Goat Kids

 I got there by a little after six, but Tadaaki had already killed the boy goat and strung him up by his hooves to drip the blood out.  The morning air was still and cool, though would turn hot by noon.   A couple of the mothers from my school were crouched in the nearby weeds almost like voyeurs.  They had come to witness the kill, though I’m still not sure why.  I think it was more of a dare than out of respect for the goat.  I had come because it was I who had wanted to eat the goat and I needed to be part of his transition from live animal to meat.  I needed an image of his kill and his blood to really feel the impact of what it is to so capriciously say, “I want to eat the goat.”  I came because I had to and I won’t soon forget the power of that early still morning.

When goats have kids, they usually have two.  The first year we had two girl babies and Christopher easily sold them to friends.  Girl goats are desirable because they give milk.  Boy goats are kept for making babies or meat.  Our mommy goat had a boy and girl the next year, though the girl died right away.  The boy goat was cute, but I steeled myself not to get close.  Of course I wasn’t the one feeding him and his mother.  But I knew we wouldn’t keep this goat and I knew he was going to be eaten.

We couldn’t mate the boy goat with his mother, so Christopher, Tadaaki and I discussed what we would do with him.  Even if we took him back to the goat farm, he would most likely end up killed for his meat.  Here was the moral issue:  should we kill him ourselves and eat him or should we turn away and have someone else do it out of our line of sight?  We debated this at length.  Tadaaki was reluctant, but willing.  Christopher was adamant that I do the killing.  And I wanted to eat the goat, so provisionally agreed.  One of our teachers at the time said he had killed a goat in Africa, and would help, though I didn’t quite believe him.  He was given to telling stories.  Although I had said I would try, I really had no confidence I could kill the boy goat with any real skill.  My one feeble attempt at slitting a chicken’s neck had been tentative at best.  Tadaaki had had to guide my hand, and then finish the job himself.

But I knew that Tadaaki, when pressed, could kill an animal with precision and speed.  He doesn’t like doing it, but he can get the job done.  A couple months before, Tadaaki had gotten a call from his friend Matsuda-san.   He had trapped a marauding teen-aged female boar on his field and needed Tadaaki’s help killing and cleaning it.  When we got there, Tadaaki whipped out a hunting knife designed especially for skinning animals, so I knew he was prepared.  As the time wore closer to the day of the goat, it became clear that Tadaaki was going to do the killing.  And I was relieved.

When you witness the kill (or at least the cleaning process) you are really reverential when you later treat the meat.  This is very powerful stuff.  The image of the goat stayed with me firmly, viscerally, as I prepared a rub for the legs and ribs.  The boy goat deserved the best, so I pulled out the Jean-Marie Corneille olive oil that we had hand carried back from France, chopped up some of the still juicy fresh local rose garlic along with feathery soft early summer rosemary leaves from the garden.  To this I added Sicilian sea salt and India Bold fresh ground peppercorns, and I massaged the mixture gently into the goat meat.

We considered spit roasting, but in the end it just seemed too complicated.  My friend Sylvan was in Japan that summer cooking at Soba Ro and when consulted, drew me a sketch of how they had built a spit for a Chez Panisse event.  Ok, it was doable, but at that point beyond my ken.  Tadaaki likes the pit barbecue, so pit barbecue it was.  He dug a hole at SSU! and filled the bottom with large stones.  Then he built a raging fire over the stones to capture the heat.  After a few hours, he laid the foil wrapped goat meat on the stones and embers and covered the pit with a damp straw mat and a thin sheet of iron before piling the dirt back in to fill up the hole.  The meat cooked all night to meltingly fragrant perfection.

We invited friends to share the boy goat and I cooked Eastern Mediterranean dishes to complement and honor his contribution to the meal.  Before we ate, Tadaaki talked of killing the goat.  At the moment before the kill, he had told the goat, “Ok, this is it, this is your chance to fight.  It’s either you or me.” (Of course he was the one with the knife.)  But that’s his way.  Tadaaki is deeply respectful and gently in tune with the natural world.  He’s more at home loping through the mountains than crunching numbers in Tokyo.  That’s what captivated me and that’s why I married him.

On Monday, some of the SSU! kids asked me where the boy goat was.  I told them we ate him.  “Why?” they wondered.  “Because he couldn’t make baby goats with the mommy,” I returned matter-of-factly (getting down to their level and looking them straight in the eye).  “Oh,” they answered.  And they were satisfied.  I didn't get apologetic or project guilt or regret.  It was a fact of life and they got it.  That’s what we teach our kids and the SSU! kids:  respect and accountability.  The truth is I was sad about the goat, but they needed me to be strong and give it to them without all the baggage. 

I don’t think everyone has to witness or actually kill meat to appreciate it, nor do we have to imagine the blood and the killing act each time we sit down to a steak dinner.  But it really does heighten your appreciation of that steak (or chicken, or fish or whatever) if you’ve raised it, caught it or killed it.  Food that has that history for you, those “legs” so to speak, is unforgettable.  And it becomes hard to eat food with no history, because it is often lifeless and plain.

