After much discussion at work, it was decided by my co-workers during a secret meeting to which I was not invited, that I need to attempt to make my own bacon.
Sourcing the supplies (Prague Powder, maple syrup, etc.) was easy. What was more difficult was finding pork belly. None of my local grocery stores carry it and the only recommendations I had were two local farmer's markets. Since these markets are only open 7-4 on Tuesdays and Fridays, and I work during the day that doesn't help.
As depression set in, I remembered passing a small butcher store on my way to work one morning when I had to take a detour because the Interstate was blocked. I decided to stop in this morning on my way and see what they had to offer.
Now, in my mind I'm picturing walking into a dimly lit place with a funky odor and a very large man in a bloody apron with a clever in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The funky odor may be coming from meat... may be from the dude behind the counter. In my mind he's acting as though I'm interfering with his work if I ask a question. What can I say, I have an active imagination and some minor social anxiety.
Nothing could have been further from the truth. I cautiously walked through the door and was amazed. This little store was as clean as an operating room with a well-lit display case stuffed with all kinds of meaty goodness. Two young ladies were behind the counter, one was tidying up the display case and the other was actually hand-cutting steaks. There may or may not have been harp music, it's all just a little hazy at this point.
"Hi, good morning! How can I help you?" was the greeting as opposed to the "Whaddya want Mac?" that I was expecting. <yes, in my imagination the butcher is from the 1920's>
Me: "I was wondering if you sold pork belly?"
"We sure do! I don't have any on hand today. We usually have it on Thursdays and Fridays but if you want to order some we can get it for you whenever you like!".
<SCORE!>
Me: "Great, how about 6 pounds, can I pick it up on Saturday?"
"No problem at all, would you like us to skin that for you"
<...at this point I'm starting to swoon>
Me: "Yes, please. Will that come as one single piece or could I get it in one-pound chunks?"
"However you'd like it!... So that's 6 one-pound pieces of belly...skin off...picking it up on Saturday?"
Me: "That would be great thanks!"
"No problem - we'll see you Saturday morning!" and I give her my contact info.
<I'm figuratively floating on air right now I'm so happy. As I turn to walk out the door a thought occurs to me...>
Me: "You don't happen to sell tri-tip, do you?"
<Now please bear in mind that I've asked about tri-tip at 4 other places locally all of whom acted as if I asked if they carry tennis racquets and Nokia cell phone chargers>
"Sure do... actually I'm going to be cutting one as soon as I'm done with these strip steaks"
<pondering how my wife will react when I tell her I proposed to a butcher I just met>
Me: "ok... thanks, I've been having trouble finding them anywhere locally"
"Yeah, they've been mainly a west-coast cut but we started doing them a few years ago along with flatiron steaks."
Me: "Flatiron steaks?"
"Yes sir - these right here <comes around counter to show me a BEAUTIFUL cut of meat in the case> are flatiron steaks. We like them more than ribeyes, just cook them on high-heat for about 4 minutes a side... beautiful medium rare and tender!"
<Now I'm wondering if they would mind if I just pulled up a chair for a few hours and asked questions, or perhaps just applied for a job>
Me: "Uh... ok, thanks. I have to get to work. See you Saturday."
"OK bye - thanks for stopping in, have a great day!"
<I already have>
​
Sourcing the supplies (Prague Powder, maple syrup, etc.) was easy. What was more difficult was finding pork belly. None of my local grocery stores carry it and the only recommendations I had were two local farmer's markets. Since these markets are only open 7-4 on Tuesdays and Fridays, and I work during the day that doesn't help.
As depression set in, I remembered passing a small butcher store on my way to work one morning when I had to take a detour because the Interstate was blocked. I decided to stop in this morning on my way and see what they had to offer.
Now, in my mind I'm picturing walking into a dimly lit place with a funky odor and a very large man in a bloody apron with a clever in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The funky odor may be coming from meat... may be from the dude behind the counter. In my mind he's acting as though I'm interfering with his work if I ask a question. What can I say, I have an active imagination and some minor social anxiety.
Nothing could have been further from the truth. I cautiously walked through the door and was amazed. This little store was as clean as an operating room with a well-lit display case stuffed with all kinds of meaty goodness. Two young ladies were behind the counter, one was tidying up the display case and the other was actually hand-cutting steaks. There may or may not have been harp music, it's all just a little hazy at this point.
"Hi, good morning! How can I help you?" was the greeting as opposed to the "Whaddya want Mac?" that I was expecting. <yes, in my imagination the butcher is from the 1920's>
Me: "I was wondering if you sold pork belly?"
"We sure do! I don't have any on hand today. We usually have it on Thursdays and Fridays but if you want to order some we can get it for you whenever you like!".
<SCORE!>
Me: "Great, how about 6 pounds, can I pick it up on Saturday?"
"No problem at all, would you like us to skin that for you"
<...at this point I'm starting to swoon>
Me: "Yes, please. Will that come as one single piece or could I get it in one-pound chunks?"
"However you'd like it!... So that's 6 one-pound pieces of belly...skin off...picking it up on Saturday?"
Me: "That would be great thanks!"
"No problem - we'll see you Saturday morning!" and I give her my contact info.
<I'm figuratively floating on air right now I'm so happy. As I turn to walk out the door a thought occurs to me...>
Me: "You don't happen to sell tri-tip, do you?"
<Now please bear in mind that I've asked about tri-tip at 4 other places locally all of whom acted as if I asked if they carry tennis racquets and Nokia cell phone chargers>
"Sure do... actually I'm going to be cutting one as soon as I'm done with these strip steaks"
<pondering how my wife will react when I tell her I proposed to a butcher I just met>
Me: "ok... thanks, I've been having trouble finding them anywhere locally"
"Yeah, they've been mainly a west-coast cut but we started doing them a few years ago along with flatiron steaks."
Me: "Flatiron steaks?"
"Yes sir - these right here <comes around counter to show me a BEAUTIFUL cut of meat in the case> are flatiron steaks. We like them more than ribeyes, just cook them on high-heat for about 4 minutes a side... beautiful medium rare and tender!"
<Now I'm wondering if they would mind if I just pulled up a chair for a few hours and asked questions, or perhaps just applied for a job>
Me: "Uh... ok, thanks. I have to get to work. See you Saturday."
"OK bye - thanks for stopping in, have a great day!"
<I already have>
​
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