I feel like the ape-man from 2001 staring down the monolith. Only the monolith is white, sideways, and rapidly cooling to 38 degrees fahrenheit.
Also sprach Zarathustra
It’s 14.8 cubic feet, and the gentlemen delivering it have just left. This freezer will soon be the repository of approximately four hundred pounds of high-quality grass-fed beef.
I’m buying an entire cow.
Technically it’s not a cow, it’s a steer. It was sixteen months old, about 1100 lbs, and until about a week ago, was rambling around the hillsides near Oroville, CA. I didn’t give it a name, because that’s about the most City Kid thing you can do when you’re dealing with livestock.
And make no mistake, I am a City Kid. I don’t have any appreciable agricultural-sciences-related knowledge. Growing up, I got most of my food from a supermarket, and for the most part, I still do.
And I was thinking about that recently. I’m an inveterate researcher, and when I want to learn about something, I jump in. I studied kung fu. I learned to hang glide. I taught myself golf. I dabbled in scuba. I researched dog breeds for five years before getting one, and then trained her through advanced obedience classes.
But my food? Not what I make, but what I buy? I know very little.
So I began looking into it. Meat does not originate shrinkwrapped to styrofoam in a supermarket. It’s an animal. It has a life just like any of us. What’s that life like? And when it ends, how can I make the most of that sacrifice?
So I jumped in. I learned something about cattle. I identified a cattle-ranching scenario that I would like to feed my family. And then, recognizing that the animal had to die to do that, I decided to make the absolute best use of that animal that I possibly could.
Hence this blog.
One cow. One family. One raucous year of culinary adventure.
I’m not a chef. I’m not a rancher. I’m just a regular guy with a cow.
Wish me luck.
