#this meat goes to waste

[laski-and-sage]

TJ: Y'know... I understand if you wanna go vegetarian or vegan- Your thing! But if I have my steak on my plate and you gonna beg me not to eat it... what's the use of it?

Pip: Try to... convince you?

TJ:

TJ: The cow is already dead, cooked and right in front of me. If you can bring that thing back to life I'll give you the steak! But... damn! Dead is dead!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm sorry I let down my guard.

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[trainingdummyrabbit]

they should really make the whole dealing with emotions thing easier ithink. maybe include a manual perhaps

[ubersaur]

one weird part of my job is sometimes I get little old ladies with sweet hearts poking through the compost box on the bottom of my cart that tell me I shouldn't be throwing away what I am throwing away. Like yeah, I get it. Food waste sucks! I hate throwing anything away. But everything down there is rotting or bruised or withered or just ugly enough that I know it will sit on the shelf until it is rotting, bruised, and withered. I cannot mark it down, and you will not buy it at full price. "But poor people---!" Poor people deserve food that isn't moldy or bruised or withered or ugly! And afaik our company already donates actually edible food to pantries!

[plantsucc]

feeling this today. feeling like pushing an ice block all over the city as it turns to water and evaporates.

idk what I'm doing again. I'm struggling with my motivation letters for Erasmus universities. for a chance to go study as an exchange student for 3-4 months in a foreign country. and why? idk what to do there, but idk what to do here either. I want to do comics, animation, gamedev, writing, printmaking but I should specialize and focus. but idk which of these is viable or worth the time. nothing seems worth the time. I'm not confident with any of my skills in these things.

I haven't learned enough to show my skills, but I can't access learning more without any proof that I do anything or have learned anything.

I got up at 9am and 10h later, I have nothing to show for it.

[the-acid-pear]

honestly is there even a downside to eating cats aside from social norms?

[star-crossed-lizards]

Lately I’m trying really hard to learn how to like eat sufficiently cuz I never have any appetite but I feel like I’m literally always hungry… like I could eat every hour or two no matter how much or how little I eat it takes the same amount of time. I end up ignoring my “hungry” signals a lot bc I feel hungry right after I eat but if I eat too much I get sleepy. I was thinking of setting timers so I always eat breakfast lunch and dinner but I feel like I need to eat more often than that. But like how much food is reasonable to eat if I’m eating every 2 hours??

[ban-joey]

me when i am listening to the dune audiobook and thinking. how are you okay with the movies. timothee could never be paul

[today-i-am-thinking-about]

types of onions

[teddybeartoji]

zombie apocalypse au where you end up in a settlement and meet a cutiepie satoru. he's lived almost his entire life there – sure, he goes on runs every once in a while but you've been out there. it's different.

right?

the dark bags under your eyes have yet to fade but satoru has never heard you complain. he knows everybody gets a talk when they first come to this place; where they can get help, who they can talk to when if they have any problems. if you can't sleep. or eat. or if you still feel restless. it's understandable that the change from having to fight for your life on a daily basis to not even having to carry a gun with you is hard.

the food tastes weird when you're not starving and drinking water seems like a complete waste when you're not dying of thirst. the bed you sleep on is too soft, the sheets feel like silk and it makes your skin itch. it's off-putting.

and yet, not a single complaint has left your lips. you observe your surroundings while handing out pretty little smiles like they're candy. you say thank you and goodbye, you offer to help out with the chores that weren't even yours to begin with and you're willing to entertain the kids with silly jokes. it's an almost perfect mask.

but you're tense; your eyes are always scanning your environment despite the fact that you've been at the settlement for almost a week now. you stretch your lips to show your gratitude, but satoru sees the way your fist tightens whenever the room is too crowded. the way you pocket smaller snacks when you think that nobody is looking. the way you flinch at a faraway sound of a child's laugh.

satoru finds you utterly intriguing.

people come and go, but you... there's something different about you.

