|...even from the Civil War, as this letter illustrates:
My dearest Augustina,
Create your own story, even if it's just, "Man, that New York strip was incredible," which will be most of our stories.
We reached Appomattox this afternoon, and tonight, my darling, our repast is under the stars. McCracken lit upon some New York Strips, we still do not know from where, and they are a far cry from the embalmed beef to which we are accustomed. Usually New York Strips are as scarce as hen's teeth, but McCracken knows how to find things. The buttery loveliness and kindly tenderness of a New York Strip adjusts my heart into a state of purest blessedness. Peterson nearly ravaged his New York with ketchup but McCracken swiped the bottle from his hand and proclaimed, "Are you a savage? Garlic, salt, pepper, and an abundance of olive oil are all you need." McCracken always has olive oil, we still do not know from where. Until later, my cherished one, because McCracken just brought forth the sour cream for the baked potatoes.