Mary, that was a very good piece on the lost art of butchering! My roots are Ost Friesian German, and like you, where we came from you ate everything but the squeal of the pig! It was simply the business of survival for the people in the old country, and the extension of what you always did when you got here. So I grew up on "parts" brains, liver, heart, tongue, head cheese, ox tail, that sort of thing. I wasn't much for blood sausage, but that too was available. We were never as adept as the Czech folks at making something out of nothing I was later to find out, moving to Cedar Rapids in the 70's when "Czech town" still had two butcher shops that sold pig ears, pig tails and pig snouts! Back at home on the farm growing up we would ocassionally butcher a hog and the business of burchering chickens was often a family affair with everybody taking part. Kids picking chickens, Dad whacking off the heads, and my mom, aunts and my grandmother in the basement with meat scissors in hand, gutting and parting out chicken or singeing off the pin feathers, then wrapping them up in freezer paper and into the freezer! Amazing how quickly 50 or 60 chickens could be dispatched, cleaned and turned in Sunday dinner! I haven't even done chickens in over 40 years and since I quit hunting I haven't even cleaned a squirel or a rabbit in fifty years! Thanks for the memories! My German grandmother had a recipe for what she called "Stip" that would be something we would eat at this time of the year. When you butched a hog you had this thick fatty bacon and we would fry it down till it was relatively crisp and eat that, then we would add flour and black strap molasses to the drippings and make a gravy out of it, spread it on bread and eat that for those long cold walks to country school in the morning! Today, doctors would be charging my folks with "child abuse" for attempting to kill us with grease and coolestoral!
Mary, loved this. We have always had a tradition of eating fried liver and gravy for Christmas morning. This stemmed from long ago with my grandmother’s family slaughtering the day before Christmas to provide meat for the holidays. The organ meat was the first to spoil before refrigeration so they fried it up. For years it was a way to test boyfriends and girlfriends’ adventurousness and weed out the picky ones.
Ah, another Manning person! So happy to hear of your memories of the butcher shop. I'd forgotten about those lockers! That was fun going in there in the summer in my winter parka. I'm glad you enjoyed the piece.
Like you, I grew up in Manning and remember the butcher shop of which you speak. I remember the large butcher blocks, the raw-meat smells of the place, and the freezing locker where we stored our meat in small locked cages. Thank you for these beautiful memories...
Wonderful story Mary. When Larry and I started farming we had the experiences you shared here. Larry even made and ate blood sausage. I never did! Grateful for our neighbors and Mother Earth News.
Mary, that was a very good piece on the lost art of butchering! My roots are Ost Friesian German, and like you, where we came from you ate everything but the squeal of the pig! It was simply the business of survival for the people in the old country, and the extension of what you always did when you got here. So I grew up on "parts" brains, liver, heart, tongue, head cheese, ox tail, that sort of thing. I wasn't much for blood sausage, but that too was available. We were never as adept as the Czech folks at making something out of nothing I was later to find out, moving to Cedar Rapids in the 70's when "Czech town" still had two butcher shops that sold pig ears, pig tails and pig snouts! Back at home on the farm growing up we would ocassionally butcher a hog and the business of burchering chickens was often a family affair with everybody taking part. Kids picking chickens, Dad whacking off the heads, and my mom, aunts and my grandmother in the basement with meat scissors in hand, gutting and parting out chicken or singeing off the pin feathers, then wrapping them up in freezer paper and into the freezer! Amazing how quickly 50 or 60 chickens could be dispatched, cleaned and turned in Sunday dinner! I haven't even done chickens in over 40 years and since I quit hunting I haven't even cleaned a squirel or a rabbit in fifty years! Thanks for the memories! My German grandmother had a recipe for what she called "Stip" that would be something we would eat at this time of the year. When you butched a hog you had this thick fatty bacon and we would fry it down till it was relatively crisp and eat that, then we would add flour and black strap molasses to the drippings and make a gravy out of it, spread it on bread and eat that for those long cold walks to country school in the morning! Today, doctors would be charging my folks with "child abuse" for attempting to kill us with grease and coolestoral!
Great, Steve. I'm glad the piece was evocative for you. Very interesting to hear about your own experience.
Mary, loved this. We have always had a tradition of eating fried liver and gravy for Christmas morning. This stemmed from long ago with my grandmother’s family slaughtering the day before Christmas to provide meat for the holidays. The organ meat was the first to spoil before refrigeration so they fried it up. For years it was a way to test boyfriends and girlfriends’ adventurousness and weed out the picky ones.
Ah, another Manning person! So happy to hear of your memories of the butcher shop. I'd forgotten about those lockers! That was fun going in there in the summer in my winter parka. I'm glad you enjoyed the piece.
Yours is a great story, Suzanna!
Thanks, Denise! Oh, I love blood sausage.
Like you, I grew up in Manning and remember the butcher shop of which you speak. I remember the large butcher blocks, the raw-meat smells of the place, and the freezing locker where we stored our meat in small locked cages. Thank you for these beautiful memories...
A Short Panegyric
Mark Strand
Now that the vegetarian nightmare is over and we are back to
our diet of meat and deep in the sway of our dark and beauty-
ful habits and able to speak with calm of having survived, let
the breeze of the future touch and retouch our large and hun-
gering bodies. Let us march to market to embrace the butcher
and put the year of the carrot, the month of the onion behind
us, let us worship the roast or the stew that takes its place once
again at the sacred center of the dining room table.
Wonderful story Mary. When Larry and I started farming we had the experiences you shared here. Larry even made and ate blood sausage. I never did! Grateful for our neighbors and Mother Earth News.