Where’s the Beef?
Could there ever really be a river of beef?
———- from Nick Webb of North Brunswick, NJ
Just west of Omaha, along a two lane blacktop that stretches westward to the Rockies, there is a small stream that is a dry gulch for most of the year. Sometime between Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day, a miraculous event occurs. Seemingly overnight, the gulch is filled to the brim with beef and beef by products. Chuck steaks, rib eye, sirloin tip and assorted chunks of tripe ooze towards the ocean with a lazy, bubbling motion. You won’t find it on any map, but the odor is unmistakable. I suppose it depends which side of the fence you straddle, farmer or rancher, but I guarantee one visit will make you a vegetarian for life.
Just west of Omaha, along a two lane blacktop that stretches westward to the Rockies, there is a small stream that is a dry gulch for most of the year. Sometime between Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day, a miraculous event occurs. Seemingly overnight, the gulch is filled to the brim with beef and beef by products. Chuck steaks, rib eye, sirloin tip and assorted chunks of tripe ooze towards the ocean with a lazy, bubbling motion. You won’t find it on any map, but the odor is unmistakable. I suppose it depends which side of the fence you straddle, farmer or rancher, but I guarantee one visit will make you a vegetarian for life. 