Learning What Food Looks Like Before It Goes Into the Package
About 20 high school students stood behind the butcher counter, staring at a 160-pound piece of meat from a recently slaughtered cow.
“All of our meat comes from local farms, and we get it all whole,” said Tom Mylan, 33, one of three butchers at the Meat Hook, a new butcher shop in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, that buys its meat locally and prizes nose-to-tail eating. “We don’t just buy steaks or pork chops or whatever.”
“How much does the whole cow cost?” one boy in a white hoodie had asked moments before. Answer: about $3.25 a pound. “Do you slaughter here?” asked another. Short answer: no—most slaughterhouses are upstate. “What is chorizo?” asked a girl. Answer: a spicy Spanish sausage.
These curious students, all juniors and seniors atAutomotive High School in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, are taking a class called “Food, Land, and You.” Introduced by Jenny Kessler, a teacher at the school, three years ago, this elective English course is a primer about food broadly defined — its social, political and economic aspects. While dozens of New York City public schools have edible gardens, or offer student-grown food on the cafeteria menu, Ms. Kessler’s class is unusual in the wider perspective it takes.
“Food justice is a huge issue,” Ms. Kessler, 31, said. “But we study and talk blatantly about it — who has access to this food and why.”
Ms. Kessler’s pupils study factory farming and corn subsidies, read articles by Michael Pollan and Wendell Berry and watch documentaries like “Food, Inc.,” a dark look at the nation’s industrialized food system. They also tend a 2,500-square-foot organic vegetable garden that borders their school, financing it with funds they raise and with support from the New York chapter of Slow Food U.S.A. In season, their plot teems with cucumbers, eggplant, okra, peas, red cabbage, spinach, tomatoes and many herbs. The teenagers can take the food home free, and they sell the rest at an after-school farm stand.
But the popularity of Ms. Kessler’s class — it is one of the most sought-after at the school, according to Mary Brouder, the principal — may be due to the frequent trips, like the one to the Meat Hook.
In the fall, for example, Ms. Kessler took her charges to the Queens County Farm Museum, where they collected eggs, worked with compost and helped clear garden beds. She also secured a stand for her students at the Union Square Greenmarket, where they ran cooking demonstrations, and she organized a volunteer stint for them at the Bowery Mission, where they made lunch for the homeless.
Twice a year, Ms. Kessler also takes her students to Hawthorne Valley Farm in Ghent, N.Y., where they make apple cider and apple pies from scratch, feed the pigs and sweep up cow manure. For many of these students, who hail from gritty neighborhoods like Bedford-Stuyvesant and East New York, that excursion marks their first visit to a farm.
Back at the Meat Hook, another butcher, Brent Young, 27, was displaying the tools of his trade.
“Ninety percent of our work is done with our knives, most importantly this five-inch European-style breaking knife,” Mr. Young said, pulling the tool out of his scabbard for all to see. He then pointed out the band saw (used for cutting through thick bones), the three-horsepower meat grinder (for sausages and ground beef) and a hand saw (for cutting through muscle and bone). When a student asked if there were ever any accidents, Mr. Mylan produced a chain-mail vest, which he said the butchers use “when we’re doing really serious work.”
“Sometimes,” he added, “the dense bone and hard muscle is not exactly where you thought it was and that knife will just come through and you can really hurt yourself.”
When it came time to sampling some raw meat — something these butchers do every day to ensure the meat is of high quality — the students hesitated.
“If it’s nasty, I’m not going to try it again,” said Denzel Conze, 18.
Ben Turley, 29, another of the Meat Hook butchers, cut a raw flatiron steak into thin slices, sprinkling each with some salt.
“It tastes like salty gummy bears,” Jamie Colon, 16, said after a bite of the meat.
Most of Ms. Kessler’s students live in “food deserts”—neighborhoods with lots of fast food but little fresh produce or other healthy fare. Automotive High School’s students are predominantly low income, too, with 75 percent of them qualifying for a free lunch, according to Ms. Brouder.
Though the students may not return to the Meat Hook to buy the homemade sausages ($10.99 a pound), or even the grass-fed beef ($6 a pound), that’s not really the point. “The purpose of going there is just for them to know it’s out there,” Ms. Kessler said. “It’s really hard to cement in their heads that there are other options to industrial food.”
