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Published: February 19th 2010
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Before I moved to India I had pretty much decided that I would be a vegetarian for the year. Like so many other things I assumed that I would not be able to buy or even eat meat here. I soon learnt that most restaurants offer a “VEG” or “NON-VEG” menu.Thus over a lunch with the girls in Haus Kaas we got chatting about this topic and I was given two numbers for the meat man. When I asked a friend what the dude’s name was, she just said: “can’t pronounce it, we just call him Mr Meat Man”. Needless-to-say these numbers stayed safely tucked away in my little notebook for a good 4 weeks!
Now another friend had mentioned that she went to a specific market, called the INA market to buy fresh fish. And apparently this is salt water fish and not out-the-local-bog/creek-fish, so I was keen to have a look. So jumping in my tuk-tuk I zipped to the INA market to see a man about a fish - tee hee! I swear if I were blind (touch wood) I could have found the correct part of the market independently because it absolutely reeked!!! What’s more is
that all the fish and meat were laid out in the stalls uncovered, thus exposed to the dust, flies and grubby paws (human and canine). YUM! In addition, should I have chosen to buy a chicken - the dude squatting on the fish would happily have jumped down and pulled the live, yes live, chicken out of their cramped cage and chopped his head off for me. NO THANKS!!! So having snapped my few pics I decided that I would not be purchasing my dead livestock from this place!
Strangely, I held onto Mr Meat Man’s number for a couple more weeks after my INA experience! But then the time came for me to brave it and just call the dude - I mean, if the others had done it, so could I! So I pulled out the numbers and dialled the first one. Speaking in very broken and basic English I was able to relay my address (he delievers, like so many other things in India!) and place an order for chicken, minced meat and buffalo. And two days later a very grimy looking man rang my bell. “Surely not", I thought! Surely, this is not the meat
Weapons of the trade
Note the two knives - just regular knives, nothing special man?!? But true as nuts he smiled as I opened the door and said: “Namaste! Me Mr Meat Man”. Forcing a smile I invited him upstairs, thinking: “where’s the meat?” Expecting a cooler box or something similar - I soon had my answer.
He marched straight into the kitchen and opened a plastic bag (like a Pick ‘n Pay bag) revealing 3 smaller packets! No ice, no nothing! He then opened the first, exposing the mined meat and happily explained what it was by stabbing his grubby, dusty paws into the meat! Ah c’mon! So gross! He then opened the second packet which was the chicken - again, poking his fingers into the chicken breasts! What’s with this dude? But wait the best part was when he opened the bag with the fillet in it. (Never thought I would write a sentence like that!?!)
So by now I had heard rumours that the “beef” was in fact buffalo, which in India is not surprising given the holy nature of the cow. Just an aside here: cows are supposedly sacred and holy animals yet no one seems to take any responsibility for them. They simply line the streets of
Bag 'o mince
Anyone for spag bol at ours??? India, drinking infected water, sitting in their own poop and eating plastic bags which eventually kill them - just so sad and such a waste of beef!
Anyhoo, rant over - I was a little surprised to see Mr Meat Man whip out the fillet and pop it onto the kitchen counter. Just like that, no wiping the counter or asking for a chopping board - just slaps it on the marble counter top. We then played a quick game of charades as he explained that he would like a knife. Being really good at games (thanks Mich for all the practise) I was able to get the message and hand him a variety of blades. Taking a step backwards wondering just what the hell he would do next - he started sharpening the knives by slicing them along the blades. He then started filleting the meat right there. At this point I ran to grab my camera so I could capture this chap... and he was more than happy to pose for a shot. And that was it. I then paid him the Rs760 (approx R110) I owed him and walked him out. As he left I noticed
Sommer on the counter
I'm fairly certain this chap was on all fours that morning cause there was so much boold!! that he was driving a motorbike. Great! So the dusty, grubby muck on his bike was now sitting on my meat upstairs! Yum!
Ok, I thought, perhaps this is as good as it gets - tend to think that a lot since living here. Amazing what you just learn to accept. Then, again following a friend’s advice, I rinsed the meat off with salted water. I know, I know - what sacrilege! If there’s one thing I know is that water tends to zap all the flavour out of raw meat but c’mon wouldn’t you have done the same thing??? I was then advised to let it drain. You see, it’s so fresh its’ still kinda bleeding! So I placed the meat onto plates and popped them into the fridge. After an hour, I did my first draining - yuk, yuk, yuk!!! Then i did it again after 2 hours and one last time after 3 hours. Then I decided that I would pack it into smaller bits and freeze it. But by this point I was completely certain that I would not be eating this meat.
I was then chatting to Katie, relaying my story and she
INA market
Note the man squatting (or is that crouching Elzeth?!?) on the fish just started chuckling because of the two numbers I had - I had called the skankier of the two! Bloody typical. She explained that her chap is so clean, pristine and most importantly brings the meat already vacuumed packed! So two questions remain (1) do I try this again with the other dude and (2) what the hell are we going to do with the buffalo and chicken now frozen in my freezer!?!?
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Bernadette
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Enjoying your blog! But don't think I'll eat that meat!