Bad taste | Salon Life:
Jean Sawyer took a single, small, thin steak from her deep freeze. To this day, we are not sure what it was; before we had the chance to examine it, we beheld a fascinating food-prep technique. Sawyer ran tap water onto a grayish washcloth she took from next to the sink. She wrung it out and wrapped it around the steak. The steak was then placed in the oven, where it cooked for 40 minutes. That was to be dinner for us. For her and Dumbo and the kids, she grabbed a box of Hamburger Helper and started cooking that in a skillet on the stovetop.
A dozen hungry eyes watched as steak à la washcloth was unwrapped for the esteemed guests. Feeling a little like characters in "Suddenly, Last Summer," we sawed at the meat and masticated as best we could. "Is it good?" came the plaintive whine of the youngest kid, who had already wolfed down his allotted Hamburger Helper.
"Have some," Michael said, cutting a hunk of the meat and reaching out to plunk it on the kid's plate.
Jean Sawyer's red-nailed hand swept in like a falcon coming down on prey. "Leave it be," she yelled. "Steak is for company. Where's your manners?"