Hungry

My mom went to the grocery store with my sons and me. After the two grocery carts were filled, I paid, and we got back into the car, my mom said, "You know, I don't remember really buying you kids any groceries. We always had the meat from the cow we butchered, we drank the milk from the farm, and we ate vegetables from our garden ... I guess I bought you Cheerios."

"Well, that's never going to happen," I said. "I'm not that great of a gardener, and these kids never stop eating."

She nodded. She's seen them eat. And seen my weeding. (Or lack thereof.)

What we do have is meat. Tonight Kris' parents were over and we grilled steaks. For those of you who don't live in Michigan, it was snowy, windy, and 22 degrees. I think everyone probably still grills in the winter, right? It's just funny when you have to shovel snow off the grill cover.

They did a taste test tonight. They had two steaks from a steer purchased from the 4-H auction. The other two steaks were from our grass-fed steer. (I didn't eat them. My eating habits have nothing to do with anything - it just would be easier to list the foods I do like rather than the foods I don't like. Yes, that picky of an eater.)

When Kris was doling out the steak, my son said, "This is red."

"Yes, it's medium rare. That's the way I like it," Kris replied.

"Oh," he said. He and his brother then split an entire steak.

No, I won't be growing and freezing all of our food. It would be a full-time job. Luckily, I'm just raising steers and non-picky eaters.