maybe it's the dark, murky look in your eyes whenever you're handling a knife. carving a piece of meat like it's something you do every day; your eyes are the only things that change – you give a small smile to the lady working next to you as a thank you for whatever kind of advice she just gave you. she pats the steak while laughing and satoru doesn't miss the way your lips twitch.

you lick the remnants of the meat that stick to your fingers, the liquid that dribbles down the side of your hand the second she turns around. and satoru can't look away.

but there's no obvious malice.

it's interesting.

satoru is no detective, but he's done his fair share of people looking. what else is there to do when you're locked behind big walls; people are interesting, especially now that the world has ended. they tick faster, they explode bigger. they shiver more, they cry more. the lies have more consequences. it's hard to trust others, it's hard to trust anybody at this point. but satoru's eyes are keen, more so than anyone else's there.

you're not some caged beast, you're no dog on a leash, but you're an animal nonetheless. satoru just doesn't know which one yet. which of the living things that reside in the woods is calm enough to get so close to other people? confident enough. arrogant enough.

which one of them is as curious as you are? as sly? which one of them knows how to hide their sharp teeth behind a warm smile? satoru promises to himself that he'll figure it out, no matter what it takes.

or maybe the 'something' is the way you handle yourself when things go south. you didn't look away when a walker that managed to slip in through the gates sank his teeth into a man's neck. when everybody else was in shock, their eyes set on the gory sight in front of them – you were the first to grab the closest thing resembling a weapon and to deal with it.

blood splattered all over your clean clothes, your hair, your face. but you paid it no mind. this is what you're used to, this is what's normal. taking a knife to the poor wailing man laying on the ground was nothing special either. you kneeled down beside him and looked him in the eyes as you did it.

desperate hands reached out for you as fear settled in his stomach. he grabbed onto the collar of your shirt and pulled you closer, pleas stumbling from his lips like a waterfall. but to you, he was dead already. there's no remorse, there's no guilt. you're not a killer, you're a survivor.

satoru's mind raced as he watched you work while all the other had turned away, their sobs barely reaching his ears. no remorse, no guilt.

he just thought the blood looked beautiful on you.

but you're keen, too.

you try not to pay him too much attention, you try not to look but you feel his curious eyes wherever you go. you hear him laugh and you see his big smiles. he likes to play with the kids and he likes to tease his peers. he seems to know just about everybody, mingling in their lives by acting like a cupid or just indulging in gossip like some high schooler.

but something rotten sprouts deep inside him as well.

there's blood on his hands and you know it the second your gazes meet from across the big dining hall. the corners of his eyes crinkle and his dimples make a show as he gives you a grin, sharp teeth shining right at you. he knows you and you know him.

a survivor always recognizes a survivor.

[ms-demeanor]

Hey also you know that post about getting better at cooking and handling meat and stuff?

Meat is really expensive and it goes bad pretty quickly.

If you're a new cook and you're trying to figure out how to pan-fry something so that it tastes good, might I recommend tofu?

I'm not saying "treat tofu like meat and try to replace all your favorite meat dishes with tofu" (though, I mean, if that sounds good - go for it), I'm saying "it's a lot easier to practice heating a pan and flipping objects in a pan for a meal and seasoning objects in a pan when the objects in the pan cost two dollars instead of ten dollars."

Tofu lasts a lot longer in the fridge than meat does, is easy to season, and you can easily learn how to pan-fry it into a tasty snack (or main course) and only requires a little extra prep. You can also pretend that the tofu is raw meat (the texture isn't dissimilar) and start practicing for things like how to take it out of a package or cut it on a sanitizable surface, etc.

My favorite way to cook tofu is to press extra firm tofu for at least half an hour (you can get a cheap tofu press for around ten dollars, or you can put it between two plates with some books on the top plate - this is that extra prep i was talking about - tofu cooks best if you press the excess water out), then slice a 14oz cake of it into 8 slices. I lay these flat and sprinkle cayenne pepper, mushroom powder, and smoked paprika on all of the slices, then I rub it in and flip the slices and season the other side the same way. I cook it in a frying pan with a thin layer of avocado or olive oil over medium heat, flipping every two minutes until the flat sides start to crisp up a little. Just before the last flip I add about a tablespoon of tamari sauce (you can use soy sauce, I've just got allergies) to the pan, sprinkling it over the tofu so that both sides get a little bit of sauce on them.

