Today is Australia Day, a time for my countrymen to gather around meat and reflect on all things Aussie.
These lappet-faced vultures have their little one tucked under the front portion of their feathers, having either just come from, or preparing to head out to gather fresh meat.
In a now annual tradition, today we gather together, slap meat into a sliced piece of bread, and stick it in our mouths.
The Bancrofts of Southampton (no relation to the Bancrofts of Dow Jones) may inhabit rarefied territory, but shopping for a cookout on a sunny summer Sunday they are like everybody: Is there any more quintessentially American experience than the opportunity to gather outside, throw meat (and maybe a representative from the vegetable family) on the grill, and eat under the sky as dusk falls?
Whalers more often considered them a nuisance, however, as they would gather to scavenge meat from the whalers' catch.
Instead, I used a pillow-soft sheet of doughy white lavash bread to gather up the delectable meat, and ate it with tomato-and-cucumber shepherd's salad, and thick, lemony buffalo-milk yogurt.
Cook the meat, or gather more feathers.
In a school parking lot, he stood in a pouring rain, coatless, and thanked the several dozen customers who had gathered for their meat pickups.
We've visited stores from coast to coast with our mascot, Joe the Pig, and stood before Trader Joe's asking for drug-free meat, gathered over a half million signatures to the company and sent tens of thousands of emails and postcards to their headquarters.
Gather a handful of the meat and flatten it in the hand much like a pancake, place the egg on top and cover with the meat.
