Chef Bruce Wieszala
The Chef as Artisanal Butcher ~
Utilizing the Whole Animal from Nose to Tailby Christa Glennie Seychew
“One...two...three!” On three, the chef and his sous grunt as they lift the hog out of the cooler on the back of the truck. Fresh from the butcher, the 200 pound pink-skinned animal has arrived at the back door of this downtown Buffalo restaurant--replete with blurry, tattoo-like government inspection stamps on its skin--to become part of the menu. Just a few days ago it was living on a farm in Lockport, a farm which raises rare, heritage breed hogs for the well-respected fine dining restaurant community in Manhattan. Until this year, that is.
While farmer Rich Tilyou of T-Meadow Farm is happy to sell his animals to Manhattan chefs, he’s found that there’s a market for them here, too. And in this case, he doesn’t have to sell them live to another farmer for processing closer to New York City, or cut-by-cut at a farmers market. This year, in Western New York, he’s found chefs who want to buy the animal whole, “breaking it down” or “fabricating” it in their licensed kitchens and processing it from snout-to-tail for their clientele.
Breaking down entire animals in restaurant kitchens was certainly commonplace in the early part of the last century, and in recent years it has become a highly-regarded practice among skilled chefs all over the country. The internet is laden with blogs, articles and video clips of chefs working diligently (and often breathlessly) over carcasses in their kitchens. Hands-on instruction manuals pepper the shelves of national book retailers, and untraditional meat-worshipping chefs like Chris Cosentino (OffalGood.com) have made their way into the national spotlight. Recently, a story outlining the concept of butchers as celebrities graced the pages of the New York Times, suggesting that the hallowed Brooklyn-based Marlow & Daughter’s Butcher Shop are front-runners for the moniker of Rockstar Butcher. In my opinion, this title undeniably belongs to Dario Cecchini, Italy’s old-world artisanal butcher, so well-respected by food cognoscenti that his last name is dropped when they reference him, resulting in a title more akin to a wrestler. In these circles he is known simply as “Dario the Butcher.”
But talented butchers like Dario and the staff at Marlow & Daughters, who were your everyday, every town butchers 100 years ago are a dying breed today. This is particularly true here in America where the industrialized food system has evolved to conveyor-belt processing not unlike the method used for assembling shoes or computers. This evolution has separated chefs from their suppliers and consumers from their food. In their world (and ours), meat cuts arrive individually cryovaced, sharing a cardboard box with dozens of other cookie-cutter loins or chops, all from different animals, and often, different “farms.” Most of the chefs in our region who are working with farmers to locally source animals are doing it because they love it, but also because they really have no other viable option.
Western New York slaughterhouses with skill and respect for the art of breaking down fine, quality hogs, cows or lamb are either nonexistent or unlicensed for resale. Those processors that are licensed have waiting lists that extend for months and months, crowded with requests not from farmers, but from hunters for the dressing of deer. Many of our farmers are forced to drive their animals to long-awaited processing dates at locations outside of the state. This method is not beneficial for anyone. The animal arrives at the processor scared from its long journey, the farmer endures tremendous expense, the money for the processing winds up in the economy of a state other than our own, and the chef is left with a product tainted by the very real flavor of fear and the increased cost of the process. Additionally, the ways in which the animals are portioned or prepared are often not what chefs are seeking. Beef cheeks, one of the most prized parts of the animal, cannot be harvested from cows because they are ruined by the slaughtering process used by area processors. The modern cuts that diners are looking for--like the hanger steak, flat iron steak or belly--are unfamiliar to most processors. Requests for trotters, heads and offal--all used to make delicious charcuterie--are often met with shock.
This circumstance is not unique to Western New York. The nation is embracing the local food movement and consumers are becoming more aware of where their food comes from. However, the food chain which existed in nearly every community 75 years ago has revealed itself to be utterly broken. In almost every state in the nation, proponents of the movement are looking to rebuild the path from farm to consumer. On that path, livestock processors, canning facilities, cold-storage units and other elements necessary to creating a safe and sustainable year-round supply of healthy, local food are sorely missing. Mobile slaughterhouses, community-supported agriculture models and other innovative concepts have worked to replace links in the chain. But here in Western New York, we are still waiting.
