butchering buša

Though I have experience butchering small livestock, before last week I had never really done any in-depth butchery with beef or veal. Last month, knowing that we would have the opportunity to work with less common animals such as Mangalitsa pigs and Buša cows, I sought out advice on the best uses for their various parts. Mangalitsa pigs turned out to be well-documented thanks in large part to Heath’s efforts at Wooly Pigs’ in Washington state. Buša cows are another story entirely—searching several permutations of the name turned up next to nothing, besides some very basic technical information about the breed. At one point, though, I found an email address for a man named Zoran, listed as the Buša breeding contact in Serbia. I wasted no time getting in touch with him, and he was quick to respond to my inquiries. Not only did he give me further information about the Buša cows, but it turns out he raises Mangalitsa pigs as well.

It seems that Buša were traditionally raised by subsistence farmers in the mountains where the milk, rather than the meat, was the primary product. As such, the cows would typically be slaughtered at an age approaching 15 years—resulting in meat more suitable to braises and stews than anything else. In any case, Zoran promised to be in touch when the time approached to slaughter one of his animals.

Last week, as promised, he wrote me of a Friday slaughter of his Buša bull, 1.5 years old. I quickly replied, and we agreed that Vlad and I would drive out to their town of Vršac to see whatever we could. As the slaughter was early in the morning, we skipped it and instead drove straight to his house, where we were invited in to meet his beautiful family as well as his butcher of 50 years’ experience. This was indeed a family affair, attended by his wife and two engaging children, as well as his mother and father. The butcher, in a fashion I’ve never before experienced, had meat spread out across the wooden dining table, using a small cutting board to do the work.

I cannot say enough good things about the experience. It just struck me as the right way to approach the meat we eat. Here were two young kids, playing with the bones, watching the butcher at work, and helping to take the meat upstairs (where it would be laid out on the floor to rest overnight before being frozen or further processed/cooked the next day). Zoran gave us tastes of his friend’s acacia honey, his father’s two year old bacon, the last of the season local grapes, some grassy fresh goat cheese, and his own unfiltered apple cider. Zoran’s wife, a physician, told us of the healthy nature of the Buša’s omega-rich fats, pointing out bone marrow (love it) and fatty cuts, mentioning the liver as especially beneficial to the kids, with its concentration of iron and vitamins. The event seemed straight out of Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle (I recently finished reading it).

While we came for ideas in using the veal we had at Zaplet, we left instead with a warm fuzzy optimistic feeling about family and life. And death: the butcher went on to show us how he kills the animals, with a purposefully-designed gun made by none other than F. Dick, better known for their utilitarian knives. We had to run back to Belgrade before the family had a chance to put me to use in the kitchen, but they have an open invitation at Zaplet. I look forward to our next encounter, and hope that I can provide as well for my future kids.