Meet the Meat.

*Warning: This post not for the squeamish or puritan vegetable folk*

I was just intimidated by a piece of meat. Tonight, I'm making Aussie Berko. At Marrickville, I asked the butcher for 4 pieces of beef Osso Bucco (the shin piece). Those 4 pieces came to a kilo and a half due to two of them being enormous. As part of the recipe, I have to brown the pieces in the casserole dish before it goes in the oven. These two pieces are so big, I have to brown the meat in two batches. I then take the meat out to rest while the veggies cook. As it was resting, I glanced over at the topmost and biggest piece. And it grossed me out.

I'm not that squeamish, not really. Admittedly, I don't like things that stick to my hands while I cook (like egg or mince or flour or things like that) so I rinse my hands a lot. But this? Okay. I'll try to explain.

Osso Bucco, or shin beef, looks like this. That is fine. But this piece had been badly cut, which meant that in addition to the central bone, there was a second half-piece of bone stuck to the bottom. This second piece was belled outward, so it was most likely fron the end of the bone near the joint. You know what else is near joints? Tendons. Ligaments. Things that look like tubes or straws. So after I'd browned the meat, I took off this second piece of bone and there was a reddish mess of tubes and I nearly gagged.

Yes. I understand meat comes from an animal, an animal that was once alive. I get that, I understand that. For some reason though, that just hit me.

The meat is now in the oven. I shall conquer my moment of fear by consuming it in a delicious tomato-dark beer sauce.

....or I might cut that bit out and leave it on the side of my plate.

On an completely unrelated note, last night, while making Sausage & Zucchini Carbonara (a future Cooking Post), I was zesting a lemon overzealously, and manages to drag the zester across my thumb. Here it is after a day of healing (it bled like a mofo). Today Tanja and I stopped in at Caketown to pick up something, and chatted with the guy who runs the place. As he handed us out purchase, he noticed I had a bandage on my thumb, and showed his own thumb, which had a cut a few days old on it, and said we were in the same boat. "No," I replied. "Lemon zester." He made a face, turned away and threw his hands up all in one motion (which was a thing to behold) and declared "Eyargh! That's why I work with pastry, not with meat! Ugh!"

So I got to feel tough.

Edit: A post-script. The meal turned out to be so bad as to be inedible. The meat was tough, even near the bone, and the broth, which is usually rich and flavourful was bland and tasteless. Clearly, I should have gone with my gut instinct and backed off. So the whole pot (meant to be two nights' dinners) went in the bin. I'm further frustrated because Tanja is always hesitant to have this dish, as stews are not her favourite thing. The first time she had this, she did not like it. The second time she did. This time, I had to convince her to have it for dinner. Which then failed spectacularly. I don't think I'll get to make it a fourth time. [glum]