I have that with steamed vegetables and with jasmine rice (with two teaspoons of rice wine vinegar per 3 cups of dry rice and 4.5 cups of water). I also make a honey-siracha-mayo sauce that I dip the tofu in.

It's really good. And now I end up eating leftover rice and sauce with fried eggs for lunch at least two days a week and that's also really good.

This has become one of my go-to low spoon foods because it's so easy to make, it's filling, it tastes good to me, and it has become extremely easy for me to keep a stock of tofu in the fridge compared to the effort of keeping un-expired meat in the fridge.

I find that a 14oz pack of tofu feeds two adults for one meal, though I can stretch that to three meals if I'm the only one eating.

It makes a very cheap, filling, easy dinner that I can keep the ingredients around for without too much concern for food waste or anything going bad (the tofu that I get lasts about a month in the fridge and these days I just buy three packs every time I'm at aldi and cycle in new stock - it costs $1.50 per pack)

If you're interested in becoming a better cook, rather than worrying about actual high-risk products like raw chicken that can be seriously dangerous and also cost a fair amount, tofu has a pretty low barrier to entry while also being a good way to learn on a new ingredient that has some similar properties to raw meat.

[sunflowersteves]

Secretly thinking about Hobies/Miguels thigh obsession

Ithe reader’s got THICK thick thighs and he keeps playing w them

Either way,

He loves..

squeezing, pinching them, nipping at them anywhere n anytime he can

laying between your thighs, he’d place his head between your boobs

getting his head between ur thighs , tightening the grip on his head while eating u out

When sitting on his face you’re afraid you’d suffocate him with you thighs “Then I would die a happy man”

oh my god 😫

pairing || miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings || soft!miguel, fluff, SMUT, thigh biting, miguel has a thigh kink, thigh fucking, oral sex (fem receiving), dom x sub, [18+ ONLY]

masterlist

Miguel knew he was obsessed—that much was completely clear as day. He couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing down to your thighs as they jiggled with each step. He couldn't help when his hands tightened around them, unable to fully wrap his large hand around the plush skin. 

It drove him fucking insane. 

“Cariño,” His voice was quiet in concentration, “y’need to stop moving.” 

You squirmed in his lap, legs perched up across his thighs. While you were watching TV, Miguel had a book in one hand, eyes scanning the page. However, for the past ten minutes, Miguel had been kneading into your thighs. He would squeeze them, feel them, and occasionally pinch them. 

His reading glasses slightly slid down his curved nose. His head was turned to you, ruby eyes intense with just the smallest of smirks across his lips. It was so distracting—he and his hands flushed up against your legs.

“Can’t read with you moving all around like that.” He says coolly. His voice was deep and gruff, the eye contact never wavering. You could feel yourself squirm again. Your body felt increasingly hot as his eyes gravitated towards his lap. He watched you move your thighs once more, and he subconsciously licked his lips. 

His large hand sunk deep into the molding flesh, creating the indents of his fingers into your skin. “Miggy—” 

He slapped his book shut and tossed it onto the coffee table. You let out a gasp as he moved so fast you hardly knew what was happening. Miguel had maneuvered himself so your thighs were slung over his shoulder, and he was crouched down so his chest met the couch. 

“Too fucking distracting.” He growls. His hands go to re-grip your thighs once more, spreading them apart. “Your fucking thighs—”

He cuts his own self off as he starts to kiss your thighs. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how much he craved them—how much he thought about them completely enveloping his face. 

He loved when he could kiss them and put his fangs in them. He loved to see the indent of the way his teeth punctured your skin. 

He could feel his cock jump at the sight of them on display for him. He could picture the sweet memory of last night when he had his slick cock in between your thighs and fucked up into them. 

“Fuck, Miguel—” Your hands reach to his hair and pull. He lets out a groan, tongue swirling around your supple skin. 

