How much I LOATHE raw meat!?
This point goes to OCD. I’m making a honey apple pork loin for dinner (I’ll be posting the recipe later)… but I had to cut the loin in half. Meaning I’m touching two raw halves!
There’s a method here, folks.
It starts with checking my hands and fingers for cuts and scrapes. Because if I even have just one, I’m not touching it with that hand. I will do that shit one handed.
Then I prepare the sink. Hot water with a very little cold. That way I don’t burn the hell out of my hands. But it does have to be on the hotter side. As hot as I can stand it (which is pretty hot these days.)
Then I mess with the meat after fighting with myself for ten minutes on the best way to grab it, move it, touch it. Seriously you’d probably laugh if you saw this process. My hand goes in to touch it, I pull it back, shake my head and get mad that I didn’t do it that time, put my hand back in, pull it away…. It’s frustrating.
Finally I’ll get my hands on it. Do what I need to do. Move it where it needs to go. Wash my hands. Under nails, up to elbows. 3 times.
Season it. Cover it. Look at it. Freak out about all the kinds of meat diseases there are. Wash my hands another three times. Just to be sure. Wash anything and everything that *might* have come in contact with the meat. Wipe up the counters, just because. Wipe down the sink because you know the blood and shit was in there during the washing process. Wash my hands again. Just to be sure. Slather on some sanitizer. And walk away.
Then proceed to spend the rest of the day wondering if I washed my hands well enough or if I missed a spot. This will lead to random hand washing through the day.