My Bride makes a dish that I really like. She has always called it Mexican Meat. I call it Messkin Meat, but I mean no disrespect by that. It’s a name for the meat dish, not the people who are now and have always been my friends. They understand that I’m actually harmless. At least they THINK that I’m harmless. You might find disagreement if you look hard enough.
I like all sorts of Mexican food, and when I’ve got a cold or the flu or otherwise just don’t feel quite right, I medicate myself with Jalapenos. It’s something that works.
But….Mexican Meat. Our little Terrier-Dog, Lil, gets meat scraps all the time. Parts of steaks, chops, chicken skin…..She’s a lucky dog. But she does draw the line at rancid and “sorta” rancid hamburger meat.
Back to Mexican Meat. Today, I did a regrettable thing and happened by while the Bride was cooking up a Mess-O-Messkin Meat at the same time that she was preparing Lil a meat plate. Lil got some trimmings from a pot roast. The semi-rancid hamburger meat from the fridge was being made into a heavily spiced batch of Messkin Meat.
And that’s when my Bride accidentally blubbered a secret—The dog draws the line at semi-rancid hamburger meat, but the burger sometimes gets that way. Semi-rancid, that is. When it does get like that and the dog won’t eat it, she makes me a batch of Messkin Meat. Because I can’t tell the difference.
If the dog won’t eat it, she feeds it to me.
No, I don’t care. There’s a world of difference between semi-rancid and fully rancid. Worlds apart, I’m telling you.
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