“Can you throw in some big chunks of beef?”
Peering over my shoulder as I’m stirring aromatic stuff in a massive soup pot, Mr. Fixit expressed his concern.
“Big chunks?” I ask. “What am I, feeding lions at the zoo?”
In truth, it’s just a cow-starved husband who could give a rat’s patootie about whole grains or antioxidants. The only thing he’s anti is kale.
The recent blast of rainy weather has increased his bodily craving for the kind of grub they serve at roadside diners called “Al’s.” W...