Joshua Bright for The New York Times
Students from Automotive High School in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, visiting the Meat Hook shop, where the meat is fresh and local and every bit of it is used.
Joshua Bright for The New York Times
Denzel Conze, 18, trying a slice of raw meat as part of a high school course that teaches students to think more broadly about the food they eat.
Joshua Bright for The New York Times
Brent Young, a butcher at the Meat Hook, demonstrating knife skills. Students visited the store to gain an appreciation of where food comes from.
“How much does the whole cow cost?” one boy in a white hoodie had asked moments before. Answer: about $3.25 a pound. “Do you slaughter here?” asked another. Short answer: no—most slaughterhouses are upstate. “What is chorizo?” asked a girl. Answer: a spicy Spanish sausage.
These curious students, all juniors and seniors atAutomotive High School in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, are taking a class called “Food, Land, and You.” Introduced by Jenny Kessler, a teacher at the school, three years ago, this elective English course is a primer about food broadly defined — its social, political and economic aspects. While dozens of New York City public schools have edible gardens, or offer student-grown food on the cafeteria menu, Ms. Kessler’s class is unusual in the wider perspective it takes.
“Food justice is a huge issue,” Ms. Kessler, 31, said. “But we study and talk blatantly about it — who has access to this food and why.”
Ms. Kessler’s pupils study factory farming and corn subsidies, read articles by Michael Pollan and Wendell Berry and watch documentaries like “Food, Inc.,” a dark look at the nation’s industrialized food system. They also tend a 2,500-square-foot organic vegetable garden that borders their school, financing it with funds they raise and with support from the New York chapter of Slow Food U.S.A. In season, their plot teems with cucumbers, eggplant, okra, peas, red cabbage, spinach, tomatoes and many herbs. The teenagers can take the food home free, and they sell the rest at an after-school farm stand.
But the popularity of Ms. Kessler’s class — it is one of the most sought-after at the school, according to Mary Brouder, the principal — may be due to the frequent trips, like the one to the Meat Hook.
In the fall, for example, Ms. Kessler took her charges to the Queens County Farm Museum, where they collected eggs, worked with compost and helped clear garden beds. She also secured a stand for her students at the Union Square Greenmarket, where they ran cooking demonstrations, and she organized a volunteer stint for them at the Bowery Mission, where they made lunch for the homeless.
Twice a year, Ms. Kessler also takes her students to Hawthorne Valley Farm in Ghent, N.Y., where they make apple cider and apple pies from scratch, feed the pigs and sweep up cow manure. For many of these students, who hail from gritty neighborhoods like Bedford-Stuyvesant and East New York, that excursion marks their first visit to a farm.
Back at the Meat Hook, another butcher, Brent Young, 27, was displaying the tools of his trade.
“Ninety percent of our work is done with our knives, most importantly this five-inch European-style breaking knife,” Mr. Young said, pulling the tool out of his scabbard for all to see. He then pointed out the band saw (used for cutting through thick bones), the three-horsepower meat grinder (for sausages and ground beef) and a hand saw (for cutting through muscle and bone). When a student asked if there were ever any accidents, Mr. Mylan produced a chain-mail vest, which he said the butchers use “when we’re doing really serious work.”
“Sometimes,” he added, “the dense bone and hard muscle is not exactly where you thought it was and that knife will just come through and you can really hurt yourself.”
When it came time to sampling some raw meat — something these butchers do every day to ensure the meat is of high quality — the students hesitated.
“If it’s nasty, I’m not going to try it again,” said Denzel Conze, 18.
Ben Turley, 29, another of the Meat Hook butchers, cut a raw flatiron steak into thin slices, sprinkling each with some salt.
“It tastes like salty gummy bears,” Jamie Colon, 16, said after a bite of the meat.
Most of Ms. Kessler’s students live in “food deserts”—neighborhoods with lots of fast food but little fresh produce or other healthy fare. Automotive High School’s students are predominantly low income, too, with 75 percent of them qualifying for a free lunch, according to Ms. Brouder.
Though the students may not return to the Meat Hook to buy the homemade sausages ($10.99 a pound), or even the grass-fed beef ($6 a pound), that’s not really the point. “The purpose of going there is just for them to know it’s out there,” Ms. Kessler said. “It’s really hard to cement in their heads that there are other options to industrial food.”
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