He unsheathed his fangs and grazed them over the meat of your thighs. He watched as you gasped, head falling back. His hands continued to mold around the flesh, and he groaned, hips bucking into the couch. 

“So fucking thick,” he murmurs. “So fucking good to me, cariño.” 

He goes to kiss your mound, covered by panties and a pair of shorts. You whimpered, watching his glossy lust-filled eyes gaze at the skin before him. 

He lets out one of his claws, hand in the middle of the air, before ripping your shorts in half. “Miguel!” You scold. Another pair of pants and underwear were destroyed. Again. 

He doesn’t waste time, ignoring your scolding. He dips his tongue into your folds and growls at the wetness that sticks to your walls. “Taste—” He licks up to your clit and swirls the swollen bud. “So fucking—” His fingers press deeper into your thighs. “Good.” He gasps. 

Your thighs instinctively get tighter around his head, and he could practically feel his eyes roll in the back of his head. His head backs up as far as possible—wild eyes looking aflame. 

“Baby?” You say, concerned. He looked at you for a bit longer. Your eyes were hazy, your face looking completely fucked out. You had been squirming in his lap for some time, and he relished in the feeling of your body becoming hotter and hotter.

His eyes flashed. “Do it again.” He demands. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Do what?” You were being genuine—not the innocent bratty nature that he was so used to. 

“Put your thighs around my head. Again.” He growled out the last part of the sentence. His cock twitched again at the sight of your thighs wrapped around him. 

Your hand subconsciously lightly tugs on his hair. “B-but, Miguel.” Your eyes flicker away from him. “I’ll crush you.”

He takes a good look at you once more. He then chuckles under his breath before kneading your thighs again. 

“Good. I want you to.” He pressed his lips back onto your slick and pushed a tongue between your folds. “I want you to crush my fucking head, cariño.”

He taps your thigh in an inpatient manner, the other hand teasing your entrance with a finger. “Do I make myself clear?” 

“Y-yes, Miguel.” 

He pleasantly hums. “Now sit back and wrap your thighs around me. Be my good girl.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice. 

[yawnderu]

MORE!! NEET!READER!! I’m obsessed with this it’s so silly and cute <33 I love your writing I can scroll through your page for hours 🍒

“Y'wanna what?” Simon almost chokes on his water at the request, looking down at you with raised eyebrows. He's always been an expressive man, even more so underneath the heavy layers of his balaclava— even more so with his best friend.

“Wank you.” You repeat quietly, slightly nervous hands fidgeting with the edge of your notebook while your head rests on Simon's meaty thigh, shamelessly resting on your knees in front of him the same way you used to do when you were much younger.

Simon's fingers drum against the plastic of his water bottle, eyes narrowing slightly as he tries his best not to laugh at the blunt request, not a single social cue in that little head of yours.

“An' what do I get in return?” Your scrunched up face makes it almost impossible to hold back his laugh, forcing Simon to take a deep breath before his rough, calloused hand goes to caress the length of your hair, subtly pulling you in closer.

“Well, you get wanked...” Simon's hand drifts down to your face, gently cupping your cheek and forcing you to make eye contact, your fingers running along the length of the notebook in your hands as you look up at him expectantly.

Simon's stare isn't half as intimidating when you know how much of a cry baby he used to be as a kid. The corners of your lips tilt up into a small smile as you think about a much younger and innocent version of him— only for the bastard to take the chance to sneak two of his fingers into your mouth, making you recoil back out of pure instinct.

“Tosser.” You try to slap his hand away only for him to grab your wrist out of reflex, shooting a cheeky smirk your way when you look up at him with disbelief. For someone as big as Simon, he's surprisingly gentle, giving you time to protest as he makes your hand run up his thigh, slowly inching towards his already hard cock.

“Go on, then. Give me a proper wank.” Seeing how you don't pull away, Simon wastes no time on lowering the band of his sweatpants, hooking it under his balls to keep in place. You scramble for the notepad on your lap with your free hand, finding a blank page to write about his body's reactions, much to his amusement. Simon doesn't mind being used as an experiment— not when his best friend keeps making him cum.

