I was a vegetarian for many years. After a stint as an editor at a cattle breeding magazine, I had learned a little too much about commercial beef production. Then I moved to the U.P., tried an especially tasty venison tenderloin, and decided I didn’t need to be vegetarian anymore. I am, however, still conscious about knowing the source of my meat, which is how I found myself in a discussion with a fellow farmers’ marketer, Steve, about splitting a pig.

Belinda’s husband, Farmer Ron, raises pigs on a small scale. He sells pig shares, half-pig minimum. For a $1.50 per pound he’ll raise your pig. When your pig is ready, he’ll take it to the butcher of your choice and they’ll chop it up just the way you want it.

Steve wondered exactly how much pig would half-a-pig be? I told him I didn’t know for sure, but I’ve met those pigs and they were HUGE. Turns out half a pig is about 150 pounds. The question was: Could we eat that much pig? Mmmm, bacon. Sausage. Brats.

In this part of the world, we are hunter gathers in every sense of the word. No one gets their meat from the grocery store. It isn’t convenient, but I don’t expect it to be. There is very little spontaneous meat consumption. We eat what we can find around here. We must hunt down a source or grow it ourselves.  My farmer’s market friends all have their own local sources for meat they don’t grow themselves. (And I’m starting to discover that people covet their local meat sources.)

Lots of folks live on venison. If they raise chickens, they eat chickens. We are surrounded on three sides by Lake Michigan, so fish is popular. We’ve befriended a local fisherman and traded some of those “cold-kisssed” carrots for some perch caught practically in our backyard. A good use for some of those carrots.

I am slowly starting to build my meat network. I’m still hunting down a source for beef. Every so often a local farmer will have some extra to share. I’ve tracked down certified organic beef, which tasted fantastic, but the drive to pick up the meat was too far to justify. To me, “clean meat” doesn’t necessarily mean organic. It can also mean less oily — it hasn’t traveled very far to get to my fridge.

Fortunately one of the few local merchants is a butcher — they call him “Putt”. He sells hooded sweatshirts bearing his unofficial slogan: “You can’t beat Putt’s meat!”. Seriously. At Putt’s, I’m not guaranteed to know the person who grew the meat, but I’m keeping it close to home. What we can’t hunt down in one form or another, we can buy from Putt.

In the end, the hubby nixed the pig idea. We are a family of two. We don’t eat that much pig. There are so many other foods competing for freezer space. It’s all about balance. Too much pig, is too much pig. Even if it is local pig. We’ll save the freezer space for veggies and venison and eat Putt’s sausage.