Consumers hold a big key to building a better meat system, but a local rancher and a restaurateur explain how affordability remains a tricky challenge to making healthier meat choices more accessible
This article was originally published by Edible Communities on July 10, 2020, and republished in Perspectives, the 60th issue of Edible San Diego Magazine on Dec. 1, 2020.
With regards to this article, we acknowledge that San Diego County has a modest number of local meat producers. Here as anywhere, conscious consumers of pasture-raised meats have to be diligent in their research and buying practices in order to purchase directly from a small-scale producer that meets their standards. We reached out to a couple of businesses that have a stake in the meat production industry for local perspectives on the topics featured in Marilyn Noble’s article.
Paul Grieve of Pasture Bird, Southern California’s largest producer of pasture-raised chickens, respectfully acknowledges that many strong points are made by the parties featured in this article. Grieve says “While [consumers are] an important part of the equation, it’s also important that farmers continue to innovate and make products more accessible, and I also believe it’s important that big companies start to adopt regenerative practices as well if we’re to expect change on a large scale.
“One of the things that has long bothered me about producing pasture-raised chicken is that there’s no way my middle-class parents could have afforded our birds when I was growing up. I hope this amazing movement doesn’t get limited to producing food for rich people. The big companies bring in economies of scale which can help bring down prices so more people can afford nutrient-dense food. Of course, consumers will need to pay a bit more for better food, I don’t think anyone will argue that. But it’s also on us farmers to innovate systems that make these regenerative practices efficient, affordable, and accessible to more people if we want to see systematic change.”
Despite Covid-19, Brad Wise, restaurateur and chef-genius behind the Trust Restaurant Group purchased and revamped a butcher shop in North Park in 2020. The Wise Ox specializes in curating pasture-raised meats from 12 farms and offers San Diegans centralized access to a variety of meats in a traditional butcher shop setting. For Wise, the butcher shop concept made sense because of how sourcing would integrate with his higher-end restaurants, like Trust, Rare Society, and Fort Oak.
To the mindful consumer that is willing and able to go out of their way to demonstrate ethical purchasing power, the business also offers more accessible price points. Wise points out that you can purchase the same quality steak served in one of his high-end restaurants from the butcher case and prepare it yourself for a fraction of the cost. Wise Ox also serves sausages and cured meats from a thriving in-house charcuterie program, prepared sandwiches, and burgers ground fresh right over the griddle that bring higher-end meats into the realm of fast-casual dining.
While butcher shops are on a declining trend nationally, the Wise Ox leverages the restaurant group’s success to address two of the most difficult parts of the conscious meat market—stabilizing a local, verifiable supply chain and making a variety of food choices available to consumers.
All it’s taken to expose the precarious state of our modern industrial meat supply is a tiny bit of infectious genetic material wrapped in a protein coat.
The coronavirus pandemic has shone a not-so-friendly light on the inhumane ways both animals and people are treated in a system dominated by four major companies: Tyson, JBS, Cargill, and National Beef. Over the past 40 years, as the meatpacking industry has consolidated in the name of scale, efficiency, and profits—and while consumers have been the beneficiaries of cheap meat—producers, rural communities, slaughterhouse workers, and the environment have all paid a steep price.
As the virus rampaged through enormous packing plants in the Midwest, sickening thousands of mostly immigrant workers and, as of June, killing more than 100, the packers slowed production and claimed a meat shortage was imminent. This sent meat prices soaring and panicked consumers cleaned out grocery store meat cases. In the meantime, decreased packing house capacity meant farmers had nowhere to sell their animals and were forced to exterminate millions, mostly hogs and chickens, the disposal of which (by burying or incineration) has created serious groundwater and air pollution. In the modern industrial system, once animals reach their slaughter weight, there’s no alternative to mass euthanasia and disposal if the facilities aren’t available.
“What do you do with a million cattle and no slaughter capacity? You cannot keep feeding them,” says Mike Callicrate, a rancher in St. Francis, Kansas, who owns a small slaughter plant, along with a processing plant and retail store in Colorado Springs. He’s also a fiercely outspoken advocate for small family farms.
“These companies are so unbelievably fragile. One little thing happens and they fall apart. It's just a house of cards,” he adds.
In the late 1960s, the US was home to around 9,000 medium- and small-scale slaughter plants scattered throughout the country. By 2018, that number had shrunk to about 800, with the vast majority of beef and pork processed in only about a dozen extremely large plants concentrated in the Midwest. Not only does this leave the meat supply vulnerable to disruption, but as small plants have disappeared, it’s become harder for livestock growers to opt-out of the industrial system, and small rural economies have collapsed as competition has disappeared and dollars have been siphoned off by massive corporations.
Callicrate places many of the problems inherent in the commodity meat system at the foot of the USDA for several reasons—especially when it comes to truth in labeling, another issue depressing prospects for small producers. “We've got USDA out there acting like they're the food police and making sure our food is safe and wholesome, and yet they are complicit in one of the biggest labeling frauds in our history: ‘Product of USA,’” he says. “We’ve got to realize that USDA does not represent the people's interest anymore.”
Consumers may think they’re buying American beef when they read ”Product of USA” on the label, but meat can legally carry that terminology even if it’s imported from countries like Australia or Brazil, as long as it’s processed in a US packing plant. The misleading product of the USA label goes hand in hand with the end of Country of Origin Labeling (COOL) for beef. When Congress allowed the industry to drop the country of origin from the label in 2015, the doors opened wide for consumer confusion, especially with grass-fed beef.
“The USDA rule that allows multinational corporations to shop for grass-fed beef in the cheapest markets in the world and then sell it to the most lucrative market in the world (the US) and call it a product of the USA is a major issue,” says Will Harris. He’s the fourth-generation owner of White Oak Pastures in Bluffton, Georgia. In the mid-90s, he began transitioning his commodity cattle operation to a pasture-based, multi-species model, and now is vertically integrated, with two slaughter plants and a robust sales and marketing department that moves product through several different sales channels, including retail, foodservice, and direct-to-consumer.
In the years since COOL ended, Harris says he’s seen his business revenues drop almost 25 percent. “We’re selling the same amount of beef,” he says, “but our margins are dropping because we’re competing with cheaper meat from other countries.”