Your soft hand wraps around his length, feeling it throb beneath your palm as you take notes with your free hand. Simon's dick is as pretty as they come; 21 centimeters of thick meat, green veins running along the shaft, the head of it always seeming to be leaking like a pathetic, broken faucet.

Simon groans the moment your hand starts to move up and down agonizingly slow, a small grin pulling at the corners of your lips the moment his legs part, giving you more room to do whatever you want to him. Your hand goes up to the tip of his cock, rubbing it with your fingers and palm, gathering the precum leaking down only to use it as lube to be able to jerk him off better.

“Fuck.” Simon's head is thrown back, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down the moment your now sticky hand goes back to his shaft, muffled deep grunts and moans leaving his lips. Discipline, precision, and control are what Simon built his entire life on, all broken down by you the moment he can feel your warm breath hitting his cock, your flat tongue licking his tip with curiosity that, if it wasn't for how pent-up Simon is, he wouldn't have minded.

Simon's hand joins yours, guiding the rhythm of the handjob to something he needs— hard and fast, your soft digits caressing the thickening veins every once in a while until he can't take it anymore. Without a warning, Simon shoots ropes of thick, hot cum all over your face and tongue, making you let out a surprised yelp at the sensation and taste, already busy taking new notes as you absentmindedly make him ride off his orgasm, feeling new ropes of more watery cum fill your mouth and overwhelm your senses.

Half-lidded brown eyes focus on what you're writing, resisting the urge to roll his eyes despite his intense orgasm, his hand now softly caressing your cheek, making sure to spread his warm cum all over your cheek.

Slightly salty and too thick, doesn't taste that bad.

[asunflowerana]

𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭

summary: usual grocery day with your husband

with: bokuto koutaro, oikawa tooru, sakusa kyoomi and osamu miya.

n/a: brought this one from my old blog, one of my favorites. I'm thinking about making a part 2 with more hq boys, I personally enjoy imagining them dealing with grocery with me 😂. hope you guys enjoy!

⊛ bokuto koutaro

a child inside a full-grow 190cm male body, that's what he is. The fact that he still pouts whenever you remind him that "no, you can't get inside the cart baby, you won't fit" proves the point. But besides his childish mood, he can turn your time shopping a lot funnier.

he does cart races, searches for lower prices like hunting a treasure, throw his hands in the air when he finds his favorite snacks and cackles at every single brand with a silly name. He's a total dork, but his excitement is so endearing that you cannot help but absorb it. It's actually sweet, the way he lightly takes a domestic duty. He's also helpful, willingly carrying the bags to the car, and storing the groceries later at home.

he yearns to stay close to you, so even if his both hands are grabbing the cart handle, at least some arm-brushing will happen. He'll feel pretty lost if you both need to part ways through the market, but it's cute how he beams when you guys find each other later.

favorite section: breakfast food section (he's addicted to cereal), and meat section.

what you usually hear from him: "babe, can we buy this?"

⊛ oikawa tooru

if there's something Tooru doesn't look forward to, is grocery day. He even tried to wipe it off the fridge calendar a few times before, but you're too good to be fooled. "the Santos already ordered by delivery, why can't we do the same?" and he always uses the neighbor's card to try to convince you, whining like his teenager version would.

but one way or another, you always get him to go. If he's in a bad mood, he'll probably sulk in the beginning, lazily riding the cart while sighing every two minutes 'cause this is a total "waste of time". But as the shopping proceeds, he gets used to it, even forgetting what he was so grumpy about when a product catches his attention. With some subtle kisses and a small treat, you can even get a smile out of him. 

He likes to wrap his arm around your back or keep you close by the waist. Not having you there with him it's the worst thing it could happen, so he needs to make sure you stay by his side (also because he simply likes holding you).

favorite section: checkouts (not a surprise), and cosmetics section (he can spend a good amount of time selecting body products).

what you usually hear from him: "are we done?"; "baby, I need your help. This one, or this one?".

