A morning with the people who raise our beef
Trevor and Todd drove out to the station that supplies most of our beef. They came back with a better understanding of why a stew takes all afternoon.
Out on the station
The drive to the station took about forty minutes along a dirt road that Todd described as character-building. The country opened out into flat, pale grassland dotted with gidgee and bloodwood, and the sky seemed to go on for ever. The family who run the place were waiting on the verandah with a pot of tea and a plate of scones.
Trevor's reason for visiting was simple. He wanted to see where the beef comes from, and to ask the producers what they'd like him to do with it. The answer, delivered with a grin, was: cook it slowly, and don't ruin it with too much seasoning. He couldn't have asked for a clearer brief.
On the way home they stopped at the creek crossing for a thermos of tea and a long look at the sky. Todd said it was the first time in months he had heard nothing but wind. Trevor said it was the first time in months he hadn't been thinking about gravy.
What they saw
Cattle on open country
The herd moves across large paddocks and eats mostly native grasses, which gives the meat its flavour. In dry seasons the family trucks in extra feed, and in good years the cattle fatten naturally. Trevor says the difference shows up in the cheek and shin, the cuts he loves best.
How the beef is handled
The cattle are processed locally, and the beef is hung for a few days before being cut. The family doesn't hurry any part of the process. Trevor spent an hour with the butcher watching how the cuts are separated, and came home with a long list of notes and a bruised shin from the cattle yards.
What changes in the kitchen
Since the visit, the beef cheek pie has become richer, and the stew is cooked a little longer. Trevor also began buying more of the humbler cuts, because the family explained they are the ones that taste of the country. Guests may not notice the change, but the pot certainly does.