Butchers fill gap left by supermarkets

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Reading Time: 3 minutes

Published: September 27, 2001

Butchers are continuing to disappear from public view.

Shoppers at most major city grocery stores never see a side or quarter of beef, let alone a butcher fashioning steaks and roasts out of one.

As fewer grocery stores have in-store meat cutting, some may think the butcher could become a vague memory of an arcane occupation, like the candle stick maker.

But small, independent butchers say they won’t join the dinosaurs any time soon.

They insist that they can win their fight for meat quality to keep and gain consumers.

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“I think you’ll see more butchers in 15 years, not less,” said Winnipeg butcher Gary Dunn, standing behind the fresh meat counter of his small grocery store.

“There will always be a market for us because there will always be a market for quality.”

Dunn’s store is in an affluent part of the city, in which people don’t mind paying a little extra for well-aged and well-cut meat.

But across town, in a poorer neighborhood, Joe Cantor said the demand for quality, freshly cut and packaged meat is just as strong.

“We’ve had three generations of a lot of families shopping here,” said 76-year-old Cantor, who has worked in the store with his twin brother for 57 years.

“We believe in fresh meat. It’s still the best way.”

Fresh meat counters, where shoppers can order what they like and see it cut before them, have been out of fashion for decades.

Back in 1953, Dunn’s father left Safeway, where he had trained butchers, so he could buy a small fresh meat counter.

He was outraged that Safeway was not aging its meat anymore and wanted to sell meat he was proud of.

“Fellows at Safeway said, ‘Why would you make such a silly mistake,’ ” Dunn said. “Fifty years ago they said that.”

Butchers, who began to be called “meat cutters” in the 1960s, started retreating from meat counters in the 1950s.

But meat cutters could still be seen through the glass windows in the meat departments of most grocery stores.

If someone wanted something special, such as extra thick or thin steaks, or a large roast, or a piece of fat, they could bang on the department’s door and talk to a butcher.

But in the 1990s large supermarket chains began moving meat cutting out of stores. Instead, centralized cutting operations were established to provide what is known as “case ready” meat.

This transformation is still taking place. Safeway in Winnipeg recently announced it was moving all of its meat cutting out of its stores in the city and into one centralized plant.

Dunn and Cantor admit many consumers are focused only on price, which is what motivates supermarket chains. Big chain stores have to compete with other chains on price, and centralized cutting is cheaper than doing it in every store.

“They need to do it,” Dunn said.

Safeway officials did not respond to requests for an interview.

While the chains continue to centralize, Dunn and Cantor hope to take advantage of another industry shift: the growth of fresh, high quality food sources.

“I think you’ll see a polarization,” said Dunn, noting the growth of farmers’ markets and organic food sales.

Some of his most enthusiastic customers are young couples, Dunn said. They have a greater interest in making gourmet food than their parents did, and they want top quality ingredients.

But they also don’t know how to cook basic cuts of meat, something their parents would have known. So they see the meat counter as a place not only to buy meat, but to also learn how to cook it.

Harder than finding customers is finding good butchers, Dunn said. Few people know how to cut meat. Red River College in Winnipeg dropped its butchers course a few years ago.

And the meat cutters from big plants generally only know how to do one or two things, rather than be able to cut up an entire carcass.

“The only way you’re going to find him is to train him,” Dunn said.

But there are young men eager to take up the trade of butchering, men drawn by the same vision that inspired Dunn’s father and keeps Dunn working long hours at his store.

“I feel good about it every day when I go home,” he said.

“I gave someone something that made their meal a little better. I gave a mom something fresh for her kids. It sounds silly, but it’s true.”

About the author

Ed White

Ed White

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