The Big Mac Starter Kit

     The year was 2007.   We decided to homeschool our son, James, for a variety of reasons in which I will spare the readers since that in a whole different blog in itself.  He was in Kindergarten that year.  He loves to learn but he has a hard time staying still.  I taught him to read as he ran laps around our livingroom.  Every time he ran a lap I would hold up a new sight word card, "The" and he would say, "The" and take another lap.  I would hold up "That" and he would read "That" out loud and continue with another lap.  It wasn't a traditional way of teaching someone to read but somehow, at that time, his moving kept his brain moving too.

     I discovered a homeschooling group that was meeting on the other side of the county.  I was pleased that it wasn't too far away from me.  The mom's there were wonderful and the kids really enjoyed getting together once a week to learn as a group.  All the mom's helped out and taught a little something.   At times the older kids would bring in a dessert that they learned to make to share with all of us. 

     We decided to take a trip to Ebel's General Store in Falmouth, Michigan.  Falmouth is a small little town in Missaukee County in the northern lower peninsula of Michigan.  Ebel's is a USDA approved processing facility.  You can bring in your cow, pig, sheep, goat or other meat animal and they will process it for you the way you want it cut up and vacuum seal it.  They will even process the meat into sausages and a variety of jerkys and even smoke it.  We were going to tour their processing plant. 

     I had already been in a pork processing plant in Chicago when my husband, Brian, was making a delivery and that was quite interesting (June 6, 2012 blog - Amityville Slaughter House).  I was excited about getting a real tour of a processing plant.  I want to see how a cow goes from eating grass out in the field to my sloppy joe. 

     We all met at Ebel's and the owner set up a nice lunch for all of us, pulled pork sandwiches, cheeses, chips and soda's.  The fellowship was nice and the owner mentioned that he usually gave lunch before the tour as people may not be hungry afterwards.  He talked about how the pulled pork sandwiches we are eating were processed there at Ebel's.   Soon they gathered us up to go into another room. 

 Beef!  (James age 5)

     Everyone had to put on a full body covering.  We were handed paper hats with elastic trim on it and long paper coats.  The younger children had bags put over their coat sleeves so they won't walk around looking like dopey.  A few ladies who worked there offered to watch some of our younger children in the breakroom as the sights might be too disturbing for them to see.  We waved our younger children off as we headed through a set of doors that started our tour through the processing plant. 

     I don't recall everything we seen that day.  I remember being in a room and seeing the making of sausage.  He showed us the casing (or pig intestines) they put at the end of the tube and how it fills with the sausage meat.  The kids eeww'd and groaned at the realization of what the outside of the sausage is.   The sausages were taken to the smoker to get a rich spicy flavor added to it.  A few of the smokers were already in use. 

     We entered another room where the animals are put down.  Grates lined certain areas on the floor and cold hard cement on the other areas.  In the corner of the room there is a metal stall where the animals are herded into.  Chains  hooked to the metal bars attached to a harness an animal would wear.  Up near the ceiling hung large hooks to help carry the dead animal into the other room.  All was quiet and the owner had everyone's attention when he talked about how the animal was put down.  First they make sure the animal is healthy.  Then the animal is chained up to the stall so when the animal is dead it will be easier to move the animal.  He pulled out something that looked similar to an nail gun.  He told us for a cow they put it up to the forehead and pull the trigger and the cow is instantly dead.  There wasn't a cow there at the time for a demostration but said if we really are interested in seeing a full demostration that we can call ahead to see if they are processing that day to see how it goes in action.  Trust me, I was tempted.

     We moved out of that room and into a hallway.  He warned us that the next room might scare some of us or that others may not be able to handle what they are about to see.  Those who do not want to proceed forward can take a detour down the hall and catch up with the group in the next room.  A few people did just that.  I wasn't sure how James would react.  I wanted him to see the process of what happens next yet I didn't want to scare him.  I figured I would take him in slowly and if doesn't like it I would pull him away quickly.  The doors open to the next room.  A chill fills the air... from the coolers.   Rows of deskinned cows hang from ceiling.  I slowly remove my hand over James' eyes.  I was ready to cover them up again and to leave if he got scared.  But he was in awe of it all.

     "Are those cow's?"  he asked in amazement.

     "Well, they were."  I replied still trying to get a feel on how James is reacting to the sight before him.

     "That is so cool!  You can see the ribs!"  and he walks right up to one. 

James is impressed by the hanging beef.

     I catch him quickly so he doesn't touch the meat.  Up close we talk about the anatomy of the cow, where the back was, the legs, and where the head would of been.  I soon realized that James was not afraid of what he was seeing.  Perhaps at a tender young age of 5 he was realizing that this is food.  This is how we get our meat.  I look around, again, at the cold, hard, meat hanging down envisioning juicy roasts in the crock pot and tender steaks on the grill.  Those dead carcasses were looking tastier and tastier. 

     I don't remember much more of the tour.  I think my mind was still hanging with the racks of beef in the cooler.  Everyone received some jerky to take home that was made right there at Ebel's.  I am not much of a jerky eater so I brought it home for my older kids to try. 

     It was definitely a learning experience for this city girl and her son.  A person doesn't look out at a farm watching cows graze and think That's a Big Mac starter kit!   Seeing how it all worked helped me appreciate what goes into the making of our food that lays out before us.

