Let’s Talk About “Knowing Your Meat”
It’s been my intention all along to archive, republish, or rework here many of the posts originally published on The Previous Blog, for multiple reasons. And though I don’t plan to frequently republish older posts back-to-back like this, once again, a circumstance — in particular, some insistent hipster “Know Your Meats!” obnoxiousness — reminded me of an old post (Nov. ’09, differently titled) potentially worth revisiting. In the fall of 2009, Food Fight! Vegan Grocery came out with a new design by Kurt Halsey that served as partial inspiration for this post. I don’t know that the shirt is still or currently available anywhere [edit: shirts are here; I somehow missed them], but you can at least still get the blue sticker here.
“What kind of asshole eats a lamb?” It’s interesting how much difference one tiny word — one article, “a” — can make, isn’t it? People don’t talk about eating “a lamb.” They don’t envision that practice of eating a brutally killed baby. They distance themselves and talk about eating “lamb.” And “chicken” and “fish” and “turkey” — as if these are all just substances, not the bodies of individual thinking and feeling beings. But what if each body in each grocery store, farmer’s market, butcher’s shop, or restaurant came with a name and a story — maybe even a photo? How much do people really want to know whom — not just where — their so-called food comes from?
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“What does the chef recommend — Katie the lamb or Sandy the chicken? They both look delicious.”
“Well, Sandy was a ‘heritage’ hen from a small operation, so her body is reportedly quite tasty — and you know, her throat was slit by someone she trusted, so as you chew and savor her flesh, you can envision that moment and be assured a piece of her is a quite humane option. I hear she fought, and catching her and holding her down to get the job done took some effort — she resisted her destiny at first, naive girl — but she received the gift of seeing the face of someone she trusted as the knife cut and fear filled her and her wings flapped and the blood drained out, so it all turned out well for her in the end.
“As for Katie, she’s another fine choice. Adorable, that one. When they unloaded her and the other lambs at the slaughterhouse, she stumbled around just like a clumsy, frightened toddler. And oh, how she and that mother of hers cried when they took her away! Should have heard it. Sweet moments, really. But anyway, the gentleman at the table there next to you ordered a hefty portion of her left leg earlier tonight, and he reports that indeed her baby flesh is quite tender and enjoyable — and she’s even local! Born and killed and chopped up just ten miles outside the city. [Note: vegans sensitive to upsetting images, don't click the links.]
“But wait — I didn’t even tell you about the special! Forgive me. And I see you brought your young children with you this evening, so this is perfect — it is truly a wonderful family dish. We call it ‘Mother and Son,’ and we feature a different pair each time we offer the special. Tonight’s offering is Samantha and Justin. Justin’s delicate flesh — we’ve stopped using the word ‘veal’ here as a courtesy to you, our patrons; we know today’s conscientious eaters really want to connect with the animals they’re eating — is just mouth-watering, and it comes topped with a lovely melted mozzarella cheese made from his mother Samantha’s milk.
“This dish is such a team effort — a piece of the mother and a piece of the son both on one plate, reunited! — so we really are grateful to the two. We wouldn’t have had the milk to make this rich cheese without killing Justin just after his birth, and without this delightful cheese, there wouldn’t even be a market for Justin’s truly tasty pieces. Samantha did bellow out a storm when newborn Justin was dragged away, and he called out for her periodically right until the bloody end, but we’re quite certain that deep down, they knew this was all for a higher, noble purpose. And we like to think of this menu item as finally giving Justin a taste of his mother’s milk, of the substance for which he died so commendably. I do personally recommend Justin — this is the third year we’ve served one of Samantha’s babies, and each one before has been scrumptious.
“Oh, I do hope you’ll each try someone different. Sandy, Katie, Samantha, Justin — they’re all just to die for.”
Stephanie Ernst
Marji
Kelly G.
Deb
Mary Martin
Thank you Stephanie. For me, this entry demonstrates what *my* personal problem was, as a kid, eating meat. I had spent a summer at a farm when I was 8 – learning to milk goats, feed chickens, and make cheese. It was a lot of fun, but I got to know a pig and a goat quite well, and it was a big thing for me, as a kid, to realize that these animals I loved were going to be eaten someday when they weren’t “useful” around the farm anymore. Actually, I’m not sure what made the pig “useful” — I have a feeling she was a 4H project…
That you had such an experience is one of those happy-sad things, isn’t it? I mean, it’s good that you were able to connect at a young age to animals people consider “food” and have that play into your journey, but it’s simultaneously so sad that a revelation about who animals are and what we unnecessarily do was not supposed to be a part of the experience for you and that their fate still was what it was.
Yeah, I think I was lucky & unfortunate to have this epiphany at such a young age. But there are plenty of people who do have a similar “learning” experience and yet don’t take away the same knowledge. I can’t see goats & pigs & horses & cows & chickens as food any more than I can see my cat as someone’s dinner or fur coat.
You can still get the shirt here-
http://store.foodfightgrocery.com/shirts.html
Excellent! Thanks, Kurt. I’ll update. For some reason, I didn’t find it when I was on the site.
Aaaand I failed to realize whose design this is and to give you credit! Another update is on the way…
Well the shirt was Chad @ Food Fight’s idea- I just executed it. So he deserves the credit as the idea man!
Another great highlight of the disconnect that allows people to eat (or wear) animals and still look at themselves in the mirror without total shame. My folks spent time with us again recently and for the first time my father (in his mid 70′s) took on the “feed rounds” roll for the entire 4 weeks. On the day before they left, as I was heading out to feed, he asked (with watery eyes – I kid you not) if he could please feed. And that night when we took them out to a final dinner refused to eat anything on the menu that had a ‘sibling’ at Avondale. Which didn’t leave much choice! The connection’s been quietly made.
Thanks for this. These scenarios almost answer some of the questions I think of when I consider farming in morbid ways that I sometimes do: What is worse- having a horrible death as a release from constantly torturous conditions, or being killed by someone you learned to bond with and trust, during a life that resembled an abusive relationship- where tiny luxuries made you feel safe enough not to fight.
I don’t know and I suppose it doesn’t matter what is worse. All I know is that “humane” slaughter sickens me to the core and having seen it, it is almost more disturbing than the animals who have known only pain and suffering their entire lives- because with them it is not surprising to us that they face more suffering.
But with thoughts like this, no one can claim with a clear conscience that their “humane” meat was anything less than a betrayal of trust and a painful and terrifying death.
Yes, Corvus, it saddens me to think that good people who support the killing and consuming of “humanely raised” animals would never defend such disloyalty if it involved a member of their own species. Killing an innocent, inoffensive, unsuspecting friend who can do nothing to prevent the perpetrator from committing such an act shows how deeply embedded the violent ideology of carnism is in our culture. (I’m reading Melanie Joy’s book on carnism — Why We Love Dogs, Eat Pigs and Wear Cows — right now; can you tell?)