November 26 '05

                                                    

Volume 495

                   


Swinging Beef A Bygone Era

Swinging BeefDuring a break near the end of the book signing that I attended recently, Judy Maxey shared how my reading of the article "Thaxton General Store" triggered a memory on her part. Judy's parents once owned a small grocery store in Okolona, and while the store was in existence at the time I attended elementary school in Okolona, I don't think I ever had occasion to enter it.

"I can remember my mother and father cutting up meat in the market," she recalled. "They would bring out these big quarters of beef that must have weighed close to a hundred pounds and cut them on a wooden block."

"Forequarters and hindquarters," I replied, "and they weighed more than a hundred pounds, or at least the ones I was trained to cut were that large. The average hindquarter weighed about one hundred and twenty-five pounds, and a forequarter might weigh one hundred and forty-five pounds."

Judy also remembered the beef quarters were hung on large meat hooks in a cooler. It was her mentioning of beef quarters that flooded my mind with a lot of memories.

Of the suppliers who delivered meat to my dad's grocery store in the fifties, I mostly remember beef being unloaded from trucks bearing names such as Krey Packing Co., Mid South Packers, and Bryan Brothers. Dad's grocery didn't have a loading dock, so the delivery trucks stopped in the middle of Main Street to unload, bringing everything inside via the front door. Boxed products were generally rolled into the store on a two-wheeler, but the quarters of beef and primal cuts such as rounds and loins were carried on the shoulders of the muscular drivers or their helpers. Though the beef products were wrapped in waxed paper and encased with netting, it was inevitable that some blood from a forequarter or kidney fat from a hindquarter would be lost along the way.

By today's standards, sanitation in Dad's non-refrigerated market was a problem, but much of the meat was cut on the butcher block on a demand basis or else cut and papered for the display case to be sold by day's end. The butcher block was brushed or scrubbed several times daily, using a block brush with metal bristles. At the end of each day, Clorox water was liberally applied to the butcher block to sanitize the surface.

I was around thirteen when Dad asked Stephen Grey, our butcher, to teach me how to cut meat. With the simple tools of knives, cleaver, and hand saw, I became adept at separating quarters of beef into primals, cutting steaks and roasts, and boning the rest for stew meat and ground meat.

Pork required a different set of cutting skills, and besides it was more slippery to handle. Pork chops were most often carved down to the bone with a knife then chopped with a meat cleaver as opposed to being separated with a hand saw.

Our poultry selections were largely confined to whole fryers, which, it seems, everyone wanted to have cut up by the butcher. I also got pretty skilled in cutting up fryers, and my personal best time with a boning knife stands at seventeen seconds.

Over the next few years, I learned from other butchers, including Thurman Wood and my dad. All of my teachers were nice enough to me and extremely helpful, but Mr. Thurman was my favorite. He joked frequently and laughed a lot.

Almost twenty years passed before I came to consider my meat-cutting apprenticeship as occurring in the days of "swinging beef." Beef didn't swing in Dad's meat cooler it simply hung.

With the advent of supermarkets and self-service meats, larger coolers were needed for meat storage. Many of these employed a system with meat hooks attached to rollers connected to overhead rails. Sometimes the rails inside the cooler resembled a railroad yard and snaked all the way from the loading dock to the cutting room. In this type of environment beef really did swing.

By the mid-seventies swinging beef was on its way out and a new way of ordering beef was ushered in. Promoted as "boxed beef" the new era allowed a retailer to purchase only the primals one needed. For example, if the retailer wanted to promote ribeye steaks, he didn't have to purchase six forequarters in order to have six beef ribs he could buy a single case of boneless ribeye loins.

In many respects, boxed beef was a blessing. Each piece of meat was sealed in plastic which helped control shrinkage in both transit and storage. There was suddenly much less boning to do, as there were no leg muscles to strip from the bones, no brisket plates, and no flanks with which to contend.

Boxed beef created a shortage of meat for grinding, but meat packers solved that problem by introducing course ground beef in plastic tubes that could be opened in a moment and finely ground into consumer-ready ground beef.

