Chapter Six
The Bloody Divide
Larry
At age ten, Larry learned to separate flesh from bone on his first carcass.
The pig was ready for consumption. Like humans, animals developed rigor mortis after death.
You couldn’t butcher an animal in this stage, or the meat would be too tough.
His father hung the bodies in cold storage for three days.
He loved teaching Larry and proudly explained his system.
“They say you only need twelve hours to release the rigor, but not always. Most butchers use the eighteen-hour method, and it can go up to four days. Three days works best, and that’s why we have tender cuts that keep our customers returning for more.”
Larry hung on each word. There wasn’t a smarter man on earth.
“Always wear your rubber apron and gloves,” his father continued.
“Yeah, I know, I forget my gloves all the time, but if you put them on from the very beginning, it won’t happen to you.
It’s important that you greet the customers without blood stains on your hands and clothes.
If you forget, you need to wash quickly in the sink.
More importantly, wear a pristine white apron so they don’t think about what happens in the processing room. ”
The pig was laid out on the table. Larry watched as his father showed him how to use the bandsaw.
The low, rhythmic whir sliced through the spine, precisely halving the carcass into two symmetrical sides.
The air filled with the faint mist of bone dust as his father worked.
Larry had watched him do it enough times that it looked easy.
When his father handed over the saw so Larry could try, he did a decent job, but lacked the same precision as his hero.
Next, Larry was handed a heavy cleaver and given further instructions. He slammed it down with a thud, not quite severing the head like his father did in one swipe, but close. The repeated impact echoed in the quiet room.
His father brought out a smaller, more precise set of knives. Larry had watched him wield them with an economy of motion, his hands working with the grace of a surgeon. Larry’s work wasn’t as graceful, and his father laughed when he chided himself.
“You will learn,” his father said with pride. “If it were easy, the women would be doing this work.”
Larry continued slicing with the knife's blade, which was honed to a razor's edge. He cut along the natural seams of muscle and bone at the guidance of his father. With a clean, wet schlick, the large shoulders were finally separated from the torso.
“You did good, son, now the hind legs.”
Those separated easier because he was getting a feel for the blade.
He then peeled away the skin and thick layers of fat from the muscles with an almost hypnotic rhythm, revealing the deep red and pink meat beneath.
The carcass was now a collection of smaller cuts, but each had to be refined further.
“You must deftly navigate the contours of the meat,” his father said. “The boning knife is your friend, and will allow you to carefully work around joints and bones of the shoulders and legs.”
With intense concentration, Larry followed his instructions, and to his father’s delight, managed to free the entire muscle in a single piece.
After moving the large sections to a metal cart, the pork belly was laid flat on the butcher block. Larry trimmed away excess fat and squared off the edges, preparing it to be cured into bacon.
“You know, son, it’s been said that human meat tastes just like pig.” He winked. “But that’s something we’ll keep to ourselves.” This time he laughed in loud guffaws that made young Larry smile and laugh along with the man he worshiped.
“Each cut is to maximize yield and create the best-looking product,” his father continued after his laughter faded.
Larry went onto the next lesson, and finally, with the bones and trimmings set aside, he began portioning the remaining meat, creating the familiar roasts, steaks, and chops that would eventually be neatly arranged under the bright lights of the front display case.
The sounds created in the cutting room were the purposeful, rhythmic work of a craftsman transforming death into food.
Even at his young age, Larry was good at it. He loved the scent of blood and raw meat. It gave him a thrill like nothing else.