Ploughman's Lunch .010: Meat
CWD BnB, reading, observing, eating.
My friend Altman spent nearly 18-hours with us last week. He arrived amidst the chaos of trying to get the kids to sleep and endured three hours of dancing and giggling and reading and pitter-pattering and countless ups-and-downs before Kiddo and the Warthog were soundly sleeping — the Monkey being the easiest of the three, for now. And then, finally, we were able to sit down to eat.
As we ate — fresh greens, noodles, a peanut sauce, and double-cut porkchops from pigs raised at the farm — we talked, catching up after far too long. We talked about kids and family, friends we’ve known and places we’ve been, and we talked about food. Half in jest, I asked him, at the end of the meal, just as we were about to retire to bed, if he’d like to come to the farm with me in the morning, to help with the animals. And Altman — who has always been up for anything, ever a gamer1 — agreed.
So the next morning, after getting up for a workout (shirtless), helping to prepare the kids for school, and getting some bread in the oven, off we set — tandem, astride my e-bike, entertaining all who drove passed — toward the farm.
The work was quick with two, Altman taking to it naturally, and soon we found ourselves back at the Ranch, breaking fresh bread, again, over a breakfast of duck eggs, sourdough, and bacon. I remarked that the bacon came from the piglets of the pigs we had just fed, the eggs from down the road, the bread from our oven. Altman responded that this was like staying at a rustic bed-and-breakfast, experiences included. I was flattered.
And then, over coffee, we talked about this idea of authenticity, about connectedness to our food — about radical living. How Altman wondered if being so close to the animals he would inevitably eat would change the way he thought about meat. Would make the act harder, or more sacred?
I think — as you probably would guess — that it is the latter. This radical connection we form with animals, with the land, with everything and everywhere, makes the inevitable consumption of anything more powerful. No longer can you mindlessly devour a dozen chicken wings in one sitting: those were the chicks you just fed. Your pork tenderloin, meticulously presented, is half a life.
Altman left, far too quickly — by no fault of his own — with the conversation still rich with possibility. As he left, he promised to write a five-star review of his stay and gifted me a worn copy of Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. I flipped it open after he left. Unsurprisingly, the book opened to my favorite stanza in Song of Myself:
I have perceiv'd that to be with those I like is enough, To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough, To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough, To pass among them or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment, what is this then? I do not ask for any more delight. I swim in it as in a sea.
Whitman continues, later, that “all things please the soul, but these [things] please the soul well.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Since today is the Fourth of July — and we’re heading into a long weekend — as is traditional, we’ll continue with a Ploughman’s Lunch. Altman’s review is also below, because what better is there in life than sharing the company of good friends?
We’ll see you back here next week with well-pleased — and hopefully well-rested — souls.
I. Reading
Altman Reviews the CWD BnB Experience:
Upon entry, I was immediately swallowed up by the mirth and merriment of these 3-foot tall, adorable savages. They bounced from furniture to furniture with a boundless otherworldly energy, their laughter and zeal for life an immediate salve for a traveler's weariness. Mr. and Mrs. CWD looked upon the scene with an equal parts joy and “blink twice if you need help” look. No help was needed, it was nice to step into an establishment where everything isn’t scripted - No stoic-faced hostess dribbling empty pleasantries here… [continued in footnotes]2
My Liver Dinner — Serendipitously, luckily, or perhaps inevitably,
published this lovely piece meditating on the same ideas the very day after Altman left. In it, she describes her own radical connection to meat, to food, to the world. continues the theme, extending the thinking beyond meat — beyond domestication and husbandry and hunting and angling — to plants, to ourselves. Gratitude, I’m reminded — now, and in all things.On Food: Facing Food Your Food — Three gives birth to all things, so naturally,
’s reflection on connection, gratitude, and radical reverence to and with and for our food would arrive alongside those first two essays. , as always, writes with such force, creating such a tangled maelstrom of emotion — and caps it off with a beautiful metaphor. We must eat or we must die.The Prophecy of David Foster Wallace — Though I never finished Infinite Jest, I do enjoy David Foster Wallace’s writing.
does a terrific job summarizing one of Wallace’s best features: his sincerity. As a culture, we’re so preoccupied with image — one of the simplest acts we can do to regain autonomy is to live a more authentic version of ourselves.The R-Word — I enjoyed
’s writing on religion as a broader force than purely theology, but instead as the "ligament” that binds us to a shared sense of the sacred. Regardless of how you practice it, this is a notion that should be taken seriously.All the Little Data — In his “Cowboy Havamal,” Jackson Crawford relates the wisdom of Odin through the lens of the Old West. I couldn’t help but thinking of that translation as I read this terrific reflection from
:“Don’t git too goddamned smart, now, there’s a measure for ever’thing. And don’t think it’s for nothing that the stupid people tend to be the happier ones, too.”
