I have always been quite indifferent to the taste of red meat and while the mere mention of a roast beef dinner with all the trimmings brings most to the point of dribbling, the image does not leave me foaming at the mouth.
My issue with red meat stems from a childhood in the Irish countryside where meat was served overcooked and dry; there seemed to be an underlying fear a slight hint of pinkness might see the cow rise from the plate and dander back out to the field. Continue reading