    

    

Amityville Slaughter House

     I do not know why men think women are dainty creatures that needs protecting.  Perhaps some women do faint at the sight of blood or scream at the sight of a snake crawling across the floor but not me.  I was raised with the enjoyment of blood, guts, and gore.  While some girls I knew found gratification of looking at clothes and jewerly, I was finding pleasure in horror movies and getting down and dirty.  As a child my sister and I would watch the movie series Friday the 13th and our VCR had a slow motion button to it.  There was a scene where a cop ran through the woods trying to chase Jason Voorheis.  The cop came to a small run-down cabin.  He is looking through some things when Jason comes up behind him and slams the hammer claw into the back of the cops head.  My sister and I would click the slow motion button and watch how the cops eyes would look as if are popping out of his face once the hammer was entering the back of his head.  Morbid, I know, but my sister and I were laughing too hard to care.  My family is twisted.

     I was only dating Brian a few weeks when he asked if I wanted to join him in the semi-truck to make a pick up in Chicago.  It sounded exciting and it was.  Sitting up high in the semi-truck you can see everything.  You felt powerful and tall.  In Chicago traffic you can look down into people's cars and see what they are doing or little children will look up and beg for the air horn to be blown.  Sometimes Brian would blow it and the kids in the car would hoot with delight. 

     He was scheduled to pick up meat from a slaughterhouse in Chicago.  It was called the Amityville Slaughter House and it lived up to its name.  He told me to wait in the cab as he went inside to deal with the paperwork.  I looked around through the cab's windows and there wasn't much to look at.  Older looking cars were in the parking lot, weeds vined up the broken down fence that surrounded the building, and the building looked old.  I even watched a pig being escorted in the air by a Bobcat 4-wheeler across the parking lot.  Little did this pig know but its final ride would lead him become bacon and ham. Did my mouth just water, I thought.

     After a while an uncomforting feeling came across me.  I needed a bathroom.  Oh how I envied men who can just stand hidden in a corner to use it or relieve themselves in a bottle or jug.  God just did not make women that way.  I looked at the mulitple doors to the building.  I didn't know which door to go into.  I looked around for another business, perhaps a gas station would be nearby.  There was nothing but old, run-downed, two story homes.  Please God, let Brian come out soon! I anguished.  After what seemed like forever Brian came back to the truck to check on me.  The shippers were still messing with the paperwork.  I told him I needed to use the bathroom.  He asked if I could hold it.  I have him a look of urgency.  He begged me to hold it because this wasn't a nice place to use the bathroom.  "I don't care," I pleaded, "I am about to squat in front of this truck if I don't get to a bathroom now!"

     He comes around the truck and opens the door for me.  "I don't want you looking around.  Keep your eyes on the floor.  There is disgusting things in here." he says tenderly as we approach a set of doors.

     Disgusting things?  Did that ever get my curiousity going!  We entered the first set of doors and a lady sat behind a window with papers shuffled across her desk.  Brian asked where the bathroom was for me.  The lady gave him instruction through the factory maze. We entered another set of doors.  It was loud and smelled nasty.  As we rounded a corner the floor turned red.  It's wasn't paint either.  But I was mindful and still kept my eyes on the ground, mostly because I didn't want to step on the chunks that was litered on the ground. We entered another area and he told me that when he says "GO!" we have to move quickly forward.  I couldn't look down any longer.  The urge to look up was too great.  I told Brian I can handle this.  I looked up and gasped out loud.  Brian was so concerned and disappointed that the image I seen was terrifing to me.  On the contrary that was a gasp of excitment. 

     This is a part of our food chain that most people don't get to see and here I was observing it.  Up above were skinless headless pigs hanging on hooks through its feet cascading around on a system that looked like a cruel roller coaster ride.  It went from an upper level and down across the room we were in and into a lower level room for more processing.  As we passed through the room, we had to dodge between the hanging pig corpses.  It was thrilling.  A smile even emerged from my face which confused Brian.

     We went down a flight of grated stairs.  I placed my hands on the railing.  It was sticky and gooie feeling.  I knew it was because of pig blood.  I quickly let go of the railing.  Just because I found this experience interesting I didn't want to feel it.  We finally found the bathroom.  It wasn't pretty, to say the least.  It looked as bad as it did the slaughter house.  I didn't care.  I had to use it.  A toilet was a toilet and I was thankful.

     We made our way back up the sticky stairs, dodged the hanging carcas of pork, and back around to the lady at the window.  Brian walked me back to the truck apologizing for the sights that I seen and that a lady shouldn't of seen something to that degree.  I told him I found it rather interested and I liked it but he didn't understand how someone could like something so grusome.  I climbed back into the truck and Brian went back inside to finish up on the paperwork.  I sat there wishing how I could see the rest of the factory and how a pig goes from being carried on bobcat to becoming bacon on our breakfast plates.

     After some time Brian comes running to the truck.  "We have to go now!" he says urgently, "The inspectors are closing the factory down!  They just finished loading our truck and we have to leave before they lock up the gates."  He gets the truck moving fast and starts shifting gears.  A few other trucks were in line of leaving the premises quickly.

     We get back on the road and Brian says, "I bet after that you won't want to eat meat anymore."

     I looked at him, smiled, and replied, "Actually a grilled ham and cheese sandwich does sound good."  Then we rode off on the highway.  I think Brian then realized that I was different than the other girls he knew.