You know you're primal when you see marrow bones at the grocery 5 minutes from your house and squeal like a small child.
- My grandmother (and all her generation) kept a jar of bacon grease on the stove all the time. I do the same. It takes months for good fat to go bad at room temp, even in the summer in GA.
- People used to preserve things in fat, like duck confit & pemmican. Yumyumyumyumyumyum. (My farmer still does!)
- You just cooked everything in that base of that pan to an extremely high temperature.
- On our first long family trip driving cross-country & hitting national parks, we cooked on a camp stove with cast iron every morning (& eventually, dinner, too). We discovered that if we never washed the pan, it got more and more seasoned. It's hard to do otherwise at home now that we know we don't have to!
- We've been doing it at home for four years now. Not dead yet.
We rarely wash our iron. My mother would keel over just from knowing that. Even my bacon-grease grandma would have. She was from the Hygiene Generation and washed her dishes in Clorox. !!
5'4" 39yo mother to five sweeties & married to their AMAZING DaddyGrok
Current Weight: 175lb__________________________________Goal: 135lb
Deadlift: 240lb________________________________________Back Squat: 165lb
Bench: 130lb__________________________________________Pre ss: 85lb
***Winning a 20-year war against binge eating disorder***
You have your apple and banana with peanut butter because it's there and you ran out of almond butter, but it tastes gross.
Current interests - Starting Strength (reading it very slowly)
You go for an hour long walk outside in 30 degree weather in jeans and a t-shirt and don't even realize you forgot your jacket until you reach your door at the end of it.
You play fetch/ ball with your dog (fed grain free), the neighbor kids, and their dog, and realize you last longer than all of 'em.
Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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