Finally, it’s here! The Cow Post!
I have been fielding more than my share of cow jokes since moving to Wisconsin. Never mind the fact that I encountered more cows on my morning commute in Upstate New York than I do here, if there is one thing that this state is known for (aside from Beer and Brandy, that is) it’s Bovines.
That being said, the groudwork for this story was laid before the pandemic altered our lives.
One of the cool things about being part of the Society for Creative Anachronism is that not only did I have a solid social network out here before my relocation, but they are an especially resourceful network. On one morning I received a message from my dear friend AJ asking if I was interested in buying 1/4 of a cow.
I blinked and looked at that again. Yep. One Quarter of a cow.
You see, a friend of a friend with cows was processing one (such a polite term for converting moo on the hoof into ready to cook moo meat), and if AJ and I wanted, we could split a quarter share of the yield. All said and done, it would be roughly 100 pounds of fresh, organically raised beef for less than $3 a pound. Even better, since I am not squeamish about organ meats, I’d be getting those thrown in as a little something extra to sweeten the pot didn’t hurt.
Besides, the Midwest winter put the kibosh on my planned road trips for the holidays and with things going the way they were, we’d need the meats for our freezers and gods only know when we’d get the chance to do anything but stay and shelter.
So on Friday, AJ and I had a Toyota Prius with a full tank of gas, some tasty noms for the road, and crash space in the Sin Twitties reserved with a dear friend she lived with many years ago…. HIT IT!!
Until now, the furthest afield I had been was Madison, so the road trip was a welcome diversion from current events that allowed us to do something proactive if my trip to the grocery store a few days ago was any indication.
Who knows? Maybe the twenty some-odd gallons of drinky drinks (not to mention the gallon of krupnik happily sitting on the kitchen counter) I have brewing may come in handy as well.
It was pleasant to see the countryside as we crossed the state, though I was disappointed by the notable lack of cows visible.
Where were the cows? There was supposed to be an infinite number of cows.
Farms, sure. Cranberry bogs a plenty, too. This surprised me because being a coastal transplant, I am accustomed to cranberries being a Cape Cod/Massachusetts thing, but yep. Lots of cranberry bogs here.
That and a giant orange moose. Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know, but it was there.
After several hours on the eerily vacant roads, we rolled in to our crash spot for the night. After catching up on all of the news local and otherwise, we bedded down for the night with a timetable for loading the meatwagon and rolling back to Wisconsin before any orders to stay and shelter in place were delivered.
Yeah, we could have gotten a share of a cow closer to home, but this was set up before the fit hit the shan and also helped friends. Even outside of difficult and dangerous times, the SCA ideally has a culture of people helping each other. It’s not perfect, but perfect should never be the enemy of good.
Obviously there were no hand-shakes, or even elbow bumps. We exchanged polite waves as we rolled up to fill three large coolers full of tasty, tasty meat, from T-bones, to ground beef, to soup bones and organ meats. After a brief driving tour of AJ’s old stomping grounds, we doubled back to hand off a portion of meat to our host as thanks for putting us up and putting up with us, then took off to head back to Wisconsin as the news reports turned more dire.
We rolled back into town late Saturday afternoon, and divvied up the meats in the driveway. Once inside, we filled the storage freezer downstairs, leaving a few cuts to thaw in the upstairs fridge.
Next time I do this trip, it will be under less serious circumstances, but it was a joy to be on the open road for a bit.
Stay safe and healthy, my friends.
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