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A Conversation with Del Holzer of Meyer Natural Angus

When I sat down at Maxwell & Dunne’s to interview executive chef Chris Palmer about steaks, all he wanted to talk about was his recent trip to a cattle ranch in Montana. Located in the Blackfoot Valley of western Montana, the Meyer Ranch sits on 43,000 acres of western beauty, and was where the company’s start in raising Angus cattle began. The protocol owner Robert Meyer started—and continues today, with more than 200 cattle ranchers—is now the standard for raising all-natural beef. After eating a porterhouse of Meyer’s Angus with chef Chris at Maxwell & Dunne’s, I had to find out why this meat made for some of the tastiest steak I have ever had. I called Meyer’s to ask some questions and encountered Del Holzer, upon his return from the ranch:

Del, why are your steaks better than the rest?

We originally set out to consistently provide the best-tasting beef. A simple statement that is complicated by the word “consistently.” Many beef programs produced in a traditional commodity beef environment search for high-quality beef and therefore it is a byproduct of the process and not the driving direction. They will, on occasion, provide a very good eating experience. In the foodservice business, “occasionally” is not preferred. Chefs have been asking for years, “Why can’t I get the same steak every time and why can’t it be a great eating experience?” We heard the chef and have been working to address that need.

What do you do differently on the ranch, then?

We use a much different approach than our huge contemporaries use to provide high quality beef. We do not hope to find quality in the beef plant. We bring the quality in the door. We are convinced that the only way to consistently deliver incredible beef is to invest and manage before the processing plant. We must control what happens to the animal from birth to plate to be certain the quality and consistency the chef demands will always be there. That is clearly the only way to do it.

What kind of cattle do you raise?

Only Angus cattle—real Angus cattle. Our competitors determine Angus simply if the animal’s hide is 51% black. We must have documentation of the Angus breed. This is a huge difference!

What should the canvas reader look for when they go steak shopping?

No hormones, no antibiotics at anytime. The added water weight (which runs out when cooked) and scientifically documented impact on tenderness (all suppliers of the products clearly state that tougher beef will be a result of using growth stimulants) are clearly not going to provide a better eating experience and, quite frankly, are not needed. They should also look for cattle fed on a vegetarian diet. That means no animal-based feeds are allowed at any time. It just makes sense.

What about labeling? How can you tell the animals are treated conscientiously?

You want meat that is Certified Humane. We are the only natural angus company you will find that has the commitment to be involved with a 3rd party to provide transparency to our process (unheard of), guidelines to follow, and ongoing audits to our execution of the plan. We have already proven since being Certified Humane since 2002 that our commitment to humane treatment of the animals has a big impact on consistency and overall quality. It just makes good business sense and is good ol’ common sense at the same time.

• Learn more about the humane process at certifiedhumane.org
• Learn more about Meyers at meyernaturalangus.com
• Eat their steaks at Maxwell & Dunne’s, mdsteakhouse.com

—Chris O’Hara, canvas Tasting Notes columnist

Writing this month’s canvas articles really opened my eyes. Last month, I was taking my old motorboat out for its initial run, after putting it on the mooring in Cold Spring Harbor. With more than 25 years under her belt, the Krusty Krab still plies the local waters confidently, and I was glad to see that everything was running well. I took a run up to the Sand Hole in Lloyd Neck, and noticed some baymen working the mud flats for clams at low tide. It seemed like—if you didn’t have to do it every day for a living—clamming could be a lot of fun. That inspired me to write July’s “Tasting Notes” column about one of my favorite dishes: linguine with white clam sauce, which my wife happens to specialize in. I figured, I would drink a few beers and see how many local clams I could bring home for Jen to cook.

While I was out there, I asked my fellow clammers about techniques and where to hunt them, and was surprised to discover that clamming—and shellfishing in general—was a dying industry on Long Island. I had heard of the brown tides and trouble with the local lobster harvests, but I had simply assumed—what with the “Oyster Festival” and a lengthy Long Island history of shellfishing—that the Island was still a major producer of clams, scallops, and oysters. I discovered that I couldn’t be more wrong.

I started to look into the situation further, and ended up talking with the head of the New York Seafood Council, Roger Tollefsen. He explained that Long Island, which once was the leading exporter of bay scallops, has been comparatively bereft of shellfish for the past quarter-century. I was surprised to learn that the harvests are so small, that New York no longer exports its shellfish. With the massive local focus on the environment—especially around Peconic Bay, which has become one of the world’s most pristine estuary systems—I had imagined Long Island would be teeming with seafood. I couldn’t be more wrong. Roger explained that the problem was that Peconic Bay had become too clean.

I wondered if it was really possible for an ecosystem to be too clean? Roger’s take on the situation was highly compelling. Basically, he argues that by taking out all of the pollution out of Peconic Bay, the scallops and clams have nothing left to eat.The science seems to bear out the argument. So, I guess we are stuck with a very pristine Bay, but decimated seafood industry. As someone who loves the environment and shellfish, it makes for a tough choice. Like the proverbial beat of the butterfly’s wing, everything we do in a closed system affects everything else. In the Peconic Bay, taking all of the nitrogen out of the water makes it very difficult for shellfish to spawn and grow naturally.

