In which I sing the praises of beef.

What if I had a million dollars at my disposal? I joke that I would hire someone to cook for us. That would be heavenly. That person could also clean and mow while I do more interesting things like mechanic and and read books and play board games and take photos.

(More likely, if I had a million dollars, I would move to a more-nowhere type location, where trucks that ignore stop signs don’t pass my house. I would not buy a real fur coat. I would buy mac and cheese. But I digress.)

Thing is, I don’t really want a whole ‘nother person around, so it would have to be much more magic than just a person who’s hired to do the stuff.

Mom says I should just teach the girls to cook, so I’m trying that trick instead. Ha. Someone is gonna have to make something on every day’s chore chart, six days a week, all summer.

Food on the prairie … looks a lot like beef, to be honest.

It’s just no-holds awesome to look out the front window and know that those cattle my kid is feeding, those steers that will be 4-H critters or just were selected by Jeremy for future private beef sale — those will be beef in a freezer somewhere, perhaps mine, perhaps the school’s, perhaps in Las Vegas, but no question they’ll land in a freezer belonging to someone I know.

There is just nothing like a freezer that’s all beef except for a bucket or two of ice cream and some hams.

Aside, we have six head out in the pen, and so far a mere three are spoken for, so if you need beef come fall or winter, raise your hand and tell me so.

The only beef products I buy in the store are hot dogs, deli meat, and corned beef, and yes, I have tried corning my own beef, and I’d just as soon buy the store kind. Sometimes I run out of ground beef too soon and then I have to buy that, too.

Aside again, while I like Jeremy’s and August’s and Ivy’s home-raised beef better and am convinced it tastes better, I have nothing against grocery store beef except the big-business practices that get it to most stores. I have some pretty strong opinions, but they don’t stop me from wanting people fed. I don’t super love big feedlots, because I don’t appreciate what they do to the immediate environment, and I really think that small lots are more economically healthy. I don’t super love big packing houses because I think a little more sale barn and a little less contractual control over industry pricing would be an advantage for everyone. But, despite all its failings (much like most of humanity’s ideas), the system works. It gets people fed. And while money is not my motive, it is still important to have, and it would be nice if the cow-calf guys got more out of the system than the system currently pays.

Aside the third, if we didn’t raise the beef, could we afford the beef? Well, I’m not sure. I don’t money well. Maybe if we didn’t raise the beef we’d make more money. I dunno. And I’m not likely to push the pencil to figure it out.

For a lot of people on the prairie, food also looks like gardens. I’m the world’s worst gardener, but maybe today we will get some green beans and cucumbers in the ground. I’m a couple weeks behind. This is normal, but minor compared to later in the season when typically I fail to pick what I’ve grown because I’m too busy with work or softball or mowing or cooking food. I don’t like food waste and am always willing to take home the pot luck leftovers, so I recognize this insanity for what it is — a glaring example of food waste.

Luckily for me, there are a number of farmers in the area who plant sweet corn on the edge of a field and don’t mind sharing. I appreciate that so much. I don’t want to garden on a large scale, and corn is so much better from a field than from a can.

Anyway, yesterday I had Ivy peel carrots and assist with meatloaf, and today I walked a very distracted Sadie through tuna noodle casserole.

And for a final aside, man cannot live on beef alone. If it’s not a decree, it oughta be. There’s a pig in the other freezer, too, this one home-raised in Harlan County. If you need pork, I can hook you up, either with one of our Phelps County 4-H pigs, or through my cousins’ enterprise. Let me know.

Will my girls ever learn to actually cook? Eh, maybe. One obstacle is that they’re learning from me. Plus, they’re much more into baking things right now, like gingersnaps, or the giant cookie in the ATK Kids cookbook.

Meanwhile, it’s a mostly mom job anyway. I’m not big on gender roles, but nonetheless that is how our household works best.

Suffice it to say it’s a good thing we live 12 miles from anywhere so I can’t just go get supper somewhere without a plan and some time. It’s actually easier to shop and cook to eat — path of least resistance. (Plus if you don’t money especially well (pick me!), eating at home is just plain smart.)

So, what’s for supper at your house? I think we’ll have flat irons on the Traeger. Because beef: It’s what’s for dinner.