donk79

Please tell me that wasn't an omlet with catsup that I saw. To each their own, I guess, but has the madness spread that far?

I just had to share this one. Washington Post's Robert L. Wolke I don't know whether the artistry is greater in the creation of the drink or in the creation of the description. The spirit (pun unintended, but you note I don't remove it either ) of Lt. Gen. Simon Bolivar Buckner Jr. is now my official muse.

The milk was like unto nothing that one could ever find in a grocery store today. The sad news I have for you is that no breed of cow produces anything so weak and watery as what is now labled "whole milk." Unless you have to shake the container to mix the cream in, the difference between what you are drinking and what we drank is the difference between tin can stewed tomatoes and a tomatoe fresh from the garden. This didn't lead to picky milk consumption on my part, because everything that wasn't from back home seemed all the same, palatable, but watered down. Fortunately my wife isn't picky about milk either, she won't drink any of it! The ironies of fate....

I've been silent to this point, but at last we've touched upon something so deeply etched in my soul that i can restrain my tongue no longer. I was not fortunate enough to be raised on good Texan beef, nor Scottish Highland. Instead, growing up on a dairy farm, the most readily available source of protein had been bred to put as little energy into producing meat as possible. The resultant meat was tasteless, stringy, and tough as nails. The cut always seemed to be a T-bone about half an inch thick, cooked either under the broiler or on the grill until any trace of moisture that might have accidentally been present in the first place was burned away. I can still hear the refrain of my sibling's and I "Steak again!!!" To this day, despite having had wonderful cuts of beef excellently prepared, I can never raise any enthusiasm over the prospect of eating beef.