Get Stabbed with a Meat-Sword at The Butcher & Larder

Yeah, take it.  You swallow that meat.  Swallow all of it.  Yeah, you know you love it……wait, what are we talking about again?  Oh yeah, somewhat new Chicago butcher shop (actually I haven’t the fucking foggiest whether or not this place is new, but it is new to me, and I am the only person in the world who counts, so it is fucking well new) the Butcher & Larder.  Located on Milwaukee in the Noble Square neighborhood (and I hope people have noticed just how fucking en fuego I am since I learned how to link shit on this blog), it is not a conspicuous store front.  If you decide to check it out, go south on Milwaukee from Division, and it is a little before Augusta on the west side of Milwaukee.  Once there, prepare yourself for a steaming hot meat injection.  Not like the one you got on spring break that one year in Cancun when you don’t remember anything after that guy Dave dropped an “aspirin, you know, for the hangover” in your margarita and you woke up 8 hours later on an abandoned beach naked and sticky…but kind of like that.  For years I frequented a venerable old butcher shop in Lincoln Park.  It is still a great store with fun employees and I hate to forsake them.  But forsake them I have.  In a meat waving contest, they just don’t measure up.  Everyone needs to question at some point: What quality of meat are you putting into yourself?  If your answer is “I don’t care”, then I guess you aren’t health conscious, taste sensitive, and more than likely your dad never showed you any affection.  Quite possibly your uncle Chester may have had some boundary issues.  But anyhoo, the Butcher & Larder is not pimping average, suspect meat.  You don’t need a condom for their meat.  B&L is butchering animals from producers that let livestock dance and twirl around the farm eating grass, like a shrooming hippy at a Phish concert.  They don’t buy animals from livestock prisons where the inmates are kept in squalid little cells festering in their own shit and fed hormones all day. 

My first trip to B&L was late in the afternoon on a Saturday, and by the time I arrived they were all fucked out….er I mean all sold out of most everything.  I picked up the last of the filet for the wife, then headed to my old standby shop for my own cut.  Per usual, I got a big fuck-you bone-in ribeye.  Grilled them up and guess what?  My ribeye tasted like a dog shit brownie compared to that filet.  It wasn’t that my steak was bad….it was that B&L’s was that good.  For all those assholes out there who claim there is no difference between organic food and food that was stepped on by 5 different dealers between Colombia and you, just give B&L a try.  Their ground chuck is hands-down the best I’ve ever eaten.  Yes, it is $6 per pound which is more than you’ll pay for gray, dodgy-assed meat lurking deep in the bowels of the butcher counter at Jewel or Dominick’s, threatening to cut people with a blade if they get too close.  And if you want to buy that shit and then spend 20 minutes making it edible with various kitchen minerals and compounds like a fucking chemist, then be my guest.  But if you want to form the patties, throw them on the grill as is, and then eat the best goddamned burger of your life, fork over the extra $2.00 and quit being such a cheap fuck your whole life.  Eat it slow, enjoy every swallow.  Make it sexy.  Beyond the aforementioned meat selections, they’ve got shit you haven’t even heard of.  Goat legs, sausages you can’t pronounce, pates, lunch offerings, I think you can even get baboon meat if you first prove you aren’t wearing a wire.    

So if you want to get pounded by some major league stud meat, then give the Butcher & Larder a try.  You will not be disappointed.  Tell ‘em Zach sent you.  They’ll have not one fucking clue who Zach is, but at least it will make things awkward for a hot second before you buy your meat.       

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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2 Responses to Get Stabbed with a Meat-Sword at The Butcher & Larder

  1. Anonymous says:

    Or you could quit being such a fucking pussy and start killing your own shit, butcher it yourself, and throw that shit in your deep freeze. Organic and better for you. Might taste a little gamey, but that didn't scare John Smith away from Pocahontas' loins.
    MEG

  2. Zach Giles says:

    Is this the funniest thing MEG has ever said? I'm voting “Yes”.

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