Looking for Lights in the Swamp —
describes perfectly the reason why we need to venture out, to be in the woods, to experience firsthand the grandeur of the world. Because if you’re not out there, you’ll never see the pennies.Zuma's Butte, Montana, 2024 — Our public lands stand for now, but
writes so eloquently in this piece why the fight for them still — and always will — matter.America’s Internal Brain Drain — I’ve been thinking a lot about the use of AI lately; how to use it myself, how to react to its use when I see it, how to prepare my own kids for its inevitable ubiquity. This essay by
is hauntingly depressing — but also an important reminder on building a solid foundation across cultures and disciplines, on why we need to read books.Teach the Human not the Tool —
’s thesis on educating children dovetails so nicely with the piece above. I quote: “Screens and computers [are tools] and require a special place in education. And that place is very far away.” through the lens of D-Day, explains exactly why Patrick’s view above is so important. He writes: “We still need humans, with the resilience to deal with adversity, the discernment to suss out the signal from the noise, and guided by an ethos that prioritizes both individual virtue and the flourishing of the collective.” And those humans, those resilient, flourishing humans, need to be ones that have a grounded — and broad — view of the world as it stands.3Texture — Speaking of AI,
presents a powerful antidote to the sleek and flawless output that these models provide with this textural act of rebellion., like Jesse above, meditates on the need to do real, physical things and argues that sharing that creative output is essential to being human.Life is Not a Simulation: It’s Magic —
’s essay ties together the dangers of unearned wisdom, the power of embodied experience, the need to live in the world, and the importance of attunement to the universe in this terrific essay about magic — which is something I’m trying to invoke more of in my own life.The Heroine’s Journey — Finally, I quite enjoyed this piece from
on the Heroine’s Journey viewed through the lens of Encanto. I’ve been enmeshed in the Hero’s Journey for as long as I can remember — now, with Kiddo in the mix, I’m realizing the importance of that balance, and, even more so, the importance of letting her see for herself the value she can bring to our family, to the world.Why the Fourth of July Still Matters — I’ll finish with
’s terrific treatise on the importance — yes, even today — of the Fourth of July. Because today, we celebrate our Independence Day!II. Observing
III. Eating
The highest compliment Grandfather CWD can bestow.
The entire review:
“Paradise Found”
One Weary Traveler’s Review of the CWD Ranch Bed & Breakfast
Upon entry, I was immediately swallowed up by the mirth and merriment of these 3 foot tall, adorable savages. They bounced from furniture to furniture with a boundless otherworldly energy, their laughter and zeal for life an immediate salve for a traveler's weariness. Mr. and Mrs. CWD looked upon the scene with an equal parts joy and “blink twice if you need help” look. No help was needed, it was nice to step into an establishment where everything isn’t scripted - No stoic faced hostess dribbling empty pleasantries here.
Once the kiddos had gone down for the night, we sat down for dinner. Tonight’s dish was an Asian pork with noodles on a bed of greens, family style. Mr. CWD immediately apologized, “The pork is a bit dry, but here is a homemade broth to add if you’d like”. I respectfully disagreed; It was succulent, bold in flavor, and tender. Had I not been afraid of appearing rude, I would have gone back up for thirds.
Dessert was a “Brownie Batter” ice cream from a Boston staple ice cream shop. Mr. and Mrs. CWD took turns eating straight from the carton - Even a James Beard nominated Farm to Table author lives like us normal folk!
Dinner & Dessert: ★★★★★
My accommodation was a tastefully decorated room with my own private bathroom. Temperature, airflow, threadcount, you name it, everything was superb. I wanted to take some time to gaze out the window and enjoy the serenity of the nearby pond, but the day's activities and the heartiness of the meal had worn me out. I dressed for bed, made it through a “day” of Solvej Balle’s “On the Calculation of Volume, Part 1” and fell into a dreamless sleep.
Accommodation: ★★★★★
I awoke to a nearby Heron’s Skeow call, five minutes before my alarm was to go off. One way that the CWD Ranch Bed & Breakfast seeks to distinguish itself is by its emphasis on physical health. They offer a morning 1:1 workout with one of their esteemed trainers - Options included Rowing, Boxing, Rock Climbing, and Olympic Lifting. I opted for the latter due to the eagerness in which Mr. CWD explained this option to me.
In most world class facilities, a personal trainer will set you back a mortgage. At the CWD B&B where physical fitness is a major pillar of their ethos, this service is complimentary! The warm-up, as Mrs. CWD briefed me on earlier, was beyond thorough. The main workout movements were carefully explained and demonstrated to me. I really admired his uncanny ability to gauge my fitness level and modify the program to give me the best workout possible. In true CWD fashion, even the playlist was painstakingly curated - Everything from Marc Cohen and Blake Shelton to the immortal Aaron Dontez Yates*.
Before I knew it, 45 minutes had flown by and it was time to begin the next part of the CWD B&B experience. Boy, what I would give to be back in the CWD gym getting a good sweat in.
Health & Wellness: ★★★★★
Those of us who wait on bated breath for each week’s CWD exposé (and there are many), are familiar with the emphasis Mr. CWD places on being close to your food and understanding where it comes from, or in other words, being a “Radical Eater”. After years of reading his literature, taking his advice, and wearing his gear (huge fan of the hats), I was a bit nervous to meet him….After all, Proust did say, or rather inferred, “Never meet your heroes, you’ll only be disappointed”. I am pleased to say, that not only was this fear completely unfounded, but my depth of understanding for “Radical Eating” grew under Mr. CWD’s in-person tutelage.
