I had just finished my last bite of juicy steak smothered in A-1 sauce when Scott Pelley led off the CBS nightly report with news that a new study has found that red meat aka steak and processed meats cause cancer.
Actually, I knew the announcement was coming because I had read it earlier in the day on my cell phone news.
I didn't cook steak yesterday to be defiant.
Like the perennial mountain needing to be climbed, I cooked steak because "It was there."
Yes, I found that package of Costco tri-tips in the freezer along with an extra package of Schwan's baby back ribs, which I think Bill may have forgotten was there.
We have two freezers, and sometimes the dozens of bags of green beans, blueberries and raspberries from a summer's picking hide other edible gems within.
So, finding the extra package of steaks brought a smile to my face and heightened excitement about last night's dinner.
I get serious about cooking dinner two or three times a week. In other cases, let's just say I throw something together. Bill never complains.
Last night's menu included garden green beans with melted swiss cheese, homegrown potatoes baked and smothered with margarine and sour cream, a juicy tri-tip cut in half for each of us and slices Mennonite honey-wheat bread topped with plum jelly.
Not even Scott Pelley's ominous report about red meat causing cancer could dull my delight with every bite of steak.
Am I gonna throw the remaining steaks away cuz another food fear has hit the airwaves? Heck no.
Am I gonna worry about dying from cancer cuz I ate that steak? No.
Am I gonna quit buying big packs of Wood's German sausages? No.
We dine on steak maybe five or six times a year, as opposed to when, as children on the North Boyer, we dined on steak two or three times a week.
The only time I've ever refused a hotdog was at about age 12 when Mrs. Hudon took us on a tour of the Armour plant in Spokane.
At the end, after seeing cows butchered and each subsequent stage where all the parts were processed for different purposes, they offered us each a hotdog.
I said, "No thank you."
I like to watch the CNN weekly feature with Anthony Bourdain where he goes to "Parts Unknown" throughout the world, immerses himself in the culture and dines with his hosts on parts unknown (and pretty scary looking parts too).
Anthony seems to survive.
Like every scientific study that has come down the pike during our lifetimes, I think there might be a touch of overreaction.
On the news in the past couple of days, there's been talk about what pregnant women are supposed to do shortly before they give birth----to fast or not to fast, that is the question.
The last word I heard was that it would be kinda nice for new mothers-to-be to eat a light meal so they've got some energy for that laborious job ahead.
I remember not eating but watching Bill eat a healthy breakfast at Connie's Cafe just a couple of hours before Annie was born a block away at the local hospital.
My mind at the time was not contemplating fasting; instead, with each successive labor pain, I was wishing Bill would hurry up with his eggs and bacon.
Yes, he ate bacon that day and on hundreds of days since. He's doing fine.
And, by gum, that Annie, whenever she comes home, almost always requests her package of Wood's German sausages to take back to Seattle.
As I drink my latte while typing this post, I think about all the bad wraps coffee has endured over the years. Seems the like the most recent study suggested it might be good for us after all.
I've stuck with my coffee through good times and bad.
I've also stuck with the theory that occurs to me every time a new study come out to put the fear of food in us all: nobody ever considers the common denominator in many of these studies: RATS.
Could it be that rats cause cancer??????
If they ever come to that conclusion and announce it on the nightly news while I'm enjoying my steak, I'll definitely take that finding to heart and will never, ever eat one bite of rat!
Just sayin'
Happy Tuesday. Eat your peas. Pretty soon they'll be on the dangerous foods list.
No comments:
Post a Comment