Meet 3 Butchers of the 'Burgh and Pittsburgh's ‘Brisket Boss’
We visit Salem's halal butcher shop, the butchery program at Whitfield restaurant and the Butcher on Butler. Plus, smoking tips from the Brisket Boss.
photos by Laura Petrilla
Salem's Market and Grill
2923 Penn Ave. Strip District 412/235-7828
The walk-in cooler at Salem’s Market and Grill is a menagerie of recently living ruminants: more than 50 kid goats, nags, lamb, mutton, veal and heifer cows hang on hooks, ready to be broken down into primals, steaks and chops by one of the establishment’s six skilled butchers.
“Everything you see here was slaughtered yesterday,” says Abdullah Salem, owner and general manager of the operation.
Salem’s is a halal butchery, meaning that all meat must be processed according to Islamic dietary law known as Dhabīhah (). Animals must be humanely raised and healthy before slaughter, and a blessing is said over the animal before it is killed with a swift pass of a sharp knife through its jugular vein.
Halal butchery shares many similarities with kashrut, a set of Jewish dietary laws that includes instructions on animal processing, as well as the prohibition of consuming certain animals, such as pork. In fact, it was a kosher butcher, the late Wilfred Weiss, that helped Salem’s to move from Oakland to its current Strip District location in 2010 thanks to a $400,000 no-interest, no-contract loan. “Just a handshake. Him and my dad, straight-up,” Salem says.
His father, Massaud, founded the business in 1981.
Salem’s clientele is a study in diversity. One of the strengths of the family-run butcher shop is