Wooden Floors and Real Butchers

A small-town grocery store and what we’ve lost

Apricot and Prune Stuffed Pork Loin (Lana’s Cooking)

My local grocery store was having a very nice sale on pork loin roasts recently. I don’t often buy a whole pork loin because with just the two of us, it’s much more than we need for a meal. But I was in the mood to do a wintery recipe with lovely dried fruits, and a stuffed pork loin seemed just the thing!

The Day I Asked a Butcher for Help…

Looking over the selection of loins, I didn’t find one close to the size that I wanted, so I wheeled my cart right on over to the “service bell” and gave it a press. Out came the nice young man from the back of the meat department to see how he could help me.

“I’d like a piece of pork loin about 2 1/2 pounds, please,” I said to him. He kindly pointed me to the case where the pork loins were.

“Yes, I saw those,” I said to him, “but they’re all 5 or more pounds. I want a smaller piece of loin. Just 2 1/2 to 3 pounds.” A reasonable enough request, I thought.

He looked at me like I was speaking Cantonese. “That’s what we’ve got over there in the case. That’s the way ‘they’ send it to us.”

I Should Have Just Kept My Mouth Shut and Taken What Was in the Case

I have been here before. I knew better than to try to go any further with this. What I wanted to say was, “Aren’t you a butcher? You work in the meat department. So cut me off a piece of loin that weighs 2 1/2 pounds. Okay?” It would have been futile.

Not long ago, I selected a beautiful 3-pound chicken that I wanted to take home to fry. I’m just not very good at cutting up chickens, so I wanted the grocery store “butcher” to cut it up for me.

I asked for the chicken to be cut up “for frying,” assuming he would understand that I wanted two breasts, two wings, two legs, and two thighs. What I got was eight randomly hacked-up pieces of chicken. I didn’t even consider asking if he could cut the wishbone. Arggghhhh.

And don’t even ask me what happened when I asked if they could please “French” some lamb chops. It was embarrassing.

I Want a Real Grocery Store

Here’s what I want. I want a grocery store that has a real butcher in the meat department. One who truly knows different cuts of meat and how to prepare them himself. Not just how to display what “they” send for the meat case.

I want a butcher who can tell me where the meat I’m buying came from and where and when the fish they’re selling were caught.

I want eggs that taste like eggs and milk that tastes like milk should taste. And while I’m at it, I want produce that still has dirt on it. Greens that haven’t been hacked to pieces and sealed in cellophane bags. Apples and cucumbers that haven’t been waxed and polished until they look plastic.

And I want all this from my regular, local grocery store. Not from a “specialty” food market that I have to drive an hour one-way to reach. Are you listening, supermarket conglomerates?

In Which I Wax Nostalgic

What I really want is “Mr. Wyatt’s.” When I was growing up, there was a little bitty grocery store on the town square in Colquitt. It was owned and run by Mr. Wyatt Chambers.

The store was actually named “Wyatt’s Grocery,” but everybody in town called it simply Mr. Wyatt’s. And when I say little bitty, I mean teeny tiny.

I remember that it had wooden floors that creaked when you walked on them. There was one cash register and two bag boys who also made deliveries. You could even call the store, give your order, and they’d run your groceries right around to your house.

Mr. Wyatt was the store owner and butcher. And he was good at his trade. All you had to do was give him a general idea of what you wanted, and he got right to work on it.

Many, many times, Mama would tell me to “run up to Mr. Wyatt’s and tell him I need enough ‘fill-in-the-blank’ to feed five people for supper.” Coming right up.

I can’t be sure since I was just a child, but I’d be willing to bet that most of the meat and some of the produce Mr. Wyatt sold came from local sources. And he probably did the butchering himself. It wouldn’t surprise me.

And, guess what? The produce actually had dirt on it! Imagine that. Sweet potatoes with some of the dirt they grew in still clinging to the skin. Wouldn’t that be heavenly…

At the end of my shopping trip, I wound up with a five-pound pork loin, which I divided myself at home. I used half for my recipe and stored half in the freezer for later. It all worked out fine. But that longing for the long gone, small town grocery store still lingers.

The recipe I made that day, pork loin stuffed with dried apricots and prunes, turned out delicious! If you’d like to try it yourself, you’ll find it on my blog at https://www.lanascooking.com/pork-loin-stuffed-with-prunes-and-apricots/