I don’t know much about “tracing the provenance” of this or that... but, you should know that what you’re describing is pretty common for those of us in flyover

I don’t know much about “tracing the provenance” of this or that... but, you should know that what you’re describing is pretty common for those of us in flyover country. Every semester or so, my roommates and I would go pick a cow out (we had ranches), have it processed, and fill up a deep freezer we had in our rented house. Pounds and pounds of steaks and more hamburger than you could ever eat. Also had an endless supply of venison. I now live close to the border and frequently head across for large carneasadas with the in-laws and extended families. We usually buy some goats... the kids play with them for a while, then we butcher them on the spot and eat them up. Sometimes, we’ll have a cow (usually hiring a few locals to butcher it... unlike a goat, a cow is a lot of work without the proper equipment.) Consequently, I don’t find the whole thing all that exotic or romantic. It’s just meat. Whether it’s butchered by me or in a factory, makes little difference to me. I’m not criticizing you... just couldn’t help but butting in to remind the urbanites that what you are describing seems sort of amusing... as I type this, there is an annoying chicken in our backyard that — for whatever strange reason — clucks late into the night... she will be in my stomach this Sunday.