What a surprise this morn to force up my laptop, click on my shortcut-link to the MSNBC website,and thither on the face page get a picture of my butcher, Russell Flint, of Rain Shadow Meats.As shortly as I saw the photograph, I exclaimed to myself: "Hey, that's my butcher!" And that got me thinking. People all the time, myself included, use identifying phrases like "my mechanic," "my barber," "my dentist," or "my plumber.
But the word "my butcher" is not something you ever really hear. It surely is not a word that I get used before, at least not prior to April of this year, the month that Rain Shadow Meats opened in my neighborhood here in Seattle, about 4 blocks from where I live.
Since Rain Shadow Meats opened I have become a regular customer, usually dropping by early Sunday afternoon, or sometimes mid-week as I walk home from work. And, I must say, I really enjoy my visits. A great portion of this use is derived from the face-to-face of buying meat from someone whom I hope to offer high-quality meat at a cost that I love is clean set. I know that Russell has interpreted the metre to live from where the substance he sells comes, and that acquiring the meat cheaper or easier is not given consideration. Much of this is clearly set off in the shop's mission statement, which reads in great share as follows:
"Our charge is to get back the local neighborhood butcher with an accent on whole animal butchery, education, and the introduction of community. We act with local farms to provide farmers with a way to give the world through our customers and to assure the highest quality products." (emphasis mine)
So, instead of cladding a glaring meat case in a grocery store, with meat from who-knows-where anonymously peddled, buying from Rain Shadow Meats gives me an opportunity to be a member of a community. Moreover, being a portion of this community gives me the chance to hold the values of ethical, local, and small-scale meat production, which is to say, NON-industrialized meat production. Thus, not only am I able to buy what, to me, represents an excellent value because of its high quality, but I am able to buy from a butcher shop that shares and represents my values.
Certainly, the core that I buy from my butcher costs more than what I could get at the local Safeway or Wal-Mart; however, what I am buying is more valuable. To my mind, I am getting more than what I pay for. I am contributing to the economic success (I hope) of a little concern in my neighborhood, and I am offering support for local agriculture, something that the commoditization and industrialisation of our food supply has done its level best to obliterate. And, on top of all that, the core that I buy from "my butcher" tastes incredible.Of course, I can already hear the naysayers beginning to charge me of elitism, sneering-"Oh, sure, listen to the well-paid attorney sing the praises of pricey meat. Tell that to the struggling family of 4 who could never afford ground chuck selling for $6.49 a pound." But this point (which is a classic red-herring argument, in any case) is nicely addressed in the MSNBC article about Rain Shadow Meat:
"Although he was uneasy at first that customers would get sticker shock, so far [Russell] said the higher prices have not seemed to frighten away customers who trust in the character of meat he sells.
"On a recent weekday morning, preschool teacher Michael Washington biked up to Rain Shadow Meats to buy a couple pounds of beef chuck - at $6.49 a pound - which he was planning to use to make goulash. The same cut was selling for $3 less per pound at a nearby chain grocery store.
"Washington, 30, said he can't afford to buy high-end meat all the time. But he said his girlfriend has persuaded him that it's worth it to at least occasionally invest in substance that is grown locally on small farms and with fewer additives. It's not merely because it might be healthier or taste better.
"(She says), 'Shouldn't you be paid more? This is the spirit of an animal that you're using,' " Washington said." (emphases added)
What an interesting-and correct, I think-way to see at the measure of the centre being sold at Rain Shadow Meats. Buying the case of heart you can trust in is not simply a purchase, but also an investment. Moreover, if you concentrate on the renowned quality of the centre that is being purchased, it is suddenly easier to value the actual rate of paying more, but also getting and giving more. For as my grandmother, who grew up during the Heavy Depression, was heard often to say, "Just because something is cheaper does not base it's a just value." Why else would the term "cheap" have become mostly a pejorative term-as in, "a job done on the cheap."
For this and other reasons, I proceed to believe it bizarre that great numbers of U.S. consumers still uncritically accept the belief that cheap-or should I say, less expensive-meat is necessary so that it can be eaten with every meal of every day. When I was growing up, in a family of exceedingly modest means, the Sunday roast was a near-celebratory thing. There was simply no expectation that you were passing to get a big lump of heart with every meal. And, as a result, the heart our family did enjoy, not infrequently but not everyday, was valued that often more.
This reminds me of an installment of the cable-television show, "The Fabulous Beekman Boys."In this episode, called "Bringing Home the Bacon," Josh and Brent prepare the two pigs they have raised (and given names to) for slaughter. (They had hired two experts from a nearby university to do the slaughter, but Josh and Brent intended to be present. As the episode unfolds, there is quite some suspense built around whether they will actually go through with the slaughter, and rather a few tears are shed on the way-including by me. I leave not violate the end for those who may want to see the episode (which I highly recommend).
One of the many things truly notable about the "teaching moment" that this episode made possible is the lovely blog postthat Brent and Josh authored afterwards, titled "An Extra Value Meal."(Notice that word value again?) In the blog-post, among the respective points made, is an account of the efforts that the boys hit to "be certain that all of our animals are cared for in the most comfortable, happy, and secure environment possible. We do not admit that job lightly." (For a picture of the boys reflecting on what occurred, go here.)
Nowadays, people mindlessly shove 99 cent hamburgers down their throats, barely stopping to try them (which might, in fact, be a right thing, now that I guess about it). But, as Adele Douglass, the ground of Humane Farm Animal Care (HFAC*), said when asked why she thinking it crucial for masses to see where their food comes from:
"I suppose because they'll appreciate it more. I consider what they were saying, when Brent says he won't eat a 99 cent burger again, it's true. It costs more to produce animals right, treat them right. It's important for masses to value that there's a sacrifice involved for their food. I consider that most of us give an approximation of where food comes from, but the thought we own isn't a reality.
Neither is it a world to make that bacon can get on our plate without there being a death involved-namely, the destruction of the pig from which the bacon came. In watching the episode of the Beekman Boys mentioned above, my partner Tom said, "I could never kill an animal that I had raised myself." And I take to say that I concur with Tom; I could not do so either. But neither will I cut the fact that, but for the end of a pig, lamb, or steer, there would be no heart for me to buy or eat. Thus, unless I prefer to turn a vegetarian or vegan, I find that it is incumbent upon me to draw ethical choices-or, as honorable as I can try to be-when purchasing meat. And if that means paying more, that is an investment that I am more than willing to make.
In the end, being mindful about where my food comes from, especially meat, and how it was produced, is the way I take to eat. I desire to consider almost all of the costs associated with the meat I purchase, and not only its purchase price. That's one big reason why I am so glad to give Rain Shadow Meats in my neighborhood, and why I don't believe I will always get tired of impressive people to give "my butcher" a try.
*HFAC is, according to its website, a "national non-profit 501(c)3 organization created to amend the lives of farm animals by setting rigorous standards, conducting annual inspections, and certifying their humane treatment." Its website can be found here.
Rain Shadow Meats is placed within the Melrose Market building, 1531 Melrose Ave. Seattle. They are clear from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. daily. Their telephone number is 206-467-MEAT (6328). And, for those of you who are of a more cynical bent-no, I make no economic involvement in Rain Shadow Meats. I'm simply a big fan.
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