Knowing where your food comes from is good . . . right?

I had to laugh again today as I opened my emails to find not the usual GAP offer or Nordstroms sale but the quarterly email from my local farmer, Fritz Baumann Jr.   I note that his name as Junior as he is not your ¨old school¨ farmer that we all know and love but rather the next generation farmer and he knows the power of direct communication with his customers. 

The email had the basic information a consumer needs: how old the cow is, where it lived, how many kilos are expected from the cow at slaughter and that I can order 5kg, 10kg and 25kg  mixed packages of meat.  Attached was a lovely photo of the one year old grazing cow (see above) which will be slaughtered shortly as well as a 10 page powerpoint presentation explaining how wonderful the Limosin beef is as opposed to Angus beef, etc.   

I know. 

I know!

Seriously, I know. When I first started getting the emails, I thought is was going to lose it. I did not want to see a photo of THE cow I will be eating. I grew up in suburban Atlanta where you got your meat from the grocery store.  Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine meat even came from anything other than, well, the store.  But when I was 10 I do remember, however, that my dad bought a half of a pig and a quarter of a cow from ¨Uncle Leonard¨ in Indiana.   My dad rented a U-Haul trailer, packed that meat up in dry-ice and we hauled (that is why they call it U-Haul, right?) that meat down to Georgia.  A few days later my mom was making her famous pork chops from that little pig (prize winning hogs I was later told they were) and in the pan was the blood.  I cried that night when I realized that the meat came from . . . an animal.  

But I got over it (pretty quickly as my Drama Queen prone self does).  30 years  later I am a steak tartare loving gal.  Living in Europe and more specifically Switzerland, I have gained a greater appreciation for food.    Just two weeks ago on one of the rare days of warm temps and sun (this spring has been cold and rainy, unusually so), I was driving over the Hirzel and the cows were sauntering through the fields swinging their tales in apparent happiness.  As much as I chuckle when I get the email from Mr. Baumann, at least I know that I know the meat comes from a happy cows,  probably the happiest cows in the world.  You are what you eat.

En Guete!