Amateur Butchery

~ This article first appeared in The Leader-Vindicator newspaper. ~

Nothing can ruin an appetite quite like amateur butchery.

I’ve waxed extensively about what ought be done and how society ought to change and it occurs to me this morning that for the theory to take hold reality must contribute its fair share.  My reality is that I, for one, pretty much don’t know how to do anything that I say everyone else outta do.

In this example I’m focusing on butchering chickens.  My chickens check all the theoretical boxes: They were raised outside with clean air and fresh grass every day.  I provided clear water, plenty of wholesome feed, and a life as free of stress as possible.  This is good chicken, and this is the standard portrayed as ideal throughout the small-food world.

If the theory sets the mental image for “good food” then reality adds in the gritty details.  A critical detail of home-raised food is processing and presentation.  No matter how much wind we blow talking about our lofty food standards, if the food doesn’t look good we won’t eat it no matter the provenance.  That’s not snobbish, it’s practical instinct.

I am not a good butcher.  The most recent broiler I presented to my family was definitely distinguishable as avian in origin, but the carcass looked like it had been sucked through Captain Sully’s jet engine and then doused in the Hudson upon emergency landing.  There’s no good way to shine a positive light on something that looks so dilapidated: “Hey, the bird had a good life, you know…”  Right.  Certainly the thing couldn’t be served as a meal in such condition; my solution was to cook the whole bird in a Crock Pot and then pull the meat off the bones prior to serving.  Dreams of a whole roasted chicken with mashed potatoes or juicy chicken breasts fresh off the grill looked laughable in the moment.

I think in this experience we find critical information left out of the homesteading how-to business: Ability will not match the idea.  If someone doesn’t have experience – and who does, if they’re reading the how-to book - their final results aren’t going to be mentionable in public because the outcomes are so horrific that they’re deemed inhumane or offensive.  First-timers will and probably do run gleefully to the rotisserie chicken section of Walmart after their home-raised experiment goes off the rails.

We’ve done an excellent job of bringing along the theory of a better foodscape.  Reality says, at least in my case, that ability better get in shape if it’s going to keep up with the thoughts sprinting through the minds of millions.  Better food will be crippled as long as better skill lies in the automated machines designed and employed by food giants.  I can remember a restaurant owner dragging my dad and me into the kitchen to show us his New York Strip steaks: each one weighed exactly the same.  He wanted similar results from us, or get out.  We got out.

It’s easy to hear this story and put on a show of offense against such a closed-minded man, but aren’t we all guilty just the same?  Don’t we all desire some level of tidiness on our plate?  I’m certain that my family has lost customers in the past because of poor butchery work; there is one couple in particular who loved the flavor of our beef but couldn’t get over the lack of uniformity from hand-cut steak.  We hire out the cattle butcher work to people who do it every day; imagine this couple’s reaction if I had done the cutting!

There is still a large gap between the local production idea and the local production reality.  I don’t see how this shortfall can be remedied by anything but time: It will take a generation of people with no ability, determinedly grinding away through the frustration of failures and public rejection, raising their kids with some ability in order to eventually yield a capable on-farm workforce.  In the meantime, the consumer mindset must soften slightly on expectations of perfection.  Grocery store butchery is perfect because it has mechanical backing.  Human butchery will produce some variation, and that’s not bad. 

It just can’t be too bad.