Before I even had time to shower, I was whisked away to a local farm where Mr. CWD volunteers on a weekly basis. We cleaned up the stalls for the goats and the sheep, fed the pigs and piglets, and looked after Belgian rabbits the size of Labradors. All the while, he explained to me how the farm takes care of/harvests the animals and works in a mutually symbiotic relationship with nearby farms and homesteads. At one point in the experience, I mentioned how I wasn’t sure I could take care of these animals on a regular basis only to end up eating them. For me, this seemed to be a major obstacle on my journey to truly exemplify “Radical Eating”. Mr. CWD paused his laboring, wiped the sweat from his brow, and reiterated how “radical eating” is a spectrum. He mentioned how you don’t need to move from a city to a farm, raise cattle, and only eat from your land to be a “radical eater”. Just by learning more about your food source, supporting local farmers, shopping at farmer’s markets, etc. you’ve begun your “radical eating” journey. But to my particular inquiry he replied, “Isn’t it better for an animal to have 100 good days and 1 bad one instead of 101 bad days?” The truth was then self-evident. Also, Proust:0 this weary traveler: 1.
Community Service: ★★★★★
At this point in the day, I was famished and ready for a big hearty breakfast. Mr. CWD threw some bacon from the previously mentioned farm in the largest cast iron pan I had ever seen. While that sizzled and filled the house with a sumptuousness reminiscent of holiday mornings, he brought some of Uncle Eddie’s famous lite roast coffee to a boil and took out a fresh baked loaf of sourdough from the oven. Once the bacon had reached the perfect level of crisp, he proceeded to fry half a dozen duck eggs he got the day before from a neighbor in the remaining bacon fat.
For those of you who, like me, primarily get your eggs from a grocery store, let me tell you, you can’t imagine the difference. These duck eggs had dandelion hued yolks the size of billiard balls. As they skittered upon the bacon fat, I closed my eyes and was immediately transported to a simpler time. I pictured myself lounging in a handmade rocking chair on a patio overlooking some sublime Southwestern landscape. The sun drifts to sleep behind the Chisos mountains, while a speckled pup naps behind the shade of a weathered wagon wheel. All the while, the smell of freshly prepared provisions wafts out the front door.
We filled our plates with the bacon and eggs, lathered several slices of sourdough with butter, and poured some of Uncle Eddie’s elixir into some mugs. I pity the man who has never experienced such rustic decadence.
Breakfast: ★★★★★
Like all good things, my time at the CWD B&B was coming to an end. However, before I had a chance to mourn this reality, I was surprised with what every CWD superfan dreams of - A personal tour of where the pen strikes the paper, the Holy Grail, the office of CWD’s Chief Editor. A non-imposing desk uncharacteristic of the literary titan that uses it sits in front of a small window that overlooks the grounds. Whatever space is not taken up by books of all genres is covered with Americana, athletic achievements, and children’s art. It is something to behold.
I could hardly contain my excitement and feverishly plucked books off the shelf to discuss with Mr. CWD. We chatted about surrealism in Murakami’s work, modern day American Gothic authors taking the baton from McCarthy, and how different cultures’ mythologies influence almost all works of current literature. In true CWD fashion, I was handed a few books to take home with me - Works on the battle of Thermopylae, Norse mythology, and an anthology on famous writers’ working styles.
CWD “Behind the Scenes” VIP Tour: ★★★★★
I gathered my belongings and set them down by the front door. As a wave of melancholia washed over me, Mr. CWD approached with a “goodie bag” of sorts. It was a cooler filled with enough ground beef to feed a family for 3 months, venison steaks and sausages from a successful bow hunt he went on a few months prior (All of these were exceptional, especially the homemade sausages), and the cherry on top, some authentic CWD swag. We said our “Goodbyes for now” and I made my way to the next destination on my East coast itinerary.
Leaving the grounds, I had a dichotomous feeling welling up inside of me. I felt satiated in mind, body, and soul, but at the same time, couldn’t help but mourn the fact that my time at the CWD B&B was over. The further I got from the grounds, the less I could taste the saccharine sweetness in the air, the softer the birds sang, and the vibrancy of the leaves waned. Even the deciduous forest seemed to be beckoning me to return with their leafy boughs pointing back towards the ranch.
I’ve regaled you with this lengthy review that is, if anything, an under representation of the CWD B&B’s majesty. And for that, I apologize. I guess you’ll just have to make the trip out yourself
Overall Experience: ★★★★★
At the risk of highlighting one author twice,
also makes this case in his essay “The Myth of Automated Learning” — an essay I’m fairly certain turned me onto anyway.
The CWD BnB sounds amazing! Almost on par with Dwight Schrute’s even though he didn’t like for it to be called a BnB… (hopefully you watched the office back in the day to get that reference)
Lyrical writing about a lyrical kife