I’m on a brunch-everyday kick. With Becca. Today, I cut the stalks off the greens.  De-boned them.  It’s as close as I’ll get to being a butcher.  When i was a bartender at the Dive Bar, the neighborhood butcher used to come in during the afternoon, get totally hammered, and then go back to the chopping block.  I had to ask myself whether or not I was responsible for the finger I imagined he would sever. When you’re 23 and you’re hired because you’re cute and the sight of you inspires liquor purchase, who should you protect at the bar?

One afternoon, he brought me a steak he had just cut and seared.  It was so good.

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