I am often asked: “What makes your beef better?” My answer: “It’s not. But it’s different.”

This is my full time job. Done with all of my heart, effort, all of my resources. My very best intentions. This is a start to finish beef operation. The animals are born, raised, and slaughtered with us. I can tell you the name of every animal inside that package you buy. Who his mom was. His granny. His older and younger siblings. His very best buddies. If he was a bottle calf, I can tell you how he took his bottles. If he was a ravenous little monster, or a little gentlemen that politely asked for more. I can usually tell you what the day was like when he was born, I’m often there. I can also tell you about the day he died; what the weather was like, who else was slaughtered that day, how he was thanked for providing me with a job, and you, with food. About the people that slaughtered him. How kind, gentle and efficient they are. Respectful that this was a living being mere seconds before their bullet turned him into food. 

It is different because I can tell you how my heart aches on the days leading up to slaughter. How guilty I feel selecting who sees their last sunrise in the morning. How I wince inside when the shot is fired and their eyes turn to milky glass. I can describe the quiet pride I feel when the well fleshed carcass hangs from the slaughter truck. Sans hide, head and limbs, it has gone from living being to beautiful food. Quietly, quickly, respectfully. Food I’m so excited to offer my community!

That pride fades quickly when the slaughter truck pulls away. Filled with beef, not long ago steers, watching me, wondering if I might have some special snacks for them. In its place, a hollow feeling. A pit. Sadness. Some say it gets easier with time. Looking at the congealed blood, the discarded bits of flesh littering the grass, I disagree. Ten years and it hasn’t. You know what? I hope it never does. If it ever gets easier, that’s the day my beef ceases to be different. I’ll have no answer to give when I’m asked what makes my beef better. Because it’s not. It’s different.