Since returning from our rather unsuccessful hunting trip (*gasp!* We'll have to buy our own red meat this year. Read on for a plan), I've been running into meats of all sorts in all sorts of places.
I've often said that if I wasn't a financial advisor, I would want to be a butcher. For some, this is the most horrible thing in the world. Akin to murder. I challenge that line of thinking on an evolutionary basis. Consider for the moment the human mouth. Our tongue not only seeks out those things that provide a wide range of nutritional benefit, but our teeth and jaw alignment is perfectly suited to grind up a wide range of foods. We have evidence of our earliest ancestors hunting and butchering animals at the dawn of the Stone Age, about 2.5 million years ago. At that time, our teeth and jaws were much more like a chimpanzee's--sharper, pointed teeth up front, molars in the back in a longer narrower jaw hinged deeply in the skull and attached to massive jaw muscles. Our palates have grown wider and shorter, and while some evolutionary theorists believe that forks, knives and cooking have made us weaker, I like to think of us as more refined. We still have sharper, tearing teeth placed up front so that we can remove large bites, and broad molars for grinding and mashing. Even our saliva is attuned to pre-digesting the essential proteins found in meat.
But there is more than evolution at play in my admiration of butchery. In much the same way Da Vinci explored the human figure examining musculature beneath the skin, a butcher knows his or her way around a carcass and creates an artform of separating different masses of muscle from bone.
The Denver Contemporary Art Museum hosted a a week-long art project called Art Meets Beast. Among other elements and events, Jimmy "The Butcher" Cross dissected a half a bison in roughly 2 hours. To put this feat of mastery into perspective, my Dad and I (who have a collective 80 years of experience in butchering our own meat) take 4 hours to butcher a deer, which is about half the mass of half-a-bison. Jimmy's knife (a 6 inch Boner) danced in and out and between bones like Gene Kelly weaving around light poles and umbrellas. (By the way--there was SUPPOSED to be the music of Buffalo Springfield on the flugelhorn. I heard no Buffalo Springfield and no flugelhorn. Roger Green played "Home on the Range" on electric guitar as background music for the butchering workshop, however.) Peter Marczyk of Marczyk Fine Foods (where Jimmy performs his craft) provided running commentary during the demonstration and expounded on the nature of bison, the butchering process and artform, the rise of American interest in knowing where our food comes from, and the lament that all too often, demand for particular cuts of meat (tenderloin, rib eyes, etc.) drive the price up for a whole animal and changes the marketability of beef, pork and bison in general. I plan to buy a whole bison to split with my Dad in lieu of the elk we didn't get.
The Denver Contemporary Art Museum hosted a a week-long art project called Art Meets Beast. Among other elements and events, Jimmy "The Butcher" Cross dissected a half a bison in roughly 2 hours. To put this feat of mastery into perspective, my Dad and I (who have a collective 80 years of experience in butchering our own meat) take 4 hours to butcher a deer, which is about half the mass of half-a-bison. Jimmy's knife (a 6 inch Boner) danced in and out and between bones like Gene Kelly weaving around light poles and umbrellas. (By the way--there was SUPPOSED to be the music of Buffalo Springfield on the flugelhorn. I heard no Buffalo Springfield and no flugelhorn. Roger Green played "Home on the Range" on electric guitar as background music for the butchering workshop, however.) Peter Marczyk of Marczyk Fine Foods (where Jimmy performs his craft) provided running commentary during the demonstration and expounded on the nature of bison, the butchering process and artform, the rise of American interest in knowing where our food comes from, and the lament that all too often, demand for particular cuts of meat (tenderloin, rib eyes, etc.) drive the price up for a whole animal and changes the marketability of beef, pork and bison in general. I plan to buy a whole bison to split with my Dad in lieu of the elk we didn't get.
This week, I also took the time to swing by and see my friends at Il Mondo Vecchio. Walking through the doors on Loading Dock Friday, continues to bring a smile to my face. The inviting fragrance of spices and curing meat promise a reward for the palate as well. And certainly, I'm always excited to hear what's new and upcoming, and exchange recipe ideas. Gennaro, dressed handsomely and incongruously in a dark suit and a tie, greeted us at the door and showed us around the facility. He walked us through the curing process and then introduced the samples layed out for us to try. Hot Coppa, Longanzia, Cured Duck, Beef Bresaola, Vino e Pepe Nero. I picked up a half pound of Bresaola for my friend and a little of my favorite pork product, and a half pound of Duck Lardo. On the way out Mark DiNittis was coming back into the shop. We discussed recipes, meats, and love of the craft. He also let drop that he's going to be featured in a new book, Primal Cuts: Cooking with America's Best Butchers. The dude is a rockstar.
I took the Bresaola to Highland Tap and Burger and my buddy Eli, the executive chef there. He creates a fusion of beer and meat products. He'll sample the Bresaola in the cheese platter with homemade mostardo and a whole-grain ale mustard. The nice guy gave me beer for the trouble. And next week I'll introduce him personally to Il Mondo Vecchio.
If you're not already a committed vegetarian, I applaud you. You know the joys of well prepared meats and the majesty inherent in the noble beast. If you are a vegetarian, I applaud you too. You get a golf clap. Way to stay committed to your principles.
Tonight for dinner:
Awesome Osso Buco
Instead of shanks, you can also use neck bones, tail bones or other less favorable cuts of meat. Good Osso Buco is about the deep meaty flavor.
1/4 cup Vegetable Oil
2-4 Beef Shanks (about 3 pounds)
2-4 Lamb Shanks (about 1 pound)
Kosher Salt
1 medium Onion, chopped
2 medium Carrots, peeled and chopped
1 stalk Celery, chopped
1 tablespoon Tomato Paste
1 cup good Dry Red Wine
2 1/2 cups Vegetable Broth (or Chicken or Beef)
1 sprig Rosemary
3-4 sprigs Thyme
1 Bay Leaf
4 whole Cloves
12 whole Black Peppercorns
For a prettier presentation, use butcher's twine to tie the meat onto the bone. Lightly and evenly sprinkle salt on the shanks. Let stand on end to dry.
In a large dutch oven (cast iron is great) heat the oil until smoking and lay in the shanks. Brown them on all sides. Reduce the heat to medium high and add the onion, celery and carrots. Sprinkle on the 1 teaspoon of the salt. Stir until the onion begins to turn translucent and then add the wine and tomato paste. Stir gently until the paste dissolves. Add the broth (I prefer vegetable because it's not as heavy and over powering). Place the rosemary, thyme, cloves, black peppercorns, and bay leaf in a satchel of cheesecloth. Add to the broth.
Cover and let come to a boil. Reduce the heat and let simmer for 1 1/2 hours. Check now and then, making sure the liquid isn't boiling off too quickly. add more broth if needed. Using tongs, gently turn the shanks making sure that each part gets the liquid love it deserves.
Remove the shanks to serving platter. Discard the cheesecloth. Ladle on the broth and vegetables. Add fresh thyme and rosemary as a garnish. Serve with crusty artisan bread.
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