Our celebrating, almost "too-too" Spirea, hung over by rain
Our little corner of Pennsylvania dawned rather cold and gloomy this morning. The birds are still busy and giddy over the one strawberry patch I forgot to net last night; they are not affected by the deep internal sighs that accompany turning on the heat in mid May.
Still, in honor of my in-laws and the silly weather, I unwrapped some beef. Mind you, cooking a bloody slab of beef is not a celebration in most American homes, but a way of life. (Cue out-of-context Aaron Copland music: BEEF! IT'S WHAT'S FOR DINNER!)
But for us, who try to be responsible eaters and who are almost-solely-vegetarian (for ethical and health reasons) and buy only local/organic/non-tampered-with meat, a slab of beef is a rare occasion indeed. This particular beef came from a gorgeous, long-haired, happy highland cow from a local farm. The proprietors of the Strath an De Farm generously drove us around their farm so our girls could see the source of their food and we could enjoy their vintage farm implements. From our seat in the back of a wagon, we soaked in the deep greens of their land and the grace of their Scottish highland cattle.
Today I cubed the beef and browned it in olive oil and cornmeal; I crumbled in dried thyme and parsley from last summer's harvests, and I left it and an assortment of delightful vegetables to simmer slowly, filling the house with warmth. Beatrix slept soundly through all; Merry and Elspeth were quiet and content. Lovely.
