The Peoria Packing paradox

A visit to a Chicago butcher shop

From Eddie Lakin — Blog by
May 20, 2009

I referred briefly to my recent visit to Peoria Packing in my review of the bacon I bought there, but didn’t really get into the whole experience of the place itself, which is a real trip and very thought provoking.

Most Americans are pretty squeamish about meat, despite the fact that we eat more of it than any other country in the world. At this point, we are really insulated from the process. Meat is fully broken down into only the most desirable parts, fully trimmed, and ready to go from the shrink-wrapped styrofoam tray right into the pan. Or fully cooked on the plate, if consumed in a restaurant. It’s been like that forever, for most of us, and we really don’t think about it too much.

Until we’re confronted with something different, like a European market where piles of offal or whole animals are just out in the open, for all to see. Even for someone like me, a chef who’s been dealing with larger primal cuts of meat for years, these cruder, more “real” displays represent an off-putting paradox, because I find myself curiously attracted and also, at the same time, repulsed.

I think this is true for most Americans, with varying degrees of attraction/revulsion, of course, and most simply avoid the revulsion side of the equation, which results in a sad state of affairs. We’ve managed, as a society, to hide and sanitize the reality of meat. Perhaps that’s why we eat so much of it.

A visit to Peoria Packing will cause one to ponder these things, because once you enter the butcher shop wing of this small grocery store across the street from their commercial packing house, you will be confronted with MEAT in a way that not too many Americans are accustomed to.

PP’s meat section is a large refrigerated room with big long tables running the length of it. The various cuts of meat are just piled onto the tables and customers (wearing the required latex gloves) just kind of rummage through the piles until they find what they’re looking for. The meat is very fresh, very inexpensive, and they carry cuts that are difficult to find elsewhere. I went specifically to get “packer cut” brisket for smoking. I also picked up some pork bellies (to make homemade bacon) and a few other things.

A lot of people have trouble handling this set-up. The online reviews of PP are mixed, with quite a few folks stating they’ll never go back due to the way the meat is just right out in the open for anyone to sneeze or cough on. This is true, of course, but I didn’t see this happening and I like to believe that people have enough sense not to do that. Most people do a pretty decent job of covering their mouths and not coughing or sneezing directly on me, so I’m not sure why expecting them to do the same in a roomful of meat is any more of a leap.

I think this sort of revulsion is how people deal with the fact that they are just not used to seeing meat displayed this way. It is jarring, I will admit, and seeing whole cow’s feet, pig’s heads, and other less common animal parts is definitely a bit of a shock as well. I think a lot of people are simply put off by the sheer real-ness of it, and so they use the “unsanitary” claim as a rationale for their revulsion, and as a justifiable reason to avoid that experience in the future.

Revulsion, however, is natural when confronted with meat. Revulsion is normal. Meat is a dead, decaying animal. It’s bloody, gruesome, and serves as a reminder of our own mortality. Yet most people eat it every day. I’ll go out on a limb and say that NOT feeling revulsion at the sight or thought of meat is what’s, in fact, abnormal.

We’re so unaccustomed, though, to this feeling, because the meat industry has done it’s level best to eliminate any and all reminders of death, blood, and the idea that these are animals we’re eating. And they’ve been very successful, with the full compliance of a willing populace, who values avoiding the cognitive dissonance of feeling both hunger and revulsion far more than it values coming to terms with our carnivorous impulses.

Up until recently, the luxury of not getting to know one’s meat up close and personal just wasn’t a real possibility for most people. It’s only in the last hundred years or so that we’ve acquired this new found squeamishness, which has gotten to the ridiculous point where some people act all grossed out even by chicken served on-the-bone, or with skin. Grow up, folks.

The conflict intrinsic to eating meat has long attracted deeper thinkers. Cultural anthropologists and sociologists like Mary Douglass and Claude Levi-Strauss have written reams on this fascinating subject. It’s human nature to be both repulsed and attracted by meat, and people have been dealing with it since back in the hunter-gatherer days. It’s just that here in modern-day America, we’ve made a new art form out of figuring out ways to avoid dealing with it.

