Every once in a while, Dad would go to the local Stock Auction barn to buy a steer to feed the Berglund family. The animal be taken to the local butcher where the animal was butchered, cut up into roasts, steaks and hamburger. The organ meat such as tongue or heart was brought home.
I came home one day and there, displayed on a dinner plate was a great big gray thing. I asked WHAT was that? Tongue. Ugh.
Mom very efficiently boiled it, peeled it, ground it up in the meat grinder, ground in a onion, added salt, pepper and mayonnaise. This was then patted into a Tupperware container and got used up as sandwich spread. I was sworn to secrecy not to blab to the kids what was in that sandwich. It was actually quite tasty.
The brains were treasured by the folks. Breaded and fried. Alleged to taste like chicken. Yeah, an icky, soft, tasteless chicken. We all turned our noses up at the dish and the folks got to keep it to themselves.
The liver was done up sliced and baked under a layer of onions until the meat was sufficiently tough. Dad loved it God bless him. The rest of us sullenly ate our supper because there was no dessert unless we cleaned our (ack) plate. This was universally viewed as childhood food abuse.
I learned in college that I am a non-taster. The class was given strips of litmus paper, if you didn't taste anything that meant you were a non-taster. Hence I should love liver. I have had liver that was a tasty dish once. It was a hunting trip to the ranch in Mendocino county. We had fresh buck liver sliced gently very briefly seared in a cast iron skillet, for breakfast, it was delicious.
The roasts were baked in the oven to fairly solid extremely well doneness. The meat was sliced, a little thin gravy dribbled over and the usual assortment of side dishes.
For some reason there was ALWAYS left over roast. This was sliced up a bit more, warmed up in the skillet, sliced onion added, potatoes sliced up as well. This was known as thousand mile stew. The stew was actually better than the roast.
The steaks were fried until done, DONE, CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT !! We didn't know any better. Dad grew up eating beefsteak for breakfast, either fried or cooked in a pressure cooker. Mom ate left over cornmeal mush sliced and fried for breakfast.
Hamburger got used up as hamburgers, meatloaf, Sloppy Joe, chili and spaghetti sauce. The hamburger were NEVER grilled outside on a BBQ. Never. Dad was never tempted to go caveman and wave meat over grill, beat on chest. The first time I ever saw an outdoors grill was some neighbors who had cooked something and we kids wandered over. I remember asking what the were cooking as I looked at the glowing charcoal. Strawberries, want one? Um, nope.
Let me address the latter. Mom would go get a package of ground hamburger from the locker. She would fry up the meat, add a can of tomato paste, the recommended amount of water and a packet of spaghetti sauce spices. This was allowed to simmer until the spaghetti was cooked well past el dente then drained and mixed into the pan. This was dished up. The option of using parmesan came in one of those green cans that smelled like dirty socks.
Fast forward to about three weeks ago. Husband obligingly picked up a package of ground turkey. I intended to make meatballs. My mis enplace consisted of a large onion, small jar of roasted chopped garlic, one egg. salt, pepper, Thyme, Oregano, Italian spice breadcrumbs.
I chopped, sliced, mixed, shaped turkey meatballs and roasted them in the oven. When they were cooled they were slipped into a zip lock baggie and popped in the freezer.
Couple days ago I decided it was time to make spaghetti and meatballs. Everything went well. I dished up a small bowl of the same, chomp, chomp Hmmm. what does this not taste so good? Hoick Patooey! Husband wandered into the kitchen, I warned him the meatballs tasted awful. He got some and agreed. He suggested saving the pasta, pitch the meatballs. So I did.
I can hear Virginia shrieking in my ear to FOLLOW THE RECIPE! Ignoring that advice as usual, I believe I should have left out the thyme and oregano, added about a half cup of cornmeal as the meatballs were too soft. I should also have purchased one of the lovely French loaves and slathered butter and garlic on. Yummy!! I still like the idea of having cooked frozen meatballs available for a sammwich. Uh huh.
I came home one day and there, displayed on a dinner plate was a great big gray thing. I asked WHAT was that? Tongue. Ugh.
Mom very efficiently boiled it, peeled it, ground it up in the meat grinder, ground in a onion, added salt, pepper and mayonnaise. This was then patted into a Tupperware container and got used up as sandwich spread. I was sworn to secrecy not to blab to the kids what was in that sandwich. It was actually quite tasty.
The brains were treasured by the folks. Breaded and fried. Alleged to taste like chicken. Yeah, an icky, soft, tasteless chicken. We all turned our noses up at the dish and the folks got to keep it to themselves.
The liver was done up sliced and baked under a layer of onions until the meat was sufficiently tough. Dad loved it God bless him. The rest of us sullenly ate our supper because there was no dessert unless we cleaned our (ack) plate. This was universally viewed as childhood food abuse.
I learned in college that I am a non-taster. The class was given strips of litmus paper, if you didn't taste anything that meant you were a non-taster. Hence I should love liver. I have had liver that was a tasty dish once. It was a hunting trip to the ranch in Mendocino county. We had fresh buck liver sliced gently very briefly seared in a cast iron skillet, for breakfast, it was delicious.
The roasts were baked in the oven to fairly solid extremely well doneness. The meat was sliced, a little thin gravy dribbled over and the usual assortment of side dishes.
For some reason there was ALWAYS left over roast. This was sliced up a bit more, warmed up in the skillet, sliced onion added, potatoes sliced up as well. This was known as thousand mile stew. The stew was actually better than the roast.
The steaks were fried until done, DONE, CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT !! We didn't know any better. Dad grew up eating beefsteak for breakfast, either fried or cooked in a pressure cooker. Mom ate left over cornmeal mush sliced and fried for breakfast.
Hamburger got used up as hamburgers, meatloaf, Sloppy Joe, chili and spaghetti sauce. The hamburger were NEVER grilled outside on a BBQ. Never. Dad was never tempted to go caveman and wave meat over grill, beat on chest. The first time I ever saw an outdoors grill was some neighbors who had cooked something and we kids wandered over. I remember asking what the were cooking as I looked at the glowing charcoal. Strawberries, want one? Um, nope.
Let me address the latter. Mom would go get a package of ground hamburger from the locker. She would fry up the meat, add a can of tomato paste, the recommended amount of water and a packet of spaghetti sauce spices. This was allowed to simmer until the spaghetti was cooked well past el dente then drained and mixed into the pan. This was dished up. The option of using parmesan came in one of those green cans that smelled like dirty socks.
Fast forward to about three weeks ago. Husband obligingly picked up a package of ground turkey. I intended to make meatballs. My mis enplace consisted of a large onion, small jar of roasted chopped garlic, one egg. salt, pepper, Thyme, Oregano, Italian spice breadcrumbs.
I chopped, sliced, mixed, shaped turkey meatballs and roasted them in the oven. When they were cooled they were slipped into a zip lock baggie and popped in the freezer.
Couple days ago I decided it was time to make spaghetti and meatballs. Everything went well. I dished up a small bowl of the same, chomp, chomp Hmmm. what does this not taste so good? Hoick Patooey! Husband wandered into the kitchen, I warned him the meatballs tasted awful. He got some and agreed. He suggested saving the pasta, pitch the meatballs. So I did.
I can hear Virginia shrieking in my ear to FOLLOW THE RECIPE! Ignoring that advice as usual, I believe I should have left out the thyme and oregano, added about a half cup of cornmeal as the meatballs were too soft. I should also have purchased one of the lovely French loaves and slathered butter and garlic on. Yummy!! I still like the idea of having cooked frozen meatballs available for a sammwich. Uh huh.
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