There’s a local meat market.
We’ve heard rumors about the market for months, but we were never brave enough to search for it. Generally, if we can’t find information about something on the internet we tend to ignore it.
Anyways, we found the physical location. And I’m not going to lie, it looks really scary.
It’s a white building, all white, but with a huge deer mural painted on the front. Also a loading dock, for large trucks. Also, a guy in a stained leather apron wheeling a trashcan full of raw meat out from the back door over to the incinerator.
This is an entirely true story. I am exaggerating nothing. NOTHING.
The inside is also pretty intimidating, because it’s just a door, then a counter right inside the door. You can’t go anywhere. That’s a little claustrophobic, but it gets better. Because on the other side of the counter, past the small office space for the lady who takes your order, there is a window.
And it looks into the slaughter room (!) where about twelve guys are swiftly working over huge chunks of “just-cut” meats in various states of broken-down-edness.
It was freaky, yes. I am very glad Hubs was with me, because otherwise I would have mumbled something useless and then run as far away as possible. Instead of cowardly retreat, however, we got these:
Which tasted even better than they looked.
Freaky meat market: 1
Cowardly retreat: 0