Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

I’m not a strict vegetarian, but I do limit the amount of red meat I consume. It’s because my mother, my grandfather, and my great grandfather all died of cancer in various parts of their digestive systems. So, given current medical opinion, it makes sense to eat fish and fowl instead of cow and pig.

But last night I broke down and enjoyed a large, juicy filet mignon complete with sautйed mushrooms and steak sauce.

We hadn’t gone to some exclusive steak restaurant where steak was the piece de resistance on the menu. Nor had we been invited to some friends’ home for food on the grill. No, I had complete control over the menu and I had chosen both the filet mignon and the fresh mushrooms at the supermarket earlier in the day.

I looked forward all afternoon to biting into the succulent meat. I fantasized about its flavor, its melt-in-your mouth tenderness, its concession to decadence on my part. And, even though I overcooked it according to our tastes, it did not disappoint.