Okay, I officially love you. That is all.

/me backs slowly away from Skot

/me runs like hell

I'll marry you. I love CORNED BEEF!

as soon as i saw "CORNED BEEF" i puked. that's gross.

The store is Market House Meats. That little strip of buildings is basically the only standing remnant of the neighborhood that once stood where I-5 stands now.

Some restaurants in town feature "Market House Corned Beef" on their menus - which I think is a code for saying "We're Old Seattle."

I once had a conversation with the proprietor. He took over from his dad, but I can't recall how long they've been there. Since the War, I think, meaning WW2.

look! A Stranger story:

MARKET HOUSE MEATS: A Little at a Time

Ah! There it is, 1948. I think that Paul Dorpat has a little something on the vanished freeway nabe (The other fragment is the strip south of the Denny overpass, Graceland included, skipping REI and PEMCO, until the street goes down hill ). Apparently it was full of flophouses and dive bars, but that's just what the freeway builders would say, isn't it?

I've never really understood CORNED BEEF. I mean, it tastes nothing like corn, and little like beef. And corned is a verb. Do they, like, hit it with corn? Is there this mysterious "corning" process we know nothing about? Does "corning" involved dousing it with battery acid? And why only beef? Why is there no CORNED CHICKEN, or CORNED HAM? or CORNED SALMON? And is it possible to produce CORNED CORN?

http://www.fsis.usda.gov/OA/pubs/cornbeef.htm

Corning is a form of curing; it has nothing to do with corn. The name comes from Anglo-Saxon times before refrigeration. In those days, the meat was dry-cured in coarse "corns" of salt. Pellets of salt, some the size of kernels of corn, were rubbed into the beef to keep it from spoiling and to preserve it.

as soon as i saw "CORNED BEEF" i puked. that's gross.

As long as you vomited. That's the important thing.

The store is Market House Meats.

AAAAAHHH! Facts! Jesus, Mike, why would you supply me with facts? This site is no place for helpful information!

Pellets of salt, some the size of kernels of corn, were rubbed into the beef to keep it from spoiling and to preserve it.

Well, except if you consider that in Anglo-Saxon times they didn't have corn in England, and therefore it's not called "corning" because the pellets of salt were the same size as corn kernels.

"Corn" in Anglo-Saxon times just meant any small particle, although it may have specifically specified a grain particle - don't have any references handy. But anyway, it's nothing to do with what we now call corn (which is really maize) - which is called corn because any grain was called corn, at the time.

Darn government-spread misinformation ;)

I had always figured that the corned beef had something to do with peppercorns. But I had no particular basis for that belief, except that I wanted it to be so. Given the current administration and the continuing absence of Lindt bar-bearing trees, it is tragically apparent that my wanting things to be so is considered non-compelling by the powers that be.

By the way, I love corned beef, and anyone who does not is a terrorist.

ARRrrgh! I *learned* something today! And it's a FRIDAY.
You people.

Heh. 'Tis glorious.

One such phrase has been with me for almost 10 years, discovered on a late-night Spoonerism run some friends and I made through a supermarket (late-night supermarkets being dangerous linguistic locales indeed): "Boot Reer".

And there is also the greatest Gatorade flavor of all time (linguistically speaking, that is): "Fierce Melon".

(Oh, man.)

%Sometimes I can't stop thinking "Ana Gasteyer".% I prefer corned beef.

No, no, you people have the whole corning technology discssion all wrong.

Corning was invented in Ireland by the evil English overlords, back in the time period when the Irish had saved civilization and been so ground down and exhausted by the effort of copying all those manuscripts in uncial hand that they just sort of watched as the redcots came trooping in.

A major part of the English pacification effort was wholesale slaughter and dismemberment, leaving many an extra human foot laying about on the old sod.

Being a efficient, industrious people, our friends the Limeys noed the overwhelming presence of eruptive calluses, or "corns," on the rebel feet.

In a leap of reasoning unlikely ever to be repeated, the current Lord Cornwallis (who took his name from these calluses, having previously built a wall from them back in Blighty, and his state was so, as a result: Cornwall) decided that it being Ireland and all, he should add some meat to the national repast of cabbage and potatoes.

The problem was storing the meat for a long period of time - after all, if the Irish were to eat meat only once a year in mid march, a means to storing the undesirable scrpas from my lord's table had to be devised.

Meat scraps + callusses in a big barrel of peatwater = corned beef!

And the rest, of course, is history. Later corners limited this variety of preservation to produce the infamous Corn Dogs, replacing the peat + feet with salt and mustard seeds for the corned beef we no love and admire.

and may I say: ha HA!

Even weider: Dutch people pronounce Corned Beef as "Cor-NET Beef" (even in "proper" Dutch pronounciation that would be wrong, it's a weird mix, generated by someone who didn't speak English, but thought it would be cool to sell Corned Beef. I mean Cor-NET beef.)
My mother came (back) to Holland from Australia somewhere in the 1970's, and corned beef had just been introduced on the Dutch market. She thought she'd buy some, so she asked for some "Corned Beef" (proper English pronounciation)
Butcher: "What?"
Mother: "Corned Beef"
Butcher: "What?"
Mother: "CORNED BEEF" *points*
*Butcher thinks for a while*
Butcher: "Ohh....you mean Cor-NET Beef!"
Mother: "It's called Corned Beef."
Butcher: "No, Cor-NET beef."
Mother: "Never mind" *buys Cor-NET beef*

I understand this malady a little too well. A friend of mine has been in the clutches of the phrase "corny corn corn" for several weeks now.

We're all praying for a swift recovery.

you're hilarious. thx.

I myself have enjoyed many a gleeful moment driving around in the privacy of my car repeating the phrase "I am....Dracula!" in my best (or worst) Transylvanian accent. Try it, you'll love it!

i don't care if i'm about a year too late.
one that plagued me through the last quarter/finals of some year in high school was: Eudora Welty. over and over, through tests, all the time, it ran through my brain. it still haunts me a little.