Rather unexpectedly, I found myself in the middle of a discussion about meat. (For clarity’s sake, by “in the middle of” I mean I was listening to.)
Turns out some people take meat very seriously. Especially in some of its less-well-known forms.
The conversation was rolling around on some very shaky skates.
For example, did you know there’s such a thing as Trail bologna? ‘Tis true. There was a long discussion (during which I was absolutely silent) about Trail Bologna and what made trail bologna, well, trail bologna. I (of course) looked this up when I got home and found that none of my friends were correct about the origin of the name. Pay attention:
Trail Bologna is called Trail Bologna because it’s made by Troyer’s Genuine Trail Bologna in the tiny hamlet of Trail in Ohio’s Amish country. (It’s an all-beef ring bologna.)
The conversation then slid sideways, spun the wheel, and landed the topic “meat sweats.” The first time I’d ever heard of the meat sweats was in a Progressive Insurance commercial (you know the one where Flo and all her relatives are sitting around chatting?). I thought it was a made up term. It’s not, although it should be.
“Meat sweats” is the mysterious condition whereby, after ingesting a generous helping of meat, you begin to sweat like a fat man in a cake shop. First identified by competitive eaters, for whom the malady is an occupational hazard, the meat sweats are thought to be caused by the combination of adrenaline and protein.
Speaking of things you don’t know about, have you heard of pudgy pies? Of course not because I am a terrible mother and never told you about them. This is because I had never heard of them until this weird food conversation.
Pudgy pies are not pies. They are grilled sandwiches one makes over a campfire in a special little contraption that is sort of but not exactly unlike a waffle iron.
After almost climbing out of the Pit of Doom in which the conversation found itself, the unthinkable happened and we plunged backward into a discussion of loaves of meat. Like ham loaf. There was a detour while we tried to determine exactly where on an animal one might find the “loaf.” The group decided that not even Jeb the Cowhand would know about that particular part of the anatomy.
With that, the conversation gave up and ordered dessert.