I met my future dinner yesterday. I looked him directly in the eye; and he looked back. There seemed to be sadness in those black, wet eyes. As gentle eyelashes fell across large pupils a shroud fell across my innocence. He knew. But what was really troubling me was the design of the new BBQ I needed to build.
Now that my little Angus steer has been separated from the herd the eternal question arises, to name or not to name? For a steak by any other name would be just as succulent, juicy, tender, sweet…
Freezer related puns are timeless classics. Sammy (Samsung), The House (Westinghouse) or maybe Le Gustation (LG). But does this trivialise the ritual? A more heroic name might be in order to symbolise a soldier’s strength. A name to capture that characteristic of going into battle knowing this could be their last day. Foot Soldier 215-265 (our address followed by his TAG NUMBER) is a bit too cold. Maximus the Valiant, or Spartacus the Selfless might sum up his last days more aptly before giving his life for the benefit of others.
Arnie’s bulging muscles from The Terminator days are what’s required rather than the tense fated muscles of a martyr. If his name is spoken, let it be done in a vague Austrian accent: The Kelvinator!
I’ve often heard the argument for vegetarianism being supported by the notion that most people couldn’t be death’s servant and deliver the fatal blow. I’ve never had to face up to this reality and fortunately I won’t be on this occasion either. The killing and butchering will be left in the capable hands of the willing, though I do have a say in which cuts of meat will be the end result. I’d like to think this makes me the architect not the assassin.
What is the appropriate decorum during forthcoming visits? Should I let his impending doom lie dormant below the surface or bring it to the forefront and share the experience in sombre reflections of the circle of life? What greater life lived than one in service of others? Light relief maybe what the little fellow needs. “Grow you good thing.” “My, what a big butt you have.”
As I look back into The Kelvinator’s dark, docile eyes, his tongue an impressive 3 to 4 inches up his nose, I continue to grapple with life’s complex web and eventually settle on a traditional wood-fired brick design with an open grill. You simply can’t beat a smoky flavoured, thick cut, 12 month old Angus steak.
