The Butcher Knows All

December 25, 2007

So, I’m buying some Spencer rib eye at the local butcher, and the kid helping me hasn’t been working there very long.  He takes the cut of meat over to his boss, who looks to be about sixty and is gruff.  I can’t make out their conversation, until I hear the boss bark at the kid “okay, first of all, you need to settle down, because you’re about as nervous as a whore in church and you are going to get cut.  Now, have you weighed the steak?” Nodding, the kid told him the price, and without blinking the boss handed him the steak back and said “measure again.”  It turned out the kid grabbed the bone-in rib eye, one row to the right of the Spencer (boneless, and three dollars more per lb).  The boss knew just by holding one steak what steak it was, how much that steak weighed, what that cut cost per pound and what that all figured out to be.  When the kid mentioned a price four bucks higher than he was expecting, he knew immediately a mistake had been made.  Now, I’m not sixty, and I guess my job isn’t really analogous to working in a butchers, but Christ it would be impressive to one day be as ass-kickingly good at what I do as this elderly butcher was at his job.  I just hope I don’t get cut too often along the way.



  1. Hmm, I assumed you were fairly experience at handling meat.

  2. About 15 years ago, I went out to dinner one night at Morton’s Steak House in Mid-town NY. Morton’s was something we saved for special occasions, ’cause it was great, but a meal for two was about 1/3rd of a month’s rent.

    I always loved the fact that your waiter there was probably 80 years old and had been serving steaks since he was 10. They were the kind of grouchy guys, who, if you ordered something that might not be the best choice for the night, they’d make a little face at you and then they’d smile when you ordered something better. It had nothing to do with the price of what you ordered, just that they new their tip would suffer if you didn’t like your meal.

    So this last time I went, a really hot chick, all of 20 years old comes to take our order. I ordered the Rib Eye. 40 minutes later, she shows up with a NY Strip. I tell her she’s brought me the wrong steak. She tells me its the right steak. She fucking argues with me! I tell her to look at the guy’s meal on the table next to us. I say, “What did he order”? She says, “Rib Eye”. I say, “Does his steak look anything like the one on my plate?” She took my steak back and I only had to wait another 1/2 hour for my meal.

    Last. Time. at. Morton’s.

  3. Sorry, for the anrwy posts. Working between Christmas and New Years at an agency is like tending the Overlook Hotel in the off-season.

    But that deleted post was funny! Sorry Nathan.

  4. JOHNSON!!! JK WAS BEIN’ MEAN TA ME…AND DELETED IT..*sniff, sniff** **poopie-head**

    Can I have some cake?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: