Show me someone who likes their meat overcooked and I will show you a picky eater, someone who regards meal times as a set of challenges and insults to be negotiated… The well done steak is not simply a personal foible, like preferring pepperoni pizza to a margarita. It is a mark of a life unlived, of a childish world view retained. Of a distinct fearfulness. Talk to someone who insists on having their meat incinerated and eventually they will mutter about contagion and sickness, as if eating was a game of Russian roulette… Perhaps you still can’t stomach the idea. Maybe the sight of pink flesh makes you heave. In which case you really shouldn’t be eating meat at all. You don’t deserve it.
