I waited the whole day for the deliveryman’s call since I was informed that delivery could be anytime during the appointed day, Wednesday. From eight in the morning to nine in the evening there was nothing. Then at half past 10, my phone rang:

Caller: (In an eerie hushed tone) Your delivery is here.

Foodsearcher: (Also in an eerie hushed tone) Where are you?

Caller: Outside your building in the dark alley near the hydrant

Foodsearcher: What should I bring?

Caller: Bring a cooler… and… um… a knife.

Foodsearcher: Do you have all the stuff?

Caller: Yeah…you’ll like it. Especially the white stuff.

Foodsearcher: What white stuff? I didn’t…Okay, I’ll be out in a few.

I put on my jacket and hurried down, with my cooler and knife to meet the deliveryman. I looked around to see if anybody was following me. I turned a corner and walked into the dark alley by the fire pump. The deliveryman was in the truck, his face partially hidden by the shadows the roam at night. Between his lips was an object-a long, thin, stick-like thing: it was a blade of grass. He was munching on its tip, which was already discolored from the acidity of his saliva.

Then he got out of his truck and walked towards the trunk. He raised his arm as if to signal me to come over. I came over.

He looked around the surroundings very cautiously as he began to insert the key to the keyhole of his truck’s compartment. In a single turn, the latch flung open. We were in business.

I saw the goods. My heart raced. My brain, in a split second, commanded my arms to reach for the items as if by automatic reflex. Violently, I grabbed one of the bags but the deliveryman somehow knew what I was about to do and laid his heavy forearms on my shoulders: “Do you have the money,” he asked.

“huh, yes,” I replied without hesitation but somewhat embarrassed.

I handed the deliveryman a short white envelope containing loose cash. He peeked at the envelope and counted silently with his lips, carefully eyeing each piece of green dollars.

“Good,” he whispered.

Then he reached into the compartment and opened a cold steel chest. Sorting carefully the things I ordered and paid for, he then took out several items and quickly handed them over to me.

“Slice the strings with your knife and put the stuff in you cooler,” he commanded. Of course, I obeyed.

So there it was, in my cooler: a block of Swiss cheese wrapped in Zip Lock, raw cow’s milk (The White Stuff)  in a generic non-labeled bottle, two pounds of grass-fed/finished beef for stew also in Zip Lock bags and two pounds of grass-fed/finished ground beef in a fancier but still unlabeled bag.

I paid him $37.00 for the fresh farm food he delivered. I was happy.

And as soon as I entered my apartment, I knew what I was supposed to do: Make hamburgers.

So as soon as I settled in, I took the ground beef and made patties. I noticed how lean this grass-fed  beef was. It was all red.

Then, I fired up the broiler placed the patties on a rack and the shoved it in. After 10 minutes inside a 450-degree broiler, I took the patties out and assembled the sandwich using whole-wheat hamburger buns, farm fresh lettuce, homemade mayo, the just-delivered Swiss cheese, and homemade ketchup.

Finally, it was done: my first grass-fed burger. I took a bite and paid close attention to the taste and texture of the meat.  The meat was a little tough for medium rare, perhaps due to the lack of fats, but the taste was indescribable. Certainly, it was beef. But beef I haven’t had before. It was so tasty I thought it was ‘wonder flesh.’

After the meal, I completed my mental checklist and concluded that the grass-fed burger straight from the farm adorned with fresh and homemade condiments was great despite missing a lot of things. Yes, it didn’t have many things.

It had no grease, no fat, no High Fructose Corn Syrup, no ammonia, and no E-Coli.

I guess I’ll be addicted to the deliveryman’s products after all. I knew it!