The Prime (Rib In a Bowl) of Miss Jean Brodie

Soup goes in bowls.

Chili goes into bowls, too-- as does guac and salad (though that goes on small plates, too, but if you've got any good quantity of it, you're going to be jonesing for that bowl) and shredded cheese that you will then put on nachos.

Hey, speaking of nachos? Bowl.

You would be hard-pressed to put sour-cream dip and potato chips on a plate. I mean, that's just silly. You put that shit in a bowl, because it's, well, right.

You know what's not right? Putting meat in a bowl.

Oh, America. Sometimes you're so silly-- pretending it's normal to put meat in a bowl. Imagining that society will wantonly accept the fact that it will now be socially acceptable to consume meat with... a spoon?

Meat with a spoon? Get outta my pants! We don't even know each other that well yet!

Wawa, easily the creme de la creme of convenience food purveyors in my neck o' de woods, Mr. Boss-man, is in the throes of trying to convince us that we are not descending down a peg or two on the evolutionary ladder by consuming appreciable quantities of meat that are now coming to you live, via satellite, in bowl format.

There's a very large billboard where I-676 meets I-76 encouraging us to purchase

PRIME RIB: SHORTI (that's a small hoagie to you foreigners) OR BOWL: $3.99.

Prime rib. In a bowl.

Does that seem wrong to you? If it doesn't, maybe you ought to un-follow me, just like former Apron-lover 191, who fucked off yesterday, presumably because s/he is a fan of York Peppermint Patties.

Well, excuuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me!

Now, getting back to beef in a bowl: I admit that I consume some food of questionable virtues. I get it. I've been to all-you-can-eat sushi buffets. I've been to non-ironic smorgasbords in Lancaster County where they serve, much to my genteel vegetarian wife's horror, bacon dressing. I've eaten triple-decker sandwiches. Pork roll. Scrapple. Just as Jesus may have died on the cross for you, more animals than I can count have perished from this earth in the interest of winding up in the southeastern Pennsylvania sewer system after being forcibly ejected from my brittle little body.

You know who's supposed to eat meat out of a bowl?




I mean, that makes sense to me. But... I don't know. Prime rib. People meat? In a bowl? For $3.99?

Something says to me that this is beyond the pale.

"I mean-- who are they kidding?" my wife said to me on the way home from a downtown theatre outing one night, the gargantuan billboard illuminated by the moon and the auxiliary lighting at its base, "that is just the most disgusting thing I've ever seen."

There was a momentary pause as I checked her with my peripheral vision.

"Oh-- yeah. Yeah, that's, um, that is just awful."

Another pause, this one more tense.

"Promise me you will never eat that," Mrs. Apron said.

My eyes flicked momentarily up and to the right. Classic.

"I promise."

That was months ago, and I've kept my promise, even after winning a $10.00 Wawa giftcard at work as part of a "Good Catch Award" for noticing that a deranged elderly patient had turned his oxygen concentrator up from 2 liters per minute to 6, which could have blown his lungs out.

I've spent some of the money on coffee-- a breakfast sandwich. But nothing in a bowl.

Because bowls are what you put soup into. Bowls are for sick people food. Broth and other things that look (and smell vaguely) of piss.

Because the USDA shouldn't be allowing us citizens to consume meat (especially in bowl format) that costs less than a barely fancy large cup of coffee at Starbucks.

Because, at The Prime Rib: The Civilized Steakhouse, real prime rib goes for $45.95, and while that may seem excessive, I'll bet it's fucking worth it. And they ought to know their prime rib, seeing as it's their name.

And I'll bet they put that motherfucker on a plate. A big one.