bison chunks

It is only natural to presume that the best bread in the whole world would make the best croutons ever to grace the plates of mankind. Was there ever any doubt? I read in a book that croutons must always be torn and never cut. I don't get that. I wished for the chef to expand on the reasoning for that but it was delivered as simple edict and for that I then mentally file it under subcategory "opinion," category "prick."

Chunks of Maytag blue cheese in regular homemade mayonnaise. The combination is not that great. Needs work. I must develop a buttermilk cream dressing and add the Maytag to that.

Chunks of Bison. Marketed as buffalo. Hang on, I feel a laughing fit coming on.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Ooooh, that wasn't so bad. How many times do I have to say this? Buffalo is buffalo and bison is bison and ne'er the twixt shall twain the meat. Or something. Now STOP CALLING BISON BUFFALO, you loons.  That is something told to me in the third grade and it stuck.  Perhaps it was the way the third grade teacher pinched my chin and snapped my tender pencil neck forcing me to gaze into and to become mesmerized by the black voids that were the dead eyes of a living looming shark as she  screamed in her shrill trademarked shriek of a creaking ancient harridan that had lost all patience with little kids lo untold decades past, "GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK POINTED HEAD, YOU STUPID LITTLE SHIT."

The store sold three forms of buffalo bison; rib-eye steaks for $1,000,000.00 per LB, ground, and stew chunks both for something like $6.00 LB. I forget exactly, but they were the same price. I go "I'll have one pound of ground and one pound of stew. NO WAIT! I'll take two pounds of chunks for stew and grind it myself." This opened an area of conversation about grinding at home and mixing meats, sausages, etc. I find the people behind the counters are usually eagerly conversant except sometimes you get a dud. Like that cheese lady was. This is my new thing: grind all my own meats. Mostly because it's fun. 

A few chunks were reserved, dusted with seasoned flour and fried in fat. For lunch. They were mighty fine eat'n, they sure were. The rest was ground, seasoned, oiled, as bison meat fat content is negligible, and formed into patties for later. 

The guy back at the store told me they were not allowed to mix ground meats. I said, "Maybe there's a law." He said, "Maybe. But  come to think of it, he didn't think so because something something something. Another thought flew through my head at that moment and I missed his reasoning, but he left me with the impression that it was merely store policy, and that mixing ground meats is actually a great idea, like gyros. That's it. That was his reason -- gyros. And that opened up a whole 'nuther area of conversation but by then other customers began to gather and I could tell by their surly grimaces they wished I would just piss right along. So I did.