Real. Life. Meat.
Meat does not come out of the grocery store. It does not come from plastic wrapped styrofoam dishes in the meat department.
It comes from Cows. Pigs. Rabbits. Chickens. They were all alive at some point, but our culture has caused us to get sickened by the thought of actually seeing it. Admitting it.
Instead, we say to our children (and ourselves), “Yes, honey, beef comes from cows and pork comes from pigs and chicken comes from chicken.” And, most of the time, that’s where the conversation stops, because we often don’t allow ourselves to go any deeper for fear of evoking the societally unacceptable truth that the meat on our plates was walking a few days ago.
This one was walking a few minutes ago.
And my kids saw it walking. They saw it “bolted.” (A bolt gun shoots a 3-6″ metal rod straight into the cow’s brain to kill it instantly.) They saw it butchered.
We kept our 6-year-old out of school to see it. We figured he could miss his weekly spelling test to see what we believe is a much more important life lesson.
Where his food comes from.
And what better person to learn that from than Mike Callicrate and his dedicated staff of butchers, cowboys, office workers, and truck drivers.
Mike brought his prototype mobile slaughter unit to Venetucci Farm and opened it up from 8am till 4ish and invited the whole community to come see the process. In a fully customized semi trailer, his team slaughtered 6 cows, 1 pig and 2 rabbits*.
Our boys watched in awe. They were more glued to it than a kid watching a TV show.
They weren’t damaged for life. They won’t require psychological intervention. They have shown no signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
And they know a lot more than their friends, our friends and the majority of society about how, in this case, our meat gets to our plate.
*And then we ate one of our rabbits for dinner.
– The Goat Cheese Lady