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Meat, Southern Style

I really thought I was going to take a break from both the Southern Living books and any subject related to meat. I tried. Really. Then this book started to stare at me with its olive eyes and I knew what I had to do. It is a story that needs to be shared. 

I'll keep my intro brief. I've found enough corny intros for each chapter of this book that mine is not required. Redundancy is not necessary.

Let the meat speak for itself. Sometimes less is more and more is less. 

The Meats Cookbook, Southern Living, 1971. This cover doesn't need a title. The olive eyes are the window to its soul. I am connecting on a cosmic level with this roast.
Scored meat, olives, olives, olives, rice. Plus a bottle that's 1/4 empty. Not 3/4 full. I must find pessimism in everything.
It's SO EXCITING to figure out new ways to cook meat. I've run out of ideas a gazillion times and no time have I ever scratched my chin thoughtfully and wished "they" would create a new animal. Luckily I don't have to because Southern Living has done the next best thing, or the same thing that has been replicated in cookbooks by the thousands. Don't tell them that though.
Grilled Dill Steak. Aside from this being marinated in pickle juice, the sliced pickles, the gherkins with tomatoes and the awe inspiring sliced pickle carrot flare, there would be no other way of thinking this is just a steak with pickles on it.

Coach House Platter. Whatever that means. It takes a special and ballsy Southern homemaker to cut individual slices of roast beef, fold them in perfect half and make something out of everything to put in the middle.
Spaghetti Pie. Since color photography is a luxury and this needs to be in color, you all should know by now what's about to happen.
Eh. It still doesn't look good. How it retains its shape remains a mystery.

Ripe Olive Cabbage Loaf. This one NEEDS to be in color.
I'm not going to brag, but I think I nailed it.
Crazy Meatloaf. As in I'm not crazy enough to try to color that.
Stew With Ravioli Dumplings. That takes a lot of effort. Canned ravioli has to be the most disgusting processed food ever. Why? I grew up eating this. I feed it to my kids. And then this happened:
This was possibly a rat. Further analysis showed it to be mold. Either way, Gag Gag Gag gag gag.
I wouldn't have a beef with this roast if it wasn't called Man's Boast-The Roast. I really did add a pun and that was lame. However, I thought I could slip it in because Man's Boast-The Roast negates any lame sentence before.
Beef Wellington. Seen enough of these in all of my cookbooks to know it was popular for decades. But look at those Tomatoes with Horseradish Cream.

Herb and Wine Marinated Steak. I know, I know, this is how steak is SUPPOSED to be eaten. That doesn't mean I want to eat it that rare. I don't want my teeth falling out or it getting stuck in my throat from it being too dry either.
If I had to use pork in everyday meal planning all my life, I would have no reason to live. Not that I hate pork, but I don't want my life to revolve around Everyday Meal Planning with pork. Is that what it's called? Friendly?
Danish Garden Salad. It could look like a sandwich loaf at first glance. This fool is dense too. It contains only 5 packages of frozen brussels sprouts, 8 envelopes of unflavored gelatin, 3 cups of ham, 2 cups of lima beans, 1 cup of bleu cheese, 4 cups of sour cream. I'd go on but my stomach is hurting. I know one of my readers/pinners is going to go ballistic when she sees this! Just when she thought it was safe...
Crushed velvet cloth and sewing. This book is old. I bet there's golden tassels involved in this too.
The flesh of a young calf. That sounds divine. And cruel. I don't eat veal. I have my reasons. The below picture is one of them.
The flesh of a young calf it says.
They want you to think they left at dawn. They want you to think there were only three people who came along, the chest pounding men of the family. They have returned. It's time to take over. You know what to do, woman. Make these manfolk a feast they will remember. It doesn't matter, lady of the house, if you find bear or raccoon difficult to match their feats. It's not your job to worry. Get your ass back in the kitchen and shut your mouth.
Just in case any of you bag a bear while you hunt. Keep this for future reference.
You better make sure you disjoint the squirrels.
Next time you see a raccoon  messing in your trash, shoot the varmint and cook it up.
No really, I don't turn to Spam, corned beef, shit on a shingle, or organ meats if I need to prepare a quick, inexpensive, meat course. I don't have it in me to make those into stunning entrees. Or an engaging entree. I'm going to say that I sincerely suck at cooking because I can't make a feast out of canned lips and peckers molded into the shape of a weiner.
Skewered Pineapple Sandwiches. Is it sad to say that salami and pineapples on bread is the most normal thing I have seen in this entire cookbook?
Lamb Kidneys in Rice Ring. When I think of kidneys, I think both of it being a filtration organ, but also the renal cortex, renal pelvis, medulla, etc. I think of the whole thing and its function. I don't want to eat it or the parsley tail.
Macaroni with Frankfurter Sauce. That sounds like "broke food".
Twin High Boy Krautwiches. If there is "kraut" in a "wich" and salami on it, there's going to be massive GI upset. Man your battlestations! Torpedo turds incoming!
Main Dish Noodle Pudding. Oh how the name has absolutely nothing to do with the picture I am seeing. I see spaghetti and Spam. I guess it's all about what lies beneath.
Good grief, what the f-dash-dash-dash is wrong with the target audience women? Snap my garters! We are talking about mixing meats together? Somebody fetch the smelling salts and fainting couch. I'm about to be overcome by the vapors.
Last year, the word that I hated was "piquant." It's safe to say "congealed" anything is about to become my most hated word of 2013 when it comes to food.
I'm not a Southerner so I've never heard the argument. I shall marinade my meat to my heart's content because as a displaced Midwesterner, I shall not conform. I will adorn my meat and overtake it with everything just to be a damn rebel yankee.
 That was meaty. All I can say is that was meaty. What else is there to say that hasn't already been said?

This post first appeared on Bad And Ugly Of Retro Food, please read the originial post: here

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Meat, Southern Style


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