Re: When Meat is Your Destination by Pete Wells New York Times February 8, 2017
Dear Mr. Wells,
Your review of the restaurant White Gold Butchers certainly is long overdue. I have been searching for a place to find meat, meat, and more meat. I was beginning to think there was a shortage and that those pesky animal rights advocates had started to illuminate people about the torment of farm animals. But no, thank god—the torment still goes on. Kudos to the chefs for buying whole animals, but you didn’t say whether they buy them alive or dead. Why not give diners a real treat and let them choose the live animal and kill it then and there? How fresh its flesh will be! Who cares about screams and blood flowing and the aroma of death filling the room. Death is so good when it happens to something we can sink our teeth into. We can stand by and not just watch but grab some bread to sop up the blood—why not? we love it when it drips from the chunk of flesh on our plate. While eating, we diners can visualize what the meal looked like before its final agony to our greater enjoyment, since suffering adds that special zest to any meal.
I will be calling for my Valentine’s reservation today, not only because I love animals (ha ha to eat!) but because my health is still a little too good. I am still working on my gout, heart decease, and high bad cholesterol. I have a huge gut and am a good thirty pounds overweight, but I don’t care if I am starting to look like my dinner when it was alive. Who cares that meat has no fiber and I will get chronic constipation taking me to diverticulitis; I have had the pleasure of eating hearts and guts (offal they are called as you point out– what a quaint anglo-saxon word that sound just like the adjective that describes it) and know that I have the privilege as a homo sapien of tormenting and taking the life of other creatures and gobbling them up like the charming ogre of fairy tales. (Big grin showing my yellowing choppers, which are not exactly made to tear through flesh but work fine once the flesh is tenderized for my herbivore molars).
I will make sure to meet these creative chefs who have devoted their lives to cutting up animals and finding new ways to simmer the legs of babies (and the little ones do taste best—give me lamb and calf and piglet—the mother didn’t want her offspring anyway—better off in my tummy!)
Thanks again Mr. Wells, see you in the ICU and in hell (aka, White Gold Butchers)