by Patrick McGowan
I am an incredibly frugal person. I pinch every penny I can. Spend money only when it is necessary and never buy frivolous things, but I have one weakness, food. When I walk through the meat section of the grocery store the massive $60 Tomahawk steaks call my name. The package glistens in the white lights of the grocery store and within the shiny transparent package is the cut. A pristinely marbled, bright red meat attached to a bone the length of my forearm that makes me salivate. One time I caved, I had just been paid and I decided that tonight I would cook myself a tomahawk steak. For the first time in my life, I walked through the grocery store without looking at prices and grabbed all my ingredients. Like I was in a trance, my feet guided my brain around the linoleum floors, row after row, section after section. I grabbed red wine, a cabernet of course. I grabbed shallots, garlic, massive russet potatoes, beef stock, rosemary, butter, and Brussels sprouts. My cart was now filled with the glorious rattling ingredients for a glorious dinner I was guided by an external force to the meat aisle. I reached down into the cold case and grabbed the tomahawk steak. I held it for a second and took in the heft of the cut and carefully set the steak gently back into my cart. Now satisfied with my selection of ingredients I went to check out and for the first time in my life I did not look at the price increase each time the scanner beeped, I did not start calculating how much money I would have left in my account and once all the ingredients were scanned and bagged, I did not even look at the final price. I loaded the brown bags back into my cart and I embraced the sweet crinkling sound, I grabbed a hold of the cart and walked out of the store, floating and warm. The afternoon sun hit my face and I knew it was going to be a great night.
The Bolt Magazine 