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when I was a small child, my grandmother, fearing I wasn't getting enough nutrients, used to collect all the juice from the draining board when she'd cook a roast, put it in a double shot glass, and give it to me to drink. heavenly.that sounds wonderful
My roommate couldn't sit across the table form me on those days, because of the crazed ferocity with which I devoured the meat with my bare hands.hells yes!
Coming home drunk when I lived in Williamsburg, there was a mexican 24 hour roast chicken place right outside my subway stop, and for $3, I'd get a half a chicken and just tear into it on my walk, flinging bones as I went. By the time I arrived at home 4 blocks later, the thing would be devoured, and I'd be greasy-faced and happy.
God.... I love meat.