I don’t know whether or not adding more waste into the bay and bringing back the shellfish is the right thing to do, but it’s going to require a lot of thought and hard choices. The solutions that are correct for other estuary systems may not be right for ours. As a writer for the leading magazine on Long Island covering sustainability, it would be easy to simply present The Nature Conservancy’s stance, which is the politically correct viewpoint. I think it is more interesting to see how real people are affected by environmental policies, and learn more.

I don’t know if putting more waste into our bays to promote shellfish is the right thing to do, but I know that a Long Island without a decent oyster is just wrong. Food for thought.

By Chris O’Hara, canvas Tasting Notes columnist

By Chris O’Hara

I have had a long association with coffee, going back to my first cup in high school. Served black and sweet, in the ubiquitous “It’s Our Pleasure to Serve You” paper container, that first cup was 25 years ago. I still drink it the same way—and preferably in that Greek takeout cup whenever I can get it.

Back when I got by first editorial job in 1995, Starbucks was three years into its IPO, and opening a few stores a day, slowly creeping over to the East Coast. My job was with a trade publisher, and one of the titles was called Tea and Coffee Trade Journal. I got to learn a lot about coffee, and even got to visit a few coffee companies in Central America and the Caribbean. I saw some of the back-end of the coffee business first hand, and it amazed me how much sweat equity went into it. With over 500 billion cups of coffee consumed every single day, it takes an estimated 25 million small producers to bring it to the market. Growing and picking coffee beans is probably one of the most back-breaking and labor-intensive jobs in the world, and it all happens in the extremely poor parts of the world. That means the potential for a lot of abuse for both the land and the people working it.

So, how to make your daily cup of Joe better for you and the planet? Here are three things to look for:

• Organic certified: Many chains (even my favorite Dunkin Donuts) are starting to make sure a portion of the whole beans and brewed coffee drinks they serve come from certified organic growers. Since the specialty coffee movement basically grew up in progressive Seattle in the early 1970s, the coffee business has always been on the forefront of the organic movement, which lessens small producers’ impact on the environment.

• Fair Trade: There is a healthy debate on how much “Fair Trade” certification is helping small producers in the 3^rd world but, for now, it’s one of the few ways to try and make sure your morning cup of coffee isn’t coming at the expensive of slave labor. Fair trade coffee is purchased at a guaranteed $1.41 per pound, which means that even tiny producers are paid a living wage.

• Bird Friendly: Want to step it up a notch, and make your coffee good for your fair feathered friends? Insist on Bird-Friendly coffee, which comes exclusively from shade coffee plantations that are friendly habitats for migratory birds.

LINKS USED IN THIS ARTICLE

http://www.retroplanet.com/PROD/23792?cpid=GDF100∏=23792

http://www.starbucks.com/aboutus/csrannualreport.asp

http://www.teaandcoffee.net

http://www.ams.usda.gov/AMSv1.0/ams.fetchTemplateData.do?template=TemplateA&navID=NationalOrganicProgram&leftNav=NationalOrganicProgram&page=NOPNationalOrganicProgramHome&acct=nop

http://www.globalexchange.org/campaigns/fairtrade/coffee/

http://nationalzoo.si.edu/ConservationAndScience/MigratoryBirds/Coffee/

In the May 2008 issue of canvas magazine, writer Elyce Neuhauser’s thought-provoking article entitled “Conscious Consumption” has had a particularly strong impact on my relationship with food.

Food is a subject that borders on obsession with me, and from the proliferation of cookbooks, culinary magazines and newsletters, and cooking shows (not to mention an entire network) that exist, I know I’m not alone. We foodies are everywhere—virtually all regions and cultures share a common interest in what we consume, and have put their own spin on creating concoctions out of essentially the same general categories of ingredients. There is an unmatched level of pride and personal identity attached to food, which interestingly is a common thread spanning the globe throughout history. Food defines us, whether it’s what we cook, or what we choose to eat.

I spend an inordinate amount of time obsessing about food: cooking, eating, reading and writing about it, watching it being prepared (I can’t get enough of Giada or the Barefoot Contessa and yes, I’ll admit that while reality TV is not usually my cup of tea, I’m hooked on Top Chef, too). Dinner is a main topic of conversation with my husband, and when we are eating we tend to talk about what the next meal will be. Add the fact that my brother is a chef to the mix, and you can imagine what my conversations with him revolve around, too.

But despite all this attention I pay to this humble subject, Elyce’s article shed new light onto my fixation: how often do I really savor each bite? Focus on the flavors, textures, aromas, colors of what I’m eating? Truth be told, unless it’s a particularly delicious dark chocolate truffle—which I’ve always eaten in tiny bites, letting each one melt on my tongue until fully dissolved—I really don’t pay as much attention to my food while consuming it as I do thinking about it the rest of the day. So thanks to her, I’m actually taking more time to enjoy what I’m eating. Just now, for example, while writing this blog, between sentences I’ve been sipping a particularly delicious cup of Darjeeling tea, forcing myself to stop and really taste it rather than simply swigging it while I type. It starts off flowery, then gets deeper and stronger as it passes over my palate, then has a lingering finish that leaves such a pleasant, delicate herbal flavor behind.

Have you ever noticed that no two cups of tea taste exactly the same? Or have you ever wondered, as I have, about how we all can follow the same exact Toll House cookie recipe and no two person’s version ever tastes the same?

Do you obsess about these things, too? We’d love to know what your relationship with food is. Do you eat simply to put hunger at bay, or take time to plan your meal, and truly focus on it while you eat it? We want to know! Please post your comments below.

-Diana Murphy, canvas editor in chief