Every time I step into a meat market, I think of my mom. I can’t count the times I impatiently waited as she stood in front of the clear glass that separated her from rows of raw meat. As the butcher stood on the other side of the meat case waiting for her order, she examined the ground beef and the red, marbled roasts.
She carefully inspected the pork chops and the loins. The beef she would eventually purchase must have just the right amount of marbling running through. The pork must have enough fat to give it flavor and keep it moist as it cooked.
Somehow, my antsy behavior in all of those meat markets I frequented with my mother has made a complete turn-around over the years. I’ve become my mother. Meat markets and chocolate shops (she couldn’t pass up a Fanny Farmer store) are high on my list of places I love to visit.
Last week I had the opportunity to stop into Steve’s Meat Market in Ellendale, Minn. Owner, Donnavon Eaker, was busy helping a customer as I stepped into the smokehouse-scented store.
“Having steaks on the grill tonight?” the petite Eaker asked her customer as she added up the cost of the meat purchase. The happy customer shared her plans for that day’s meat purchase and walked out with a hefty bag of meat.
Traditional shortbread should really be called “several sticks of butter – cookies”. The butter could very well be what makes them so additively mouth watering. Shortbread is not something that could linger around my house. If it does, I end up consuming 98% of it. With the weather shifting into summer and tank top season upon us, eating a large batch of shortbread would most likely keep me in turtlenecks and long sleeve t’s rather than a cute maxi or simple sun dress.
It hit me hard. A craving for pimento cheese just came out of nowhere and wham! I had to have some.
My family is pretty loosy goosy about the holidays. We’ve reduced the mania to a few key factors- a great night together with some Christmas carols, a $50 Secret Santa gift, and a fantastic meal. It’s simple and perfect. My dad is normally responsible for cooking the dinner –which is never a disappointment because he is a fantastic cook. This year, however, my folks had overbooked themselves on Secret Santa day and asked me to take care of the meal. I was thrilled because I had found a few recipes I was dying to take for a test drive and I knew my family would be eager guinea pigs.
arrived in my household I spent hours devouring it, bookmarking so many pages that the book is bloated with post-its. When the opportunity to cook for my family showed up, I knew my Mozza moment had come. Almost everything from this menu is from that cookbook.
