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(The King macks down)
It is well-known that, during his life, Elvis was notorious for the ecstatic screams he provoked, in a variety of public and private situations.
It was fun to get a piece of that action yesterday, during the Link’s commemorative dinner for Elvis’ birthday. The menu included not only culinary homages (meatloaf, fried peanut-butter-banana sandwiches with Tupelo honey, extravagant use of bacon throughout), but also the A-list cuts from the Spanish Oak Ranches steer that recently graced us with its grass-fed goodness.
The shouts and screams that I witnessed came from guests in the thrall of six-ounce filet mignons wrapped in house-cured Blue Butt pork bacon, paired with Weiser’s Farms’ heirloom potatoes and bok choy from the Seeds @ City College garden. Cruising past their table, I was stopped by one enthusiastic gentleman who, after considerately swallowing the morsel he was savoring, said,
“Let’s get you in on this conversation. Why is it that grass-fed beef tastes SO MUCH BETTER than any other kind of beef?”
I considered my answer, but he had not finished.
“I mean,” he said, “I’ve been grilling my @ss off for years! And this guy”–here he pointed to his friend, who blushed modestly at the credit–”introduced me to you guys and the whole grass-fed thing, and it changed my life. No, really,” he insisted, “you changed my life! Because it’s not about some theoretical, esoteric, ideological…” His voice lilted, his arms began to wave like a prophet’s.
His lovely companion laid a restraining hand on his arm, saying gently, “Reel it back in.”
But I was feeling his vibe, and told him so.
“Just–my question is–” he said, “why don’t more people know about this?”
“The times are a-changin,” I quoted. “And maybe in a few years, for our children’s children, it won’t be theoretical. It’ll just be normal.”
He held out a fist for me to pound. “That’s right,” he said. “Keep the faith.”
Over the top, you might call it. Sure. But when was the last time you connected ideologies over a piece of meat?