Slice against the Grain

Slice against the grain when you have this cut of meat. You have to select the correct knife, and you have to sharpen it, too. You know it is more dangerous to use a dull knife than a sharp one. Hold the steel steady and run the knife's edge at a twenty-degree angle over the surface. We used to have a whetstone, and it sharpened blades like a dream. But we lost it when we moved into this God-forsaken apartment. But I shouldn't say things like that. The apartment is nice. I wish the landlord would let us paint the walls any other color than mustard yellow, but it is what it is. The curtains brighten the room, and so do the plants my sister bought us.

You were too young to remember the house we had in West Virginia. The weather there is nice. Nicer than here. The snow hasn't let up for days. I hate the snow. Especially in the cities. It gets trampled down and turns the color of ash. It hides the pitfalls in the sidewalks and soaks through your shoes. Snow in Colorado is like a blanket of crystals. In New York, it turns into balls of cigarette butts and garbage in the gutters and on the sidewalks.

You know better than to smoke, don't you? That's what killed your grandmother. She smoked cigarettes. I broke the habit mostly. I only need one when your dad comes home. Kicking that habit may be the death of you if you ever start. Habits are hard to break. Your uncle died trying to get off the alcohol, but you knew that. But he was a Catholic. I hope he was good enough besides the alcohol to make it into heaven. You've always been a good girl; better than the rest of us. You go to school in the mornings, and you take care of your mama at night. I wish you didn't have to.

Someday soon you'll be on your own. Maybe then you will do better than we have. You won't smoke like grandma and your mama, you won't drink like Uncle Buck and your daddy, you won't be on the streets like Ben. You'll be a good girl with a good job, and you'll find a good guy.

Cut against the grain.