A: When they are eating bison, of course.
Let me begin by saying that my friends tend to marry well. Tonight's omnivorian frenzy was a direct result of two of these marriages.
Enter Steve. Steve is one of those people who is always coming up with the weirdest stuff imaginable. He runs his cars off salvaged vegetable oil, forages for food (mostly fishing) and has a knack for attracting wealth in unexpected packages. Like plain white plastic ones marked as "bison" with the name of a Nebraska processing plant printed on them.
A couple weeks ago Steve was bragging about this latest score. A friend of his went west with a bow and arrow and a U-Haul, dropped a bison, had it "processed," and brought it home. All thousand odd pounds of it. When I lived in Colorado I saw a lot of pick-up trucks with elk in the back - feet in the air and dead, dead, dead. I never saw a bison in a pick-up truck. Probably because as soon as you throw a bison in the back of your pick-up truck, all the tires explode.
Recently I've been thinking that if I did eat more meat, it would be the kind of meat that had a happy life in the wilderness until one day it looked up and said "my that's a handsome orange vest you're wear....." So I asked Steve if his friend could spare some and a few days later I was in receipt of my own plain white plastic package with about 5 pounds of ground bison.
Enter Tony. Tony is the chef who turned us onto sardines. That's onto sardines, not into sardines. I ran into Tony and his lovely artist wife Kate at the broadcast of the inauguration. They're very hip, those people. They go places we go.
Knowing Tony to be well-versed in such things, I told him about the bison and asked if he knew of a shepherds pie recipe. He was kind enough to not point out that in order to make a shepherds pie you need a shep. I don't know what you call the pie I wanted to make because I don't know what you call someone who herds bison. Suicidal?
The end of the recipe said to dig it, dig it the most. And we did. I made a huge pan of bisherds pie, thinking we would eat it all week, but forgot who we were talking about here. Forks were flying and people kept disappearing into the kitchen to "put the water on" or "feed the goldfish." We don't have a goldfish. We also don't have leftovers.
We dug it the most. Thank you, bow and arrow dude. And thank YOU, friends who married well.
This is what we did not eat. Just to be clear.