“There’s quite a bit of it, admittedly,” says Short Tony.
He unlocks the back of his chicken-transporter truck and we gaze at the beef that towers within.
“Yes,” I agree.
Short Tony and Len the Fish have been at the butcher’s since early morning, sorting out the Community Cow. I take a step back and look at his tired and careworn frame. He carries the unmistakable air of a man who is tired of beef.
We stand for a while, contemplating the enormity of the beef mountain. To my layman’s eye, Len the Fish has done an excellent job of the butchery, in that it is dead, has been sliced up into bits, and put into bags. Short Tony begins listlessly sifting through the cuts. I, also, can summon no enthusiasm for the task. We have been using up stuff from the freezer for three weeks now, and I haven’t consumed a vegetable since the last of the peas.
“When is Len the Fish coming to collect his third?” I ask.
It transpires that Len the Fish has already collected his third.
We start to divvy up the beef. Clearly it is too much to carry back to the Cottage, so I fetch a wheelbarrow. I cheer up as I load. At least we have saved lots of money by buying beef by the cow, and if there is too much for me to store then I will be able to keep it in Short Tony’s new chest freezer, which he has had to buy as an emergency purchase in order to accommodate the money-saving meat.
“I will bring any back that I can’t fit in,” I tell him, disappearing via the secret path that leads between our houses.
I load the beef into our freezer. There is some left over, so I take that back to Short Tony’s, using the wheelbarrow.
Later I speak to the LTLP.
“What’s for dinner?” she asks.
Oh dear! Beef for Christmas and Easter then?
Three of you went into this venture….so you all had an equal steak in it!
Sorry!
You had to add – “and a potato,” didn’t you, Jonny. You never learn.
You can always hold a bar-b-que and sell tickets.
Ah, I remember those ‘cow killing’ days – coming home from school and finding I couldn’t get into the kitchen for the piles of dead cow on every surface.
Who got the head? My mum gave one to the outside dog, and the skull sat in the back drive for weeks after. It was the first thing I saw every morning as I pulled back the curtains.
And my family wonder why I’m not a big meat eater.
“via the secret path that leads between our houses”…What are you?… Five years old?…Next it will be a string telephone to the Len the Fish, and spud guns at dawn with John Twonil.
Whatever happened to Mad Cow Disease, anyway? It seems to Eighties now, like celebrity AIDS…
Still – bon appetit, Jonny!
“What’s for dinner?” she asks.
One of the greatest straight lines in the history of blogdom.
(Entirely SFW. Sorry.)
I hope that there is a cook book out there dedicated entirely to recipes involving beef. God knows I needed one when I bought an oversized turkey many moons ago. Eating the same meat gets ever so boring after a while.
I wonder if this adventure will end up with you turning vegetarian.
There is a Beef Board!!! (Via Angie’s link)
Is that anything like a cheese board? Like an enormous slate with different cuts of beef on?
Admit it – you did this simply to muster support for the nickname you’ve been trying to get the locals to start calling you: Jonny Beef, right?
Well you know Megan, the ladies have been calling me that for some time.
On account of the smell or your dangling udders, Jonny?