A little cultural lesson: Chicagoans love their Italian Beef.
I make this blanket statement knowing full well that there are plenty of people in Chicago that don't like Italian Beef, that actually don't eat beef and might be offended to be lumped in with people who have a clear disregard for the rights of animals and for their own health.
To them I say 'tough.' Chicagoans love their Italian Beef. And I mean 'Love.'
Recently I enjoyed some catered Italian Beef from a local beef establishment. It came in a big box, lovingly packed full of delicately sliced beef and painstakingly prepared gravy. And it came with instructions on how to "fluff the beef."
If "Fluff the beef" sounds vaguely sexual and even pornographic to you, then know that you are not alone.
And since I have a microphone at my disposal, I went ahead and made an ode to Italian Beef, using excerpts from those very instructions. I submit the following, for your listening and fluffing approval:
P.S. A couple of notes, the words used in this actually appear in the printed instructions. I didn't make anything up. Second, I got the music from a royalty-free music site. Hooray Interwebs!
I find myself with excess jus.
I'm speechless. That is somehow more pornographic than anything I've ever looked at, read, or experienced through a hole in a bathroom wall.
I have my fluffed beef in my hands, now what?
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