As an added service, our highly trained butchers process wild game deer, hogs, elk, alligator, birds etc. Call toll free for complete information. We also have sausage making supplies and equipment. In-House Bakery We also have an in-house bakery that makes fresh baked goodies made from scratch.
We also fill special orders for pies, pound-cakes, cupcakes, cookies, bars and more for that special occasion. A selection of local produce, smoking supplies, and other unique items are also available. What makes us better? Tillman's Meats has been proudly serving the hunting community with wild game processing for over 40 years.
No one beats us in skill, customer service and efficiency. Our standards are higher and prices are better. Each processing order is done one at a time. Orders are not mixed, but tracked and kept separate from other orders - to avoid cross-contamination.
In doing this, you can ensure the cleanliness and integrity of your meat. We offer the widest variety of processing options.
Here are the rules: Cleaned Quartered On Ice. Our butchers are easy to work with, they ask that when you bring your game, it is:.
In an iced down cooler that keeps the meat below 41 degrees Skinned, gutted, and quartered Clean and free of all foreign debris and residue - including hair, bullets, arrowheads etc. We Do It Your Way - the widest variety of services offered: We'll take your instructions upon delivery and in case you don't know what to do, we'll happily offer suggestions and recommendations.
We offer the following processing options:. You have the option of having your game meats wood smoked! This is especially a common request for sausage fans. Call and chat with our butchers to discuss your processing options, prices etc. Our in-store prices and coupons are unbeatable. Related to the Pig Feet. Pork Tenderloin. Details Quick Shop. Thick Cut Bacon. Country Cured Ham. Pork Fat.
Pig Tails. Pork Belly. Joints are slippery suckers. Synovial fluid, clear and silky with the consistency of thin mucous, cushions the space between them. When your knife cuts around the sinews and breaks the connection between two bones, the synovial fluid flows. The wetness is most extreme on the cow, which has the biggest bones and therefore the most fluid.
On pigs the synovial fluid is only substantial on the larger joints. I'd been using the pistol grip to dislodge the tendons at the joint nearest to the hoof, my right hand gripping the knife tightly with the tip pointing downward, my left hand supporting the pig's foot. When my knife hit the bone it faltered against the slick joint. The tip of the knife landed right into my left hand.
My skin parted like the pages of a book and large spigots of dark blood, almost purple in hue, spilled onto the pigs' feet. I gasped in surprise and dropped my knife on the table. Stabbing is different from cutting. Years ago when I'd cut off part of a fingertip it took a few seconds for me to recognize that I was missing the end of my finger.
It's a strange out-of-body experience when you stare down at your hand and wonder if you've done any damage; the cut is surgical, sharp, and clean. This is especially so at the shop, where the knives are razor sharp and the chilled meat, straight from the cooler, can dull the sensation in your fingertips. The bloodier the cut of meat, the more likely it is that you'll mistake the animal's blood with that of your own during cutting. It's fairly common practice to stop midway during cutting to examine your hand—you can never be too sure.
A stab, on the other hand, registers instant shock and pain. The moment the tip of the knife went into my hand, in the tender area between the thumb and the rest of the hand, blood started gushing at the point of entry.
It made my stomach turn to see the rate at which the blood was escaping from the wound. I must have stayed still at the table for ten seconds or so, staring dumbly down at the wound, before I snapped back into action. I grabbed a paper towel and walked over to where Bryan Mayer was standing. Bryan, who's been everything from a fishmonger to an indie rocker, can tell you more about meat and fish than just about anyone else I know.
I'd been holding the wound closed with the paper towel. We walked over to the sink so that I could wash the wound. The moment I lifted the paper towel from my hand the bleeding started again. My hand quivered uncontrollably when the water hit the wound. I reapplied pressure to the wound, which I estimated was about one-third of an inch wide and just as deep.
Everyone grinned at me as I stood by, holding my hands above my head to control the bleeding. The moment I lowered my hand below my heart I could feel the blood, like warm wine rushing down the throat, surge back to the wound.
So I'd raise my hand again. I watched as the rest of the crew continued cutting. I'd bled over quite a few trotters and hocks on the table; Bryan threw them away and wiped my blood off the table.
My right hand was already itching to touch meat again. I grew angry—first at myself for having been so careless and then, curiously, at the rest of the crew. I coveted everyone else's ability to butcher. To remove myself from the temptations of the cutting table, I pulled out my computer to write.
An hour later I began to feel faint. My breathing was ragged and my head, spinning. My entire left arm felt like a dead weight hanging off of my body and all of the joints in my left hand were aching. When I got up to walk over to the table the ground did not feel stable underneath my feet. But that's normal, right? Bryan walked over to me. Nope, looks good.
I drank some more ice water and sat down in a quiet corner of the shop. I thought about the hocks , those glorious hocks, and the trotters that we had to toss into the trash.
I wondered if I would be able to cut the next day. It would be such an ignominious return to Brooklyn if I couldn't continue to cut. That night I took two Advil and went to bed. The tiredness after working a full day at the shop is like nothing I've experienced.
It's a numbing exhaustion that robs you of all desire and mental acuity. When your body hits the bed and you settle in for the night, you notice that your breathing is deep and heavy; your chest rises and falls dramatically and you follow every exhalation to its absolute end. As I lay there I thought about life in the shop.
The disparity between the image of the rockstar chef or butcher and the realities of working in the food industry seemed all the more absurd. Being a butcher has very little to do with covering your arms with tattoos or breaking down pigs in record time.
It's the minutia of the shop—the mundane tasks, like scraping fat and meat from skin and bones, and cutting and arranging chops and steaks for the display counter only to store them back into the coolers at the end of the day, that keeps a shop functioning. Stabs and cuts are an inevitable part of the work. When injuries occur, you work through the inconvenience, which slows you and therefore everyone else down.
Though my left hand ached the next day, the cut had stopped bleeding. Parted ever so slightly, the wound felt significantly less tender and vulnerable. I slapped on a bandage and got back to work. After a few minutes I shed the timidity of using my left hand. Soon the edges of the bandage were stenciled with fat and blood, though this time not my own. Not that I'd been ungrateful before, but I was never quite as thankful as I was on that day for the intricacy of my own bones and joints, so like that of the animals we butchered.
Pigs' feet are an ideal addition to stocks. There's very little meat, but plenty of gelatin in the skin and bones to give body to the liquid.
If you're going to eat them whole, it would be a shame not to crisp the skin. Though the Chinese are fond of braising trotters and eating them off the knuckles, I would argue that there's too much skin and fat around the joints that's soft and uninteresting to eat without the benefit of crisping, either by deep-frying or grilling.
Splitting the feet is a must if you're grilling—since trotters are finger-food, you're best off breaking them down into portions that are easily gnawed.
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