Moe the Butcher
I feel really dirty right now. Let me explain.
As I was walking through the neighborhood this morning, I noticed a particular store front that I’ve never before seen open, but was in fact open at that moment. In the middle of the east side of Elizabeth, between Houston and Prince, sits a storefront much different from its neighbors - Albanese Meats and Poultry. If you’re familiar with the neighborhood, then you know the streets are littered with fashionable clothing boutiques and trendy restaurants. But Albanese Meats and Poultry is significantly different. Not only does it seem shuttered most of the time, but it also looks as if it hasn’t had a facelift since the ’50s.
So when I noticed two customers inside the butcher shop, I had to stop and look in the window. Sure enough, one patron was waiting for his cuts of meat while the other sat patiently waiting for his turn. I walked in and peered around to observe the sparse decor of the shop. There is nothing electronic, digital or even what one might consider current. Equipment included a large butcher block, one extremely long knife, heavy cleavers, two saws and a very large, old scale. The cases were haphazardly stocked with various unlabeled meats and without really knowing what cut is what, other than being able to distinguish between the different animals, I sat down and patiently waited my turn.
Albanese Meats and Poultry is the last remaining old-time butcher shop in what was once Little Italy, and is run by none other than Moe Albanese, an adorable 85 year old man who’s been in the family business since he was young (you can learn all the historic Italian details on his website). I patiently watched as he selected prime dry-aged steaks for his customer, then proceeded to expertly trim and prepare the steaks. I even watched him trim and prepare a bone for the customer’s Yorkie. The two chatted as if they had a regular butcher-customer relationship and Moe was in no rush for speedy service, and you can’t be either.
When it was my turn, I asked if he had a pork shoulder. Unfortunately, I was too late in the day. He had already given 2 picnics to the restaurant down the street. As I prepared to brave the cold outside, I told Moe that I had lived in the neighborhood for 4 years and that this was the first time I’d seen the store open and was able to come in. A little more chatting continued, then Moe said to give him a minute and he’d call the restaurant to see if they could spare one of the picnics. I waited while he called and gave the manager a story about how he forgot his customer had ordered a picnic. I learned that if available, Moe wasn’t willing to cut the picnic to accommodate my meager order, but I would have to take the entire shoulder (~7lbs at $1.50/lb). Uh, sure why not. Unfortunately the restaurant wasn’t willing to give up their picnics.
Before I was off on my way, Moe made sure to hand over one of his business cards and suggested I call the night before to place my order. He’d be able to get me anything, he just needed to know in advance. Apparently old school Italian butchers with tiny storefronts can’t rely on volume in this neighborhood and day. I left with a smile on my face.
Since I’ve made plans to attempt a braised pork shoulder for my friends tomorrow, I stilled needed a picnic. I walked a block east over to the Whole Foods and sure enough, there were 3 picnics in the meat case. And sure enough, there was a 4lb one perfect for me. Unfortunately it was also $2.99/lb, double what Moe was offering.
I feel like I’ve sold out by going to Whole Foods and getting my cut of meat. Not only did I further the mega-corporation, but I also paid double the price. This is why I feel dirty.
I’m determined to buy meat from Moe in the future. I’ve added his butcher shop to my iPhone and I plan to put some orders in over the next few weeks, even though I rarely cook meat other than chicken. I also plan on trying some of his prime dry-aged steaks later this week. I’ll keep you posted.
