But was it so silly after all? And as to being unpleasant, well, bollo meat commanded enormous prices in the market and, from everything she'd ever heard, the bollo was the very reverse of a fastidious feeder. Even pigs certainly weren't dainty in their eating habits. If she parboiled it in several waters and then braised it slowly, with a hint of ginger in the sauce.... Well, after all, why not?
Amy, the modeling knife in her hand, went into the hothouse again....
... "Gee, Aunt Amy, this meat's good," Robert said. He was talking with his mouth full. "I've eaten indigenous chow on three planets—four, if you call the stuff they serve you on Uranus food—and it's my opinion that there isn't a better cook anywhere in the system than you. Fact. How do you do it, anyhow?"
Amy Dinsmore lowered her eyes. She could feel herself blushing through her cosmi-lac. "Oh ... thank you, Robert."
"She sure is, Bob," Hjalmar Bjornson said expansively. "That gravy! She's the best cook on Terra all the time, but when you're in port she gets sort of inspired."
"What kind of meat is this, though, Amy? And could I have some more?"
"Of course," Amy said. She refilled Hjamar's plate. "It's something new I found in the big auto-market in the city," she said vaguely.
"By the way, Aunt Amy," Bob said, laying down his fork, "after I sent you that plant I heard it was supposed to be carnivorous. I forgot to mention it in my last 'gram. You didn't get into any trouble with it, did you?"
"No, it died," Amy said smoothly. "I had to throw it out. Too bad." She brightened. "Pass your plate, Robert dear," she said.