I’m now two days or so into my short rib project. After a 24 hour marinade, an initial 3 hour braise, and an overnight rest in the cooking liquid, the ribs were ready for their final prep stage. I trimmed the meat off the bones to make them all uniform and pretty, I skimmed the fat off the sauce so it wouldn’t bee too greasy. As I stacked the bones in a bowl, my daughter watched me. I told her the ribs were from a cow. She said: “That’s not very nice to the cow.” I explained that the only reason cows existed was for us to eat them. “Well, that’s not very nice.” I told her it wasn’t about nice or not nice. That people eat meat. Like certain dinosaurs eat meat. “Like a T Rex she said,” excited. Yes, you’re a carnivore like a T Rex I said. “I’m a hunter!” she said. You could be if you wanted to I said. Her two year old brother chimed in, as he does these days: “I’m a hunter, too!”
—Hugh
