The [half a] cow we ordered many moons (OK, weeks) ago is now here. I picked it up from Jone’s Packaging Company yesterday. The blessed moo came in nicely cut pieces, wrapped in butcher’s paper and arranged in seven flat cardboard boxes. Three additional bags of “trimmings,” each about 10 to 15 pounds, sat in two square boxes. I awed the man at the packaging company with my super-female strength by helping him heft the 40-pound boxes. A few minutes of Tetris and we were off.
Half of a cow, roughly 270 pounds of usable meat, fit neatly in the trunk of my minivan.
Mom and I divied up the meat. Her living room floor was blanketed in a sheet of white bundles as we “one for me”d our way into organization. Then we set off to grind up the trimmings.
Sane Most people have the butcher grind up the meat for them. I’m a little squeamish of meat-germs, though, and the company wouldn’t package the meat the way I wanted. Besides, the whole purpose of buying the cow was to be more involved in my food chain. I wouldn’t couldn’t butcher it, so I figured the least I could do was some of the processing.
In the first bag-o-trimmings, we discovered a treasure trove of dark red cuts that needed some cleaning. Most of the hard fat was trimmed off and those pieces were set aside for stew, jerky, grilling or whatever other thing we could think of. The remaining pieces were promptly put through the KitchenAid meat grinder.
The second bag had fewer nice cuts, but provided plenty of tallow (for Shannon to make suet balls and to feed Neighbor Lady’s chickens) and lots of nice looking ground beef. Mom made some meat balls with it, then smothered them in canned spaghetti sauce (btw, Mom, thanks, I wanted to eat those).
The third bag sat until today, because I didn’t have the energy to get through it. It was slow going this afternoon, but it’s mostly done.
I had a total emotional break down over the cow last night. Darling Husband and I made stir fry with some of the stew meat (note: stew meat is tough, this was a bad call on my part). All I could think about was how happy the cow was when I last saw it. And I was eating it. Poor cow.
Maybe I should be a vegetarian.