The winter evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways.
You have to eat good! I eat gorgeous food. I eat sushi, I eat meat, I eat steaks. I eat more than you, I'm sure.
I did enjoy cooking, I still do really enjoy cooking - I make a nice salmon dish, and Im a huge meat freak, so I love to bang a few steaks on the grill or pasta. Anything Italian, really.
A meat temperature gauge is a priceless tool. You can get a very inexpensive one at most hardware or sporting goods stores, which will easily help you determine the temperature of your meat so it is not over or undercooked. Pork is normally done at about 160, internal temperature. Steaks are cooked medium rare from 145 to 150. 165, medium. Well done is about 175, internal temperature.
My idea of a good place to shop is Costco - it has these heavily marbled fillet steaks. The idea of eating some wheat thing and washing it down with carrot juice has never appealed to me.
In New York the sky is bluer, and the grass is greener, and the girls are prettier, and the steaks are thicker, and the buildings are higher, and the streets are wider, and the air is finer, than the sky, or the grass, or the girls, or the steaks, or the air of any place else in the world.
I’d been staying at the Holiday Inn with my girlfriend, honestly the most beautiful woman I’d even known, for three days under a phony name, shooting heroin. We made love in the bed, ate steaks at the restaurant, shot up in the john, puked, cried, accused one another, begged of one another, forgave, promised, and carried one another to heaven.
Vanity may be likened to the smooth-skinned and velvet-footed mouse, nibbling about forever in expectation of a crumb; while self-esteem is too apt to take the likeness of the huge butcher's dog, who carries off your steaks, and growls at you as be goes.