⊛ sakusa kiyoomi

He's the one looking forward to this day. He gets uneasy when things run out in the house, so going shopping is almost necessary for his peace of mind. What he doesn't look forward to, though, is dealing with people at the supermarket. Most precisely, the lines, but let's not talk about it to not ruin the mood.

he's very selective, taking whatever time he has to inspect and be sure of the products, in case it isn't a common choice of yours. He appreciates being aware of what you are consuming, not only for being an athlete but because he cares about your health. He likes to share what he's been learning from the team's nutritionist, but he is not a dictator: if you want to treat yourself to some tasty sweets or snacks, he won't get in the way. He'll even join the party.

He'll offer his arm for you to wrap your own, or hold hands. He's grateful to have your company, so he'll cherish it as much as he can. He's also very protective if the place or the lines are too crowned, keeping you by his side and holding you close with his arm.

favorite section: cleaning products (you have no idea how relieved he gets when he goes there).

what you usually hear from him: "I know you want it. Go ahead, put in the cart"; "tsc, they always put the gloves way back there"; "these stupid lines. Again."

⊛ osamu miya

The king of groceries. He's used to doing this two, or three times a week, and it never gets boring. The experience has made him smarter about where and when it is best to buy, plus he has a good eye when it comes to product quality and price. So yeah, you have almost nothing to worry about when Osamu Miya is your grocery partner. Almost.

He's very chill and helpful while shopping, but you better keep a good eye on the cart: it'll get filled to the brim in one minute. When Osamu likes something, he makes a point of buying as much as he can. Once, he filled almost three entire carts, and half of one was just from rice bags. Someone might think you have a whole volleyball team as a family with the amount of food he wants to take home.

Hands on your back, shoulder, waist, any free space he has to keep you close to him – and he'll keep it there the whole time. Touch is one of his love languages, so there's no way he won't keep in contact with you.

favorite section: fruit and vegetables section, and bakery section (he loves the smell of fresh ingredients).

what you usually hear from him: "sweetheart, just one more. It'll be the last, I promise"; "hope Tsum doesn't visit us today"

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I love your writing and so I just had to request something, a reader x azriel one shot. We know that he doesn't talk that much and is more of a listener, but what if it's exactly different with her. He talks to her a lot and about everything. the IC notices this and is like: what? who is this? Is that really Azriel 😂

Speaks volumes

They were all used to Azriel just being there. They could feel his presence. Could see him quietly eating his meals. Nodding along at times. Opening his mouth only if it was necessary. And even then the conversation might have slipped towards work, Rhys’s assignments. Rarely would you find him indulging in a simple chatter. He didn’t waste his breath on it.

And then you come along. Rhys invited you to dinner one night. You have been a huge help with rebuilding the city. Building shelters and help camps for people who had fled to Velaris after the war. It’s his way of saying thank you. And Azriel had seen you around but that night something clicked within him. His body goes rigid when you’re seated beside him. Not that he hates it. He just wasn’t in the mood to talk tonight and now staying silent would appear rude.

“Sorry, could you maybe…”, Azrie quickly turned towards you. You were subtly pointing to the roasted vegetables on the other side of the table. “Sure, yeah, yeah”, he muttered, reaching out for the bowl. “Thank you, got little arms”, you chuckled. “It’s more that Rhys is a show-off”, Azriel pointed out, waiting for you to load up your plate. “You want some of that too?”, you asked so casually as if sharing food with him was second nature. Azriel swallowed thickly, “Yes, please”. His eyes follow your every move.

“Anything else catches your eye?”, he wasn’t even sure what he was asking about but his mouth seemed to be moving on its own accord. “I don’t usually do fancy dinners so I don’t know what’s…”, “Try this”, Azriel cut in, reaching for another bowl, the smell of spices deliciously hitting your nose. “Mom always made this for us growing up”, he carefully scooped up the soused meats. “Childhood favorite?”, you questioned leaning in to smell the different aromas surrounding your plate. “You could say. I’m more a sweet tooth kind of guy”, he shrugged, moving his fork closer to his mouth.

