I'm not sure about you, but I only have two images of butcher shops. One is on a small town main street in the 1950s; the other is the shop on the Sopranos. With all the emphasis on locally-grown food from hippies who desperately want to save the earth, hipsters who desperately want to be alternative, and yuppies who desperately want to be foodies after watching Top Chef, it made me wonder if mob-free butcher shops exist nowadays. Then, lo and behold, the latest issue of
Garden and Gun arrived in my mailbox, and it had an article featuring the resurgence of butcher shops (if I fall anywhere on the continuum, I think it's pretty clear it's on the yuppie side, sans money). Which made me think, if I'd stuck to the plan of getting my MBA, I would have made a great marketer. I'm often living on the cutting-edge of other people's cool... just saying. Anyway, back to the meat.
The locales featured represented the entire target market of locally-grown food. D.C. and Atlanta covered the yuppies, while Nashville (East), Asheville, and Austin covered the hippies and hipsters. With one near my hometown of Nashville (Non-East), Kelly and I decided to cross #12 off my list last weekend. It was a great day for it as Vanderbilt just happened to be playing an intrasqaud football game pitting Black against Gold in a battle for supremacy of the Crayola box. What better way to celebrate than throwing some meat on the barbie (just like the ancient Australians did during gladiatorial matches... if I remember my history correctly from "Mad Max: Beyond the Thunderdome")?
The shop was just what I pictured. Large refrigerated glass displays,
grinders, guys in aprons wielding knives, and meat. What I wasn't
expecting were hot dogs. I thought at a butcher I'd have to go with steak
or the like, but I was pleasantly surprised to find I could stick with
our regular tailgate fare, albeit locally-grown fare. Made from 100%
beef, the hot dogs were a foot long and dense. The butcher wrapped up a
pound ($10 if you're looking to plan a tailgate in the near future) in
butcher paper and sent me on my way.
Within hours, we were grilling up the hot dogs on the new tailgating grill my parents gave me for Christmas (they really get me). Because a pound only came out to five footlong hotdogs, I cut them in half to spread the wealth. Our friend, Jessica, pitched in by supplying condiments and white bread as the Dollar General was out of hot dog buns. Nothing quite says foodie, alternative, or earth-saving like white bread after all. The hot dogs were much better than your typical Oscar Meyer; possibly, all the grease that dripped off of them had something to do with that. The denseness one could feel just holding the meat certainly came from the hot dogs being stuffed full of delicious, delicious fat. Within minutes, all ten were gone. I like to think it had a lot to do with my cooking and not the fact it had taken me two hours to assemble the grill. If so, Top Chef a new cheftestant is ready to compete.
