“What do you mean, you don’t know which meat to choose?”
“Yes, there are loads of trays on the shelf, I don’t know which ones to choose,” I replied, turning over one of them, in case there are indications on the back. Unfortunately for me, the white polystyrene was blank of all information.
I had set aside the carpaccio slices, although I suspected that it was not suitable for a barbecue, for the rest, the names of the pieces of meat made as much sense to me as a list of dishes in an Asian restaurant.
“You’re American, aren’t you supposed to be the kings of the barbecue?”
“If you grew up on a ranch in Texas, certainly not when you were raised in a downtown Chicago apartment with no balcony.”
Vincent let out a long annoyed sigh. I imagined him in his small office, running his hand thro
