What Lenten fasting has in common with Tough Mudder
Ash Wednesday is upon us, and it is once again time to meditate on the unusually self-aware admission of Sir Andrew Aguecheek in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night: ‘I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.’ It has until now been an exceptionally good season for beef. Grass-fed steak cut from organic Belgian Blues has featured – perhaps the best steak this writer has experienced, except for once in a restaurant with a yellow-painted cinderblock exterior somewhere off the shoulder of a Burgundian route départementale. Paper-thin sheets of Wagyu rolled into ridiculously expensive appetisers have not been lacking. Beef wellington encased in exquisitely gilded
