusing t-shirts. The one below is perhaps the most representative.
The odd expression on my face was on account of my realizing, at that very moment, what a bad angle this shot would be for my chin, which has a tendency to double and treble when pressed like this against my chest. Ironically, my chin looks ok, but my expression is horrible. A well-deserved punishment for my vanity.
After dinner we watched a very fine Kirk Cameron film called Left Behind (perhaps you have read the associated series of books?). As this blog is decidedly not a forum for critiquing films of the apocalyptic genre, I will refrain from expressing my opinion of it and from repeating the string of unpublishable words the act of watching brought to mind. We laughed a lot, though probably not when the filmmakers would have hoped. We want to watch the two sequels, but probably not for the right reasons.
Today we took David to the gallery to see the show. He gratified us by reading Man Joe Rises on the wall instead of bailing out and reading the book first instead.
It snowed beautifully for about 15 minutes and then stopped. The temperature dropped.
Eventually it got dark and started snowing again.
Our dinner plans were to grill salmon, and we decided to do so in spite of the snow.
I'll include this picture to establish that there was snow.
And this one because it's a better picture.
We had a fine dinner with Bob and Seiko.
The salmon (wild Alaska sockeye caught by the Behrs last summer) was delicious. Light and wholesome. A decided contrast to the primitive beef, which had sat heavily in each of us for hours.
There is still an enormous tupperware of leftover primitive beef in the fridge. Which I am afraid to approach. A certain amount of time has to pass before any of us will want to eat it again. My fear is that it will go bad before we once again feel ready. There is someting eternal about the primitive beef. Something uncorruptable and timeless. Perhaps I'll put it in the freezer. That it will be there for us. Some day when we most need it.
Posted by bogenamp at January 26, 2007 12:30 AM