For the past
several years I have been fascinated by the fascination with “Certified Angus
Beef.” It shows up on all manner of menus, from fine dining establishments to
fast food emporiums. In supermarket meat cases, too. It’s supposed to mean
something.
I don’t get
it.
Growing up,
we raised cattle. Herefords. (Red with distinctive patterns of white.) I worked
for a rancher who had some Herefords, some Angus (black), Galloways (black),
and a bunch of crossbreds (mostly black with white faces and markings—black
bally, we called them). My dad punched cows for a big outfit that had cows of
many colors and crosses—Charolais (white), shorthorn (mostly red), and the
aforementioned breeds. There were a few exotic breeds like Simmentals around,
but not so many as nowadays.
We ate beef
from cattle of all colors. Some meat was better than other meat, but that had
to do with how and what the cow was fed rather than the color of its hide. In
fact, once a cow’s hide has been peeled you would be hard pressed to know from the
meat inside what color the cow used to be on the outside—if you could know at
all.
I once heard
the great cowboy singer and songwriter Dave Stamey say on stage that he admired
the people behind the “Certified Angus Beef” campaign for convincing us of the
cockamamie notion that a color has a flavor.
I think he’s
right.
