London Broil

We have a neighbor who has been making specialty jerky at home.   Every so often we run into them and they are always kind to share their latest batches.   This time the husband had been working on some thick cut jerky made from London broil.  

The jerky was delicious so I sent my neighbor an email telling her how much we’d enjoyed it.   She wrote back and somehow we got into a discussion about London broil.   I told her I thought anything involving London broil must be special and delicious, mostly because of my childhood association with the cut of meat.

Once or twice a year my parents would have a dinner party or special guests over for a meal.   My mother would go to the store and get a London broil.   She’d tell me about marinating the meat and how it made the flavors so much better once it was cooked.     Later, usually the next day, our guests would arrive.   My father would, with some flourish, take the slab of prepared meat out to the grill and do just the right amount of cooking to make sure it was the level of doneness we all wanted.

Then—and this was the fancy part—my parents would plug in the electric knife.    After the meat had been cooked and had rested, my father would take the electric knife and cut thin slices of juice-dripping meat and then serve it at the table.

I remember special dinners at my parent’s home.   That knife was loud, but it always meant something delicious was on the way.  

The Big Boy Update:  My son is great underwater now.   He can swim down a good distance to get something in deeper water.   I didn’t know he knew how to forward flips though.   It turns out he can do not only one, but two forward flips underwater before coming up for breath.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter said she wanted snack when we go to the pool this afternoon.   She had just come from the car, where she chose only to finish half of here banana and then the walk over to the pool when she declined to finish her entire banana popsicle.    So, I told her it wasn’t time for snack and she could swim some.   She persisted she was hungry for another half-hour with various requests for food.   The best one was, “Mom, where is the snack bag?   I want to hug it.”

Fitness Update:  I ran five miles and then ended up walking am additional mile while I figured out an interesting “feature” that was unexpected and somewhat hidden with the interval training app I was using.    But I figured it out.   And I got an extra mile in.