So I have a flash of a recent Good Eats repeat and remember that on one of her bizarre food outings, Ericka returned with a pound of frozen ground beef. So I dig it out of the freezer, drop it into a plastic bag and then into a plastic bowl of water. With the help of a slow drizzle of water to keep convection going, it thawed in about an hour and a half.
I added a few pinches of salt, a little pepper and formed it into three nice patties. Fried them up (only one flip!) and ate them sandwiched between bread with just a bit of mustard. Tasty and very filling.
Whenever I dig out a meat dish, Ericka gets hyper-aware of what I'm doing. The thought of eating meat makes her physically ill and she gets paranoid about the (minute) possibility of contamination. She worried, for example, that I might give some of the raw meat to our dog. I pointed out that dogs are carnivores to which she retorted, "Not our pup." I patiently pointed out that the food we feed the dog is made of potatoes and duck, ducks being meat last I checked.
After a stunned silence, she announced that it must be made from stuffed ducks. Or rubber duckies. Otherwise, she wouldn't sleep well at night thinking about being responsible for the slaughter of one animal to feed another.
I love her silly self.