The flip side of this is the head-to-tail movement that’s been steadily gaining momentum among chefs. In Chicago, chefs like Paul Kahan, Jason Hammel and Amalea Tshilds, and Paul Virant have been sourcing whole animals direct from the farmers who raise them and utilizing all of the various cuts, including the organs. There is no better way to pay tribute to an animal that has been slaughtered for food, these chefs say, than to ensure that nothing goes to waste.

These chefs feel it’s their responsibility to close the awareness gap created by the commercial meat industry, and they’re bypassing it entirely by going direct to farmers, buying whole animals, and doing the butchering themselves in their subterranean restaurant prep kitchens.

So the head is used to make pâté, the cheeks to make guanciale or braised for ravioli filling, the neck for coppa, the bellies are cured for bacon, and the feet used for cotecchino or for their natural gelatin. Blood sausage, tripe, and kidneys are making a comeback among foodies.

Before you wince and get all squeamish, stop and think for a moment that the bacon you enjoy is also attached to lungs, a heart, a head, and feet, and ask yourself what happens to all that stuff once you’ve eaten your ribs and bacon. If you’re not a vegetarian, animals are being killed to support your meat habit, and if you’re not eating anything but the prime cuts, you’re wasting big chunks of the animals that were killed to feed you.

The Reader’s Mike Sula did an extensive piece called The Whole Hog Project (scroll to the bottom and check out the reader comments to get a taste of how strongly people feel about the subject) which documents the paper’s purchase of a rare mulefoot pig, and follows Dee Dee’s (yes, they named it) life over the course of a year and a half, culminating in its slaughter. It was a fascinating and courageous exercise in journalism which cut right to the heart of America’s schizophrenic relationship with meat, and it was recently nominated (along with Mike Gebert’s Sky Full of Bacon video podcast that accompanied the Sula piece) for a prestigious James Beard Award.

It’s extremely thought-provoking stuff, and it’s a subject that most people would prefer to avoid thinking about. But it’s also perhaps a subject that we must consider more often, considering our love/hate relationship with food, the growing national obesity issue, the extent to which we consume highly processed foods and fast foods, and the myriad other ways in which we’re all dysfunctional in our relationships to what we eat. Myself included--I’m certainly no exception.

I’m not claiming, mind you, that I have the answers here, or that a visit to Peoria Packing will solve all your problems. But I do think that burying our collective heads in the sand and continuing to buy grocery store trays with shrink-wrapped beef tenderloin and BSCB is the exact wrong thing to do.

So, instead of mindlessly purchasing your animal proteins from the grocery store, take a trip over to PP and check the place out. Bring your kids and do your part to kind of de-mythologize the process for them, and start closing, if only by small increments, the awareness gap that the meat industry has spent decades building in their attempt to try and insulate us from the inner conflicts that are inherent in being carnivorous.

I was actually somewhat concerned that it might bother Henry, my four year old son, who made the trip with me, given that, in many of the books we read him, piggies and cows are cute barnyard animals that talk, sing, or drive the school bus. But it didn’t. After we got back, my wife asked him what he liked best about the place and he said, enthusiastically, “the pig heads!”

So there you go. This little field trip can be an opportunity to start grappling with these deeper issues of morality, mortality, and animal rights, or you could just look at it as a good, cheap option for bulk burgers, hot links, and ribs. Either way, Peoria Packing is worth a visit. Don’t forget to bring a cooler.

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1. by Kim on May 26, 2009 at 11:25 AM PDT

Eddie, thanks for this important post; we are going to nominate it as a finalist in our current blogging contest.

Although most of us reading this can’t make it in to Peoria Packing ourselves, we appreciate your vicarious experience and the questions (and realizations) it raises.

I’m going to crop the photo to fit our template, tinker with the headline for our format, and promote it on the home page today. Congratulations!

2. by TRISTA on May 26, 2009 at 1:33 PM PDT

You’ve tackled a paradox I’ve been musing over since February when a woman at a dinner party got all squeamish and disgusted when I suggested that we ought to see where our meat comes from, ie: visit a slaughter house like a Gourmet article last summer described. This woman had just finished eating a few slices of lamb. It made no sense to me that she’d be so disgusted by the mere thought of where her meat comes from. also

I love that chefs are buying whole animals and using the whole animal, and I agree that letting none of it go to waste is how best to honor the animal. It’s probably the best way to feed our country’s meat craze but use a little less land, water, and animals to do it.

