Within ten minutes, they had a plan. Arthur didn't just find beef; he found a 45-day dry-aged Prime porterhouse at a boutique butcher he’d driven past a hundred times without noticing.
Arthur smiled, thinking of Sarah and the digital map that had saved his reputation. "I have my sources," he said smoothly. "And luckily, they were right around the corner." where can i buy prime beef near me
"Hardly. If they’re sold out, we pivot to the ," she continued. "Places like Whole Foods or Wegmans usually have a dedicated Prime section in the glass case. And if you really want to impress them, we check the local specialty farms . There’s that ranch shop on the edge of town that does farm-to-table Prime Wagyu." Within ten minutes, they had a plan
Sarah laughed. "Artie, you’re a culinary genius but a tech dinosaur. Give me your phone." "I have my sources," he said smoothly
She didn't just search; she hunted. "First," she said, tapping the screen, "we check the . You don't want a supermarket right now; you want a guy with a leather apron and a passion for dry-aging. Look at The Marrow Post just three miles away. Their reviews specifically mention 'Prime' cuts and custom trimming." Arthur squinted. "Is that it?"
He was a man of high standards and even higher blood pressure, especially when he was hosting the "Gourmet Guild"—a group of four retired chefs who took their Saturday dinners very seriously. This week, the theme was The Perfect Steak , and Arthur had a problem. He had the wine, the cast iron was seasoned, and the sides were prepped. But the "Prime" ribeye he’d ordered from a budget delivery app had arrived looking suspiciously like Choice—or worse, Select.
