Now, I'm not normally one for complaining about random, stupid stuff (feel free to stop laughing RIGHT THIS DAMN MINUTE), but this has been bugging me for decades and I feel that now's the time to drag it all out in the open. This post is about beef stroganoff (or "stroganov" if you're feeling particularly Russian heritage-ish). So prepare yourselves for a roller coaster of excitement.
You know I love me some Mormons. I have to. I go to church with them every fricking week. But there is one subgroup within the Mormon community that just bugs the crap out of me sometimes. Let me say that I admire a good Mormon who can actually live within his/her means, which is something that escapes many, many of their fellow churchgoers. But what bugs me are the pretentiously cheap Mormons. They also coincidentally happen to be the same Mormons who proudly brag about their pioneer ancestors who heroically swam the Atlantic Ocean with their handcarts clenched between their teeth. You know who I’m talking about. Them. I grew up in a convert family. Our family took every opportunity to make fun of this group and I'm certainly not going to turn my back on family tradition now. On with the beef stroganoff rant.
A quick lesson for all you pioneer-heritage handicapped folks out there: traditional beef stroganoff is made with high quality sirloin steak, egg noodles, a sour cream sauce, and mushrooms (among other things). It is NOT made with 82% lean ground hamburger, rice, and a can of Campbell's cream of mushroom soup. I'll let you soak that in for a minute. Now that the shock of the moment has worn off, allow me to elucidate. If you really want to eat hamburger, rice, and cream of mushroom soup, by all means. It's a nice, cheap dinner and if it's tasty to you, go right ahead. But don't call it beef stroganoff. Because it's not. It's like calling a ham and cheese sandwich "chicken cordon bleu." Surely you see the problem there. And the problem I have personally with this whole mistaken-identity issue is this: I say I am going to/already have made beef stroganoff for my family and you, the snobbishly cheap Mormon, have the gall to look down your prissy nose at me and declare with disgust, "Beef stroganoff? That stuff's disgusting. I don't care for it at all." Well, of course it's disgusting. Or rather, it's disgusting the way YOU make it. I make it properly, which leads to a most exquisitly culinary piece of perfection.
These people's cheap and easy version of a fine dining experience has sullied the good name of what would otherwise be congratulated in every eating circle. Instead, I have yet to meet a Mormon who likes beef stroganoff because in reality they have never experienced what it's supposed to taste like, or that a better and more classic, traditional version is even in existence. Now, you see what happens when you call something something it isn't? YOU MAKE ME LOOK BAD. KNOCK IT OFF. So the next time I talk about making stroganoff for my family and the fact that it was superb (because it was; because I know how to make it), don’t pretend like I’m crazy and lack a discerning palate. BECAUSE I WILL BEAT YOU WITHIN AN INCH OF YOUR CHEAP, LAZY LIFE.
Oh, and speaking of which, I think you left an oxen or two back there in the Atlantic. Better run and fetch 'em.