You nodded at his words, “So, I shall trust my sweet treat with you then”, you tried to suppress a smile. “You want me to pick your dessert?”, it was such a genuine surprise on his face. “Suddenly not sure if you are Mr. Sweet tooth?”, you nudged his side making him roll his eyes. “We’ll let the post-dinner tea do the talking”, he shot you a smug look before turning to his plate. You do the same but not before catching a glimpse of Cassian looking all smug at the other side of the table, you shake your head, mouthing a quick, “What?”, but he just continues to grin. Eyes so full of joy as he glances at his brother.

[petermorwood]

Is "Uh, nope" a frequent US response to lamb?

Or is US lamb somehow different?

This is just a vaguely mystified response to some comments here.

I'm guessing the "G-word" is gamey. I've smelt gamey meat, I don't like it, and Irish lamb definitely isn't that. Also, most people I know don't need to screw up their courage before cooking or eating it.

Mutton, mature sheep-meat, has - or so I've been told, because I've never found it in any local butcher - a much fuller flavour, still not gamey, but more ... robust, pronounced, emphatic, choose your descriptor. It is, after all, a more mature meat.

For terminology reference (though this may not be current any more), "lamb" is up to one year old, "hogget" - remember the farmer's name in "Babe"? - is up to two years old, and "mutton" is over two years.

*****

As I said, I haven't seen mutton anywhere, and haven't HEARD of hogget.

This might be, as I hinted, because terminology has been simplified and all meat from sheep is now "lamb" - and that may answer my own question. Sometimes US lamb has a fuller flavour than, say, Wicklow lamb in Ireland, because sometimes US lamb is hogget or mutton instead.

If so, it restores a possible original meaning to "mutton dressed as lamb". That's now best known as "an older woman dressed inappropriately young", and though the meaning has been around for a long time (this Rowlandson print is dated 1810)...

..."dressing" is also the term for preparing meat for sale.

And THAT makes me wonder if the critical phrase goes beyond fashion into the fine old tradition of adulterating food, and wily butchers transforming elderly sheep into the semblance of younger lamb then charging undiscerning customers accordingly.

I don't know how they might have done it, but if they could then they would. The ways in which 18th-19th century foods were fiddled with is amazing, and more than a bit Yuck.

Or in this case, Ew.

Comments, corrections, criticisms and all the rest are cordially invited.

:->

*****

Side-note; in keeping with the way nicknames get attached to surnames - "Chalky" White, "Dusty" Miller etc. - anyone called Curry usually ended up as "Mutton".

Two brothers at my school had this happen; Tom Curry, the older one, had been "Mutton" for a couple of years, and when his kid brother Will started school he became, of course, "Lamb".

Oh, how we laffed...

*****

ETA: @bellyoftheblast just messaged me this:

It turns out, and I only learned this very recently (I think it's in Hannah Glasse) that "dressed" used to mean "cooked" rather than "prepared for sale". Which would mean "mutton dressed as lamb" would be fast-cooked and thus greasy, unpleasantly tough and decidedly stringy. (Meanwhile I'll never waste good lamb on stew again now that I have a source for mutton -- MUCH better flavour for slow cooking).

Thanks for this snippet! We've got the Prospect Books facsimile of Hannah Glasse 1st ed, so I pulled it down, blew off the dust - it's been a while - and yes indeed, I found the following recipes in just four successive pages:

"To dreſs a Leg of Mutton à la Royale",

"To dreſs a Leg of Mutton to eat like Veniſon",

"To dreſs Mutton the Turkiſh Way"

"To dreſs Veal à la Bourgoiſe"

Mutton dressed (or dreſsed) as Lamb doesn't get mentioned, probably because Mistress Glasse knew better, though that business of Mutton to eat (taste) like Venison is interesting.

It involves cutting the leg of mutton "in the shape of a Haunch of Veniſon" then steeping it in the sheep's blood "for five or six Hours" before wrapping it in layers of buttered paper and roasting it, basted frequently with butter or beef dripping.

Not quite mutton as lamb, but still mutton disguised as something more expensive...