I like the idea of being a butcher. Not for the meat, per se, but for the opportunity to own knives. I love knives. I love short knives and bent knives, long sinister knives and knives with thick rubber handles. I love the idea of knives turning flesh into ribbon. The beauty and symmetry of a clean cut.
At the Local Grill in Village Market, they know a lot about knives because they understand meat. I envy Tony Saisi’s job, as their main butcher. He picks the cows, supervises their feeding (grass) and picks the meat. He then ages them. He walks around the small kitchen of the very swanky, moody and bohemian restaurant, giving instructions, and watching over the treatment of the Rumps, Sirloin, Fillets and Rib-Eyes.
