Do you have any friends named James Roberto, Barnard or Elizabeth who don’t go by Jim Bob, Barney or Liz? If you do, they are no doubt a hangover from parents who insisted that their children be addressed by their legal name.
Unfortunately, some who are so named don’t quite fit the image. Like a Terrier-Possum cross who goes by the moniker “King.”
Names engender certain expectations. “So, what do you do, Elizabeth?...Oh. A professional wrestler, I see ...”
History tells us that an ancient king liked the haunch of beef so well that he knighted it. It was thereafter call Sir Loin.
It is my opinion that, like some of my friend’s appellations, Sir Loin is misnamed. Because of its regal sounding name it is often touted by restaurants, supermarkets and fast food steak houses as their specialty. I am occasionally served a sirloin steak in good faith by folks. I gnaw and tear my way through the six-ply slab, gritting my teeth and trying to smile.
But no more! In the name of Sir Rib Eye, true heir to the throne, I proclaim the Sirloin steak is the most overrated piece of meat on the carcass. Its next-door neighbors, the Rump and Round, make no pretense of being tender. They accept being pounded with a ballpeen, cut thin or roasted for hours as part of their lot in life.
But Sir Loin has let his name go to his head. He forgets sometimes that he comes from a working class neighborhood. Hangin’ around the hip bone, developing his muscles by driving 1,100 pounds of beef around for two years. He looks up the block at the T-bone and the Tenderloin and envies their popularity.
This is not to say that the Sirloin is a bad cut of meat. But it should not pretend to royalty. I think with proper counseling it could seek a niche where so much was not expected of it. Like the Brisket and Flank steak have done. It could have a future in fajitas, hamburger or kabobs.
I am aware that from a marketing standpoint the name Sirloin on the menu commands a higher price. Then somewhere down the line we carved off the Top Sirloin to market to people with less stamina. But you cannot make a silk purse out of a gluteus medius muscle.
We have unfairly saddled a journeyman piece of meat with a name it can never live up to.
Had we named it properly, Sir Loin wouldn’t feel so inadequate. He would have no need to put on airs. After all, he is not a Reginald or Montgomery. He is a Mo or a Bubba. Sir Loin could learn a lesson from Chuck.