Paula Wolfert’s Macedonian Relish with Green Tomatoes

This is my shortened version of Wolfert’s recipe from The Cooking of the Eastern Mediterranean (I refer to it as the “blue bible”).  Sylvan grilled the vegetables, but had to get back to Yokohama, so I put this dish together late at night after dinner.  I took a taste and it brought me to my knees.  This easy to overlook relish is one of the best things I have ever eaten.  But the next day, it lost a speck of that fresh edge that made it so grippingly tasty the night before, so plan ahead.

Cook 1 lb. each:  Japanese eggplant, green pepper & green tomatoes (unripe) over a low wood burning fire until soft.  This takes awhile.  Wrap up several cloves of garlic in foil and stick them in the low fire for about 15 minutes.  Crush the cooled garlic with salt in a mortar.  Add 4 Tbsp. chopped walnuts and crush to a paste with the garlic.  Place the just done peppers in a bowl and cover with a plate to sweat, then peel off the skins and cut out the seeds and cores.  Transfer your garlic and walnut purée to a large wooden bowl, or if you have one, a Japanese grinding bowl (suribachi) and add the peeled peppers.  Peel cooled eggplant and take off the tops before adding to the bowl.  Core the green tomatoes and add them as well.  Use a wood bean masher or Japanese large wooden pestle (surikogi).  Crush the vegetables together then toss in ½ cup chopped Italian parsley and 1 ½ tsp. red wine vinegar. Season with sea salt, fresh ground pepper and Hungarian paprika.  Before serving, heat 2 Tbsp. olive oil until quite hot and pour over the relish.  Stir in, then sprinkle with chopped garlic and parsley. (I think I probably forgot these last steps…)

 

Comments

[Preeva Tramiel]

I've always wanted to have a pit barbecue! While the image of the collar and the sight of the goat's little face is heartbreaking, he had a happy life. Today's NY Times magazine is all about food, again, this time how one chef is trying to turn around a town's eating habits.

Since I have green tomatoes now, I'm very interested in the green-tomato relish. How does one cook the vegetables without a wood fire? Even my barbecue is propane, these days. Wood makes too much soot to burn in town (I think)

[Rodney Fong]

The things I always love about your writings are the contrasts in culture your eyes bring, first to the Japanese culture, and then to the more rural life of the farm. Most of us don't think first of all about the killing process, and secondly to the kind of animals consumed. The killing of the goat in this manner is still different from the slaughterhouses for commercial beef and such that prepare the meat for our consumption. Here in Hawaii, there is the open stigma of the types of meat eaten. We have "exotic meat markets" here for the cultures that eat meat not traditionally seen in markets here, like goat and rabbit and the like, and there are still taboo meats like dog and cat that are known to be consumed in some parts of the island. My own awareness came as a result of involvement with our local Junior Chamber of Commerce, where I traveled to the island of Kauai to visit with a chapter that had membership primarily of first or second generation Filipinos. Their big fundraiser was a "cow party" that I was invited to. Not knowing what a "cow party" was set me up for a surprise. To raise funds, the chapter selected a cow for purchase, then personally slaughtered and cut up the meat from the cow (and also a pig) and sold the meat to the community. Quite a difference for me, who usually gets meat already wrapped in the supermarket. Again, a fascinating read that makes me think about all the cultural differences you experience and relate to a wide, diverse readership.

[Nancy Singleton Hachisu]

Sorry for such a long delay and getting back to your comments. Things are crazy on the farm and with my writing. We did rice cropping this weekend (over two days) so it was a mad house. You'll read about it.

Preeva: We were talking about the goats last night because Harigaya-san's crew was there. They ate the boy goat that was the father of our boy. He was never quite popular with the SSU! kids when he stayed with out Mommy goat for several months and then got to be quite the trouble-maker after he grew big, curled horns. Tadaaki laughed and said our boy goat had the same personality (I never saw it). As for the green tomatoes, just do it over the gas burner, that's fine. There is another recipe that I made recently for a green tomato relish you can conserve. It's in Diana Kennedy's Nothing Fancy book. If you don't have that book, let me know and I can fax you the recipe.

Rodney. Thank you for giving us the Hawaii perspective. I look forward to your comments each post. I've heard that Kauai is the place to go for food in Hawaii...what do you think? In any case, the Filipiino "cow party" sounds amazing. I think we Americans have a lot to learn from immigrants and hope that there is a new climate of that instead of the old one pushing "assimilation." I read an article recently in Hyphen written by a half Japanese girl I correspond with a little. I guess you've read about the new truck garden craze. In this article she pointed out that immigrants have typically had truck gardens and still do. That's oversimplification, but you get the general point. I'll forward you the article.

Nancy