Text 25707, 70 rader
Skriven 2015-04-06 04:09:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
     Kommentar till en text av NANCY BACKUS
Ärende: beefy wanderings 469
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 ML> eyes looked not too great, so I queried whether it was moist,
 ML> and she said, oh, yes, and wrapped the stuff up in butcher
 ML> paper so I couldn't see it before sitting down at table. It
 ML> turned out to be not so moist by any standard - actually
 ML> dry and rather ordinary. So I marched back (against the line,
 ML> which takes more balls than I usually have) and challenged
 ML> the girl with her handiwork. A small argument ensued, with
 NB> Sounds like you had good cause... and good on you for standing up for
 NB> your rights...  :)  She didn't have to behave that way... 

I don't understand what the people behind the counter are
thinking. Unless it's a case similar to the evolution of
spiciness levels in the US. Some tourist who has read that
the apotheosis of meat is moist brisket, his source being
the Atlantic or USA Today or the New York Times, orders it
and then complains that it was too fatty (you see this a
lot in Trip Advisor and Yelp and suchlike). And instead of
saying that's what you ordered, you ignorant butthole, the
people behind the counter cut them another order saying,
sorry, our mistake. So the language evolves, sort of, so
moist brisket from a tourister-looking person may mean
something else than the same order from a drawly big white
guy with a ten-gallon hat.

And there's the issue of Wagyu beef. So some intrepid
traveler in the olden days tasted Kobe beef and found it
the next best thing to foie gras (which it is). And you
could get the stuff outside Japan, thanks to the miracles
of dry ice and fast jets. Then some clever person decided
to take some of those cattle from Japan (perhaps smuggled)
and grow them to Japanese specs and label them Kobe, the
US being exceptionally lax on the appellations that are so
highly prized and protected by other cultures. But other
than les plus fins gourmets, nobody would buy, so what to
do. Of course, take animals with any Japanese bloodlines,
raise them normally, and then call them Kobe and sell the
meat at grossly inflated prices. The evolution goes, as I
see it, that clever whistleblowers got hold of the scandal
(why didn't they do this with fake crab, I wonder), so the
growers started using terms such as Kobe-style and Wagyu.
And on and on, and you can now get Wagyu so-called burgers
at thousands of places, despite the fact that a burger
actually worthy of the name would put off any red-blooded
American eater. Yesterday I ate samples of Wagyu from Kyushu
(rivalling Kobe in reputation). How I got access to it and
how much it cost I will not divulge. Four 1/2 oz slices of
what was billed as "choice short rib" but I believe was
actually navel brisket; an ounce each of chuck tender and
tri-tip. I would estimate these as 60, 50, and 40 percent
fat respectively. They were all incredibly beefy and luscious,
with the tri-tip actually the tenderest and the chuck tender
a bit chewy. 

 ML> many witnesses, including, thankfully, the boss, who gave
 ML> the meat one look and then himself cut me at least a pound
 ML> and half of the best. I took the first order and, in view of
 ML> customers and staff, and threw it noisily in the trash.
 NB> Sounds quite a satisfying action... ;) 

Afterward I was torn between being proud and embarrassed.

 ML> The second order was perfect. It also prevented us from even
 ML> thinking about going to Kreuz or Chisholm or Smitty's.
 NB> And a perfectly satisfying meal, as well...  :)

Aside from a small residual knot in my stomach, all was well. 

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