Pioneering chefs and farmers in our region have refused to allow these inefficiencies and inequities get in the way. They have found a way to legally skirt the dysfunctional system, a method which has proven to be rewarding in countless ways for everyone involved. That method is the in-kitchen processing of whole animals, be they fowl, lamb, hog or cow.
Today’s delivery to Chef Bruce Wieszala, a trailblazer in our region, ends in an act of homage and respect. “I have found a huge difference between locally raised animals when compared to commercially raised [animals]. Especially pigs. First you can see it in the fat content and color of the meat. Commercially raised pigs have very little fat and the meat is pale and anemic looking. When I get [local] pigs, the fat back is nice and thick and the meat has this beautiful pink color to it. Then there is the flavor. It's just so much more flavorful. It tastes like real pork and that extra fat really helps bring out that flavor. You can tell these were happy pigs, and happy pigs equal delicious pigs.”
Chef Wieszala finds a way to turn virtually every inch of this beautiful, well-raised animal into delicious and nourishing food for his guests. His careful study of the old world curing and smoking techniques of his predecessors means that his guests look forward to the monthly arrival of the T-Meadow’s hog, and reap the benefits of Wieszala’s commitment with every bite. Economically, the restaurant’s effort pays for itself in spades as the chef is able to cover the cost of the carcass with the sale of the charcuterie, resulting in pure profit on the entree cuts like chops and loins. All of the scraps are used in stocks, sauces and other applications at no cost. The farmer, Rich Tilyou, reduces the stress and strain to himself and the animal through limited travel and minimal processing. Then there are the added bonuses of the pride Tilyou feels when his farm’s name is found on the restaurant’s menu and the kinship he and Chef Wieszala have developed out of their mutual respect for the animal and for one another.
In Forestville, David and Gail Reino of Raisin Acres are expecting to sell nearly a cow a week to Buffalo restaurateur Tucker Curtin. Curtin currently sources Raisin Acre’s naturally-raised, hormone free beef for burgers and other tasty items for the menus of all three of his restaurants. Seeing the benefits both in terms of quality control and economics made Curtin an early adopter of the whole animal method. After a trip to the pristine Southern-Tier farm and a taste of the Raisin Acres’ ground beef, Curtin knew that investing both his time and his money in setting up his large restaurant kitchens for processing was the way to go. After less than a year of processing his own cows, Curtin has received national media exposure, rave reviews from customers, and a sense of pride from his decision to take this journey. He’s been inspired to source local eggs, fruit, poultry and produce for his growing restaurant empire. Ultimately he hopes to find local sources for almost all of his needs.
Integral to this concept here and elsewhere is the idea of respecting the animal both in life and in death. On both farms, T-Meadow Farm and Raisin Acres, the animals are raised in the most humane of environments. They spend their days roaming free over beautiful pastures and grazing or foraging on fresh grass; they are free from the feces-covered feedlots of the industrial agricultural system. They are not subjected to hormone or antibiotic treatments. They are venerated and well-attended. After they meet their demise at the hands of a professional, the quality of the life they’ve led is evidenced in the flavor and texture of meat. If you disagree with an omnivorous diet, this may seem unimportant to you. Perhaps it even sounds like a justification. But I liken the reverence chefs such as Wieszala have for these animals as something akin to a spiritual experience. There is a tangible note of esteem and regard in Chef Wieszala’s voice when he speaks of Tilyou and his animals.
A qualified artisanal butcher and processing facility would be a dream come true to our region’s dedicated livestock farmers like the Reinos and Tilyou--and the chefs, too. The stories of Wieszala and Curtin do not stand alone. Other area chefs are just as passionate about local livestock, and with them they bring their own sensibilities, skill sets and needs. Never in my life did I think I would see three WNY chefs bargaining over hog heads in a recent Facebook transaction, but it happened just this past winter. A talented local processor would solidify the farmer-chef transactions, but it would also make it possible for these remarkable and humanely-raised meat products to find a home in local supermarkets and specialty stores. Ultimately, the bottleneck created by increased consumer demand and too few qualified processors would be somewhat alleviated and Western New York would be one step closer to reconnecting its broken food chain.
Until then, it is imperative that those of us who are passionate about local farmers or the chefs who lovingly craft local food into remarkable edibles support it with our voices and our palates at every turn. As consumers, we have the power to make a difference and in some cases, we should feel obliged to do so.
