Sandra has complained about the lack of mystery-meat-related posts over the last couple of days. I apologise to mystery meat fans around the world – the public has a right to know!
Thursday’s mystery meat was:
Or ‘Also Brown’ I suppose. Turned out to be Goulash. Which is all fine and dandy, but we have a tendency to eat most of the actual bits of steak out of the stuff when we have it the first time, leaving behind little more than sauce with the occasional lump. Mmm, lumps. Most of which seem to end up on the plate of She Who Must Snaffle All The Best Bits When Stuart Isn’t Looking.
Friday’s mystery meat was:
Not Mystery Meat at all – it was chicken fresh from the shops. Jointed at home into its constituent bits and secreted into the spaces recently cleared by the consumption of mystery meat. BUT Friday’s chicken breasts were wrapped with streaky bacon and stuffed with duxelle, which did come from the land of mystery meatdom. I thought it was some leftover bolognaise when I defrosted it for lunch yesterday. Not quite the same thing.