So Meaty*

I am a carnivore. I love meat. I adore meat. If it's barbecued, fried, smoked, grilled or broiled, I'll scarf it down before it hits my plate. If it's beef, chicken, fish or even pork, it's bound to be sliding down my gullet before you can identify it. Especially beef ribs. Or brisket. Or fried chicken. Or bacon cheeseburgers. Or halibut, which became my new favorite fish from Alaska.




Did I mention I got married at a barbecue restaurant? And ate ribs in my white lacy wedding dress? Don't worry. I stuffed a napkin in my boobs before tearing into it.

So this Sunday, after driving back from Austin, my husband did the most wonderful thing a husband could do.

He fixed me meat pocket pies.



Not only did he cook, but he insisted I sit on the couch and ponder over the mysteries of Kimora Lee Simmons while the Babies curled up in my lap.


I knew there was a reason I married him.


First, he took the ground beef and sprinkled a package of taco seasoning over it. He added rice, poured in some cholula sauce and poured in the amount of water for both the rice and seasoning. Then he let it simmer while he started on the dough.

Then, he followed Alton Brown's recipe for pocket pies to create the dough. By this point, the Babies were drooling on my leg. I was drooling on their heads waiting in anticipation.



He rolled out little circles of dough on parchment paper, then slathered each one in egg wash and stuffed the meat and rice mixture inside. Then he shoved them in the oven at 350 degrees for thirty minutes.

Now, I know what you're thinking. I can see the thoughts spinning around your brains. Why beef and rice? Why not beef and potatoes and veggies in broth or chicken pot pie or beef and pepperoni in tomato sauce or sausage?



You see, Ben had a dream.

As a child in Louisiana, Ben grew up eating deep fried meat pies stuffed with meat and rice and all sorts of Cajun things. And while these pies weren't deep fried, they were enough to bring a huge smile to a face and a tear to his eye.


He was so delighted with his success that he took me out for peanut butter ice cream. What a guy. No man can compete with meat pies and peanut butter ice cream, ladies. The man has stolen my heart.


However, let's not forget the most important thing. Ben recreated a nostalgic dream of childhood in our humble little kitchen.


And that, Invisible Friends, is a beautiful thing. Almost as beautiful as a meat pie.

*(Did you get the Talk Soup reference?)