Meat
It was important to cut against the grain to make sure every bite was tender. He had let the meat rest. For several days, actually. Eating fresh meat sounds good, but really isn’t ideal. You want some breakdown. Some decay. Let the microorganisms start the process of turning something that was a big chunk of alive into something less.
There had been a grocery store that had a dry-aging locker. Cuts of meat left in there for a month at a time. He remembered staring at it. The price was always a bit high for him, but these days cost was less of an issue.
There had always been a huge disconnect between what he was eating, be it a hamburger or a steak, and where it had come from. There were cows in books, and they said “Moo,” and had bells around their necks, but reconciling that image with the taste had never made much sense. A huge supply chain kept them separated and happy.
Eating was a lot less happy now.
The woman had shown up about a week ago, offering trade goods. He had nothing to offer in exchange for the bits of metal she carried with her, but he invited her to share his fire and a few potatoes he had clawed from the hard earth. In the night, he woke up to her loading his things into her sack.
She didn’t hear him.