Today's meat industry continues to change, adapting to the changing demands of an ever-changing consumer. With both men and women in the workplace, housewives and stay-at-home moms are almost non-existent. Families eat out more than ever before, and what little cooking is done at home is often relegated to the microwave.

Modern butchers no longer need the meat-cutting skills I was taught. Boxed beef made it unnecessary for a meat cutter to know how to separate the chuck from the rib by slicing between the fourth and fifth ribs of the forequarter or the proper angle needed to separate the loin from the beef round. In fact, in many modern supermarkets, one cannot buy a bone-in steak or roast.

Boxed beef brought tremendous change to the meat industry, but even those changes are now being eclipsed by new technologies. Wal Mart Super Centers offer consumers case-ready meat products direct from the producer. The supplier packages every fresh meat item sold by the super center. Butchers and meat cutters are not needed, and Wal Mart saves on labor expenses associated with these skilled workers.

I don't have a crystal ball. Therefore, I can't predict whether case-ready meat is here to stay or not. But, until it's accepted as the norm by all supermarkets, I prefer to buy meat in a somewhat old-fashioned way, where a meat cutter is on duty and fresh meats are packaged on the premises. While I long ago said goodbye to swinging beef, I'm not ready to bid farewell to the era of meat cutters, and I imagine Judy Maxey is not ready, either.


Fall Luncheon Fun-Filled Fundraiser

The Fine Arts Club of Pontotoc recently held it's Fall Harvest Luncheon, an annual fundraiser, at he Pontotoc Community Center. Barbara secured tickets for my sister, Sara Sue, and me. I arranged to work out of my Pontotoc office that morning, which made it possible for me to be in town for the luncheon. I believe this is the third straight year, I've been able to attend the event.

The three of us dropped off our tickets at the entrance to the Community Center, speaking to Betty Austin as we entered. Betty encouraged us to purchase a food item from the large display of homemade selections offered by club members. A quart of canned green beans by Judy Mogridge caught my eye, and a closer inspection indicated, "rare seed." Several dessert items also beckoned, but we opted to eat the meal awaiting us, rather than shop.

We arrived shortly before noon, but already the dining area was almost half filled.

Spotting Leoda Morrow, a club member helping wait tables, I asked, "Which table is reserved for food critics?"

Leoda laughed and responded, "That one, over in the corner!"

I saw Miss Ruth McCullough in the serving room, plating chicken and dressing, and decided to tease her.

"That dressing doesn't look done," I suggested.

"Does it not?" Miss Ruth asked, somewhat troubled by my observation.

"Well, it's pretty pale. What do you think?"

"Come into the kitchen and look at what's in the oven, then," she responded.

"It's pale, too. It needs to brown some more."

Even though I smiled and assured everyone the dressing was fine, Miss Ruth turned up the heat for the oven. Of course, I should be ashamed of myself, but what good is living if one can't have a little fun and enjoyment in life, even if it involves giving folks a hard time?

Seeing Judy Mogridge nearby, I asked, "I saw your home canned green beans, but what's with the note about rare beans?"

"Oh, that's rare seed" she corrected. "You can't buy the seed anymore, so you have to save some seed from year to year."

After rattling the servers, somewhat, I located Barbara and Sarah, and we took a seat at the table Leoda showed us earlier. Leoda took our drink orders, and moments later our plates arrived.

Aside from the chance to visit with friends, the best part of the Fall Festival Luncheon is the sensible-sized portions the ladies of the Fine Arts Club serve. The portions are generous without being overwhelming. In addition to chicken and dressing, there were puffed potatoes, English pea casserole, and hot fruit compote. Every bite on my plate was delicious.

Bobbie Young brought around a large tray of assorted dessert offerings, from which I chose a slice of sweet potato pie. Barbara selected chocolate chip pie and Sarah chose cake. During the course of our meal, several others joined us at the table.

