Gifted

A dear loved one sent me a package of some nice meats as a belated birthday gift. Naturally I ate some of it immediately, so little do I typically keep in the pantry. As a matter of fact, I'm embarrassed to say that I checked carefully to see whether it was precooked, and just ate it cold. I know that's not right, but it was my choice, and I stand by it. The sausage links were delicious as they were, and I was in no mood to wait for them to be hot.

It was curious that the deliverer of the package opted to place the box underneath our door mat. The box was not small. I would say that it was about the size of a regular shoebox, so I can't believe that the reasoning could have involved hiding it from a potential thief. As there's no other possible motive for not putting it on top of the doormat, I'm just at a loss to explain it. Perhaps next time I will lie in wait to demand an explanation.

Now, apart from the sausage links that I described (which were of a maple variety), there are some other very nice items. Three are one form of bacon or another. Two are American-style bacon, one maple and one plain. They are clearly uncooked, so I let them be. The Canadian bacon appears as if I could eat it as it, but my hunger had been sated. Finally there was a tiny ham, which also looked like it was precooked, but I left it alone as well.

I don't know just when I'll be up for cooking the bacon. There's an excellent chance that it could be a while, not just because it involves effort and mess, but because of that old bugaboo, fear of failure. I don't tend to buy fancy, expensive items, so there's no worry about ruining them with my inept cooking. A fancy gift of food is doubly worrying, because in ruining the bacon I disappoint myself and imagine disappointing the giver. I'll cook them sooner or later, though. Maybe I can split them with someone who knows what they're doing in the kitchen.