I get squeamish about meat.
I eat it, but I leave cooking, rubbing, deboning, filleting, to others.
I prefer to avoid talking about from whence the meat on my plate came. I don’t mind when I am not eating giving proper credit, but please let me eat in peace.
Craig made some fine barbecue ribs this weekend.
As I started to savour, “Is this pig?”
Yes, no, maybe it’s cow.
COW!!!! Did we die it?
Yes. Well the butcher killed it.
DID THEY CUT THE HEAD OFF?
Yes
How? With a knife?
With a big knife!
No sacred cows in this family!
mightcouldbe 