Paul Sims was hesitant to sit at the same table with me, stating, "If you're going to write something critical about this luncheon, don't mention I sat at your table."

So in deference to Paul, I shall note only that I thoroughly enjoyed the entire meal and look forward to next year's event.

Trying to leave the luncheon proved difficult as first Barbara, then Sarah, as well as me, each found someone to talk to along the way. I discovered Judy's green beans were sold out as were most of the dessert items I had perused earlier.

I've not consulted any of the club members, but from the turnout I saw, I'd judge the luncheon a huge success.


Thanks To Squanto Plymouth Pilgrims Prosper

On September 16, 1620, a group numbering 102 men, women, and children left Plymouth, England, for America on the Mayflower. Having been blown off course from their intended landing in Virginia by a terrible storm, the Pilgrims landed at Cape Cod on November 11. On December 21, they landed on the site of Plymouth Colony. While still on the ship, the Pilgrims signed the Mayflower Compact

The Pilgrims were blown off course and landed at Cape Cod in what now appears to be God's providence. Because their patent did not include this territory, they consulted with the Captain of the Mayflower and resolved to sail southward. But the weather and geography did not allow them to do so.

They encountered "dangerous shoals and roaring breakers" and were quickly forced to return to Cape Cod. From there they began scouting expeditions and finally discovered what is now Plymouth. Had they arrived just a few years earlier, they would have been attacked and destroyed by one of the fiercest tribes in the region.

However, three years earlier (in 1617), the Patuxet tribe had been wiped out by a plague. The Pilgrims thus landed in one of the few places where they could survive.

There was one survivor of the Patuxet tribe: Squanto. He was kidnapped in 1605 by Captain Weymouth and taken to England where he learned English and was eventually able to return to New England. When he found his tribe had been wiped out by the plague, he lived with a neighboring tribe.

When Squanto learned that the Pilgrims were at Plymouth, he came to them and showed them how to plant corn and fertilize with fish. He later converted to Christianity. William Bradford said that Squanto "was a special instrument sent of God for their good beyond their expectation."

The preceding were answers to a children's Thanksgiving quiz. For the test and answers, go to http://federalistpatriot.us/news/thanks.asp

Acknowledgement:
Kerby Anderson "Thanksgiving Quiz." Probe 1996.


Bodock Beau Ox And Mule

Sometimes the humor in this column is purposefully selected to complement one of the editor's articles. This week it just happened, unintentionally.

Ran Out of Sick Days

A farmer had an ox and a mule that he hitched together for plowing.

One night, after several continuous days of fieldwork, the ox said to the mule, "We’ve been working pretty hard. Let’s play sick tomorrow and lie here in our stalls all day."

"You can if you want to," the mule responded, "but I believe I’ll go to work."

The next morning when the farmer came out, the ox pretended he was sick. The farmer bedded him down with clean straw, gave him fresh hay and a bucket of oats and left him for the day. The mule picked up the slack and pulled the plow by himself.

That night, the ox asked the mule how he got along and if the farmer had said anything about him.

"No," the mule stated. Hearing this, the ox decided to play sick the following day.

Again, the ox received comfortable bedding and plenty to eat. When the mule returned that night, the ox inquired how the day went.

"About the same as yesterday," the mule noted.

"Did the old man say anything to you about me?" the ox asked.

"No," replied the mule, "but he did have a long talk with the butcher on the way home." 

Can’t Hornswoggle Him

A city boy was hiking in the country with his rural friend.

As they went past a pasture, the city boy asked, "Why doesn’t that cow have any horns?"

"There are lots of reasons why cows don’t have horns," the country lad explained. "Some breeds don’t grow them until late in life. Some cattle are de-horned surgically. Still others never grow them."

"So why doesn’t that cow have any?" the city boy asked.

"Because it’s a horse!" his friend replied. 

Food for Thought

Two men were talking about how bad their wives’ cooking was.

"I don’t think you can top this," the one fellow said.

"My wife’s food is so bad, last summer the flies took up a collection to get the screen fixed."


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