Two-For-One

 
Today, I cooked butt.

I will cook butt tomorrow, and the
next day, and the next.

It was a two-for-one sale.  And it is not actually butt; it is shoulder.  Pork shoulder.  Only the label says butt.  It must be the prime cut for people who don’t know which end is up.
I guess they found me. 

During the pandemic, I asked my son to keep his eyes open for two-for-one meat sales at the grocery store figuring we could share.  He’s super-busy.  I’m not.  In cave people style, I assigned the muscular, young adult male to find the meat and haul it home.  The old, not-so-muscular-mom will tend the fire and do the cooking.  Last night caveman delivered.  In cavewoman style, I dragged the bag containing the two roasts across the kitchen floor to the refrigerator and heaved it onto the lower shelf.  The bag was as heavy as a whole hog just not as squirmy. 

This morning, I cleared a countertop and got out the super-duper-sized crock pot.  With another day of
100 degree temperatures, I won’t be firing up the oven and letting it run for eight hours.  I carried one of the roasts to the counter and placed it next to the crock pot.  “Houston, we have a problem.”  This is one BIG butt.  No way will it fit into the crock pot.  Not even in Spanx.

Minimalist that I am, I make do.  I don’t own a meat cleaver, so I got out my favorite knife which is actually a tomato knife, and began to saw the hunk of meat in half.  I thought I was doing okay until I hit bone.  In the process I discovered how the butt bone is connected to the shoulder bone:  I may have dislocated my shoulder or at least tore my rotator cuff sawing the butt in half.  

I persevered as cavewomen do.  One surgically removed cheek of the butt roast is now in the crock pot the other back in the refrigerator.  Three cheeks to go.  I should finish by Sunday.  Hopefully, that is enough time to rehab my shoulder.

I guess I will have to establish some two-for-one sale guidelines.  My son is a serious shopper ever on the lookout for bargains.  He is also a powerlifter, so heavy is a relative matter.  Hence my first rule:  don’t buy anything heavier than your relatives.  And if you happen to see a pair of bison--walk away!
​

---