Finally, even though I don’t eat meat, I was surprised that I found the “offal” photo of outdoor meat rather pretty--I’d expected to be kind of shocked, but it seems more natural in that photo.

Thanks for a great article.

3. by Eddie Lakin on May 26, 2009 at 2:04 PM PDT

Thanks, Trista, for the kind comments. The offal photo is pretty mostly because the light was good when I took it.

And thanks, also, Kim for the nomination. I’m honored to be considered, and, as a new arrival to the site, flattered to be in the company of the many excellent writers you have contributing here.

4. by Diane Lassen, RN, HHC on May 26, 2009 at 3:06 PM PDT

As a vegetarian who used to work in the meat room as a meat wrapper for 3 years, I had to giggle at the notion of people really not thinking about or knowing how meat really looks! Back in the 80’s, we still had “hanging meat” and the butchers deboned and actually butchered meat! People nowadays don’t know what meat looks like before it is all cut up, cleaned up, and cryvacked and packaged. Maybe if more people really saw that meat was, well, animals! they might choose to eat more vegetables! WOnderful article. Thank you!

5. by Rachael Warrington on May 27, 2009 at 6:14 AM PDT

Great article! I live in Kansas where there are more meat packing plants then trees hehehehe.
We are so good at not looking at our meat. I am a food service manager for a private school, we served real chicken thighs, bone on. I was shocked that the kids refused to eat it because it still had the bones in it! Thanks chicken mcnuggets! They would eat it once we removed the bones. I am serving it again this year LOL! They will learn.

6. by Carrie Oliver on May 27, 2009 at 2:48 PM PDT

What a great and thoughtful post, thank you. Noting some of the comments above, I had no idea that people were so out of touch with food that they’d freak at a bone-in chicken thigh!

While it may not yet be a national trend, I have found an increasing number of people very willing to engage in a conversation about the source of their meat and how it made it to their plates. Due to the nature of my job, I talk openly with people about the slaughter and butchering process on a daily basis. In general, what seems to be of greatest interest is learning that best practices (low stress) lead to better taste and texture (i.e. it’s not just a feel good thing). Also, showing pictures such, as the ones you included above, are an important part of the dialog. Yes, people may wince at first but it makes us more human, I think, to understand and respect the fact that our food - whether flora or fauna - was once alive.

7. by zegg on May 28, 2009 at 8:42 AM PDT

Funny, my kids seem to be less squeamish about their meat than many adults (including their dad). They think chicken tastes much better when it’s “on-the-bone” (mostly I think because then they’re allowed to eat it with fingers), and when I serve whole fish they want to see how the gills work, and wiggle the eyes around (putting my husband off his dinner). I think it’s good to come to terms with the fact that if you eat meat you are eating a real animal, just as any carnivore in nature does.

8. by Hank Sawtelle on May 28, 2009 at 4:54 PM PDT

GO EDDIE!!!

9. by foodcreate on May 28, 2009 at 6:22 PM PDT

Great article!I grew up in Chicago and my dad and I would go every other saturday to meat packing co.
I love it! You brought me back memories.
Thanks for this wonderful article.

and you can visit me if I can visit you:)

Welcome!
foodcreate

10. by Andria Crowjoy on May 29, 2009 at 3:34 PM PDT

We grow our own meat and struggle with squeamishness from next of kin, our kids, random nearby folk who theoretically get it, but can’t understand how we’d do in our own. I want to know exactly how my meat lived and died, and this is the only guarantee. Thanks for a post that helps me put some logic behind my intuition.

11. by Fasenfest on May 30, 2009 at 7:14 AM PDT

Great post. I think it is very true that we have become distanced from the basic knowledge of meat production and butchering. Some of that, however, has to do with cost and ease of systems promoted by the meat industry and not the consumer. Fact is, I think industries efforts have led to our ignorance as consumers.

I recently read an old N.Y. Time article about the end of traditional butchering. I remember one quote by an old-school artisan that it would take years to train a true butcher but a day to train a meat cutter. And meat cutters are all we have behind the meat counters at most stores - fancy or otherwise. I know this all too well because in researching a class we were teaching “How to buy your meat from a farmer” I wanted to discuss the cuts of meat you could get the processor to package. What I discovered is that store cutters and larger processors have gone to some pretty generic cutting practices. What would we know about that? Would any of us (or them as a matter of fact) know the difference between a blade roast and a seven bone roast (for example) even though they both come from the chuck and offer different tenderness and value? The point is, consumer ignorance (if that is the right word) has allowed an industry to transform a skilled trade into a profit driven system. It is worth considering what came first - our ignorance or their objective.

I remember as a child my mother teaching me these things. How one could by a blade roast (a cross section cut from the chuck) when it was on sale and bring it home to “butcher out” and create tender steaks, stew meat and some ends for ground beef all from within that one cut. She knew how to make good on a less expensive cuts - cows tongue and calf’s foot and the meals they would offer. These cuts are simply not in the meat case anymore. Look and ask and you will see the response.

Trying to find a seven-bone roast or blade (forget about the tongue or foot) or any butcher around here who could get it for me (I wanted to show my students how the chuck cuts and bone shapes varied the further it went down the back) was a feat onto itself. I had to convince a store to order in a whole pre-packaged cut (A-20 to be exact) bone-in and wait till someone who knew how to slice this cut came in. It was all so very complicated and caused a lot of confusion. First there was the two week wait for the “special cut” then the wait till the person who could cut it - and cutting it was simply running in through a saw, nothing fancy or akin to traditional butchering.

So what am I saying is, that even if you do want to use different cuts, even if you want to order your meat from a farmer, you better spend some time learning about the cuts that are available though not generally offered. What you will be offered is something that is generically referred to as a chuck roast - two, three, or four pounds and the like. Actually, trying to figure all this out gave me a headache but it was worth it. I was amazed how little the folks behind the counter know about meat. Really, if you ask most of them where those boned-out roasts or steaks come from on the cow they would not know. I have asked - they didn’t. Even the helpful folks at my local local store didn’t know . But I doubt they were taught the difference. Remember, most folks are cutters not butchers. Actually, when they get their big bags of beef in from the processing plants they are generally boned out except for the traditional steaks we are all familiar with. But seeing the bones is important. In fact, makes all the difference in the world if you are wanting to get a good, flavorful and budget friendly cut.

What most good old cookbooks will tell you is that to be a good consumer you need to have a basic knowledge of bone structure so you can tell the difference in the cuts of meat as they are offered in the butcher’s case. But most bones are removed so how could you tell the different between a pin bone or a round bone or a flat bone steaks (all steaks available from the loin end). As it turns out, the one with the pin bone will be the most tender since it is closer to the short loin but who would know any of this? Is anyone taught this? It will not be the meat cutters who tell you cause even they do not know.

Getting to know and understand your meat is not just an ethical responsibility (if you are inclined to eat meat) but a practical one as well. It makes you a better consumer and cook, it raises the bar for the industry who has dumbed it down for their ease and profit margins (traditional butchering takes skill and time). Maybe when we stop being so squeemish we will become better shoppers and, as a result, allow for the return of the old-skilled trade of butchery. Like almost all other trades, it has disappeared from our culture.

One other thing to mention, though buying your beef from a sustainable farmer is a great bonus if you can do it, it will not necessarily insure you will get great beef (or pork) or that you will get the cuts you really want. Generally the meat processor (who the farmer will ship it to) is going to cut it up the way most folks are familiar with and sadly most folks are not that familiar with cuts anymore.

I recently ordered on line a book called Cutting Up in the Kitchen by Merle Ellis that went a long way to explain lots of this. But just because you know it will not mean the meat counter will get it for you. Again, it is worth pondering what came first, the industries’ streamlining and dumbing down of a system or our own lost knowledge base.

So thanks, Eddie, for taking that trip. I would definitely be into it. These days all I can do is stand at the meat counter at the grocery store and imagine where those boneless cuts might have come from. I think they all think I’m nuts but I guess I’m just meat curious. This year I have a half a cow coming from a local farmer and I get to have it cut the way I want- yipee.

12. by TRISTA on Jun 2, 2009 at 3:20 PM PDT

Eddie & others--I thought you’d all appreciate this thought from MFK Fisher in “How to Cook a Wolf”:

Why is it worse, in the end, to see an animal’s head cooked and prepared for our pleasure than a thigh or a tail or a rib? If we are going to live on other inhabitatns of this world we must not bind ourselves with illogical prejudices, but savor to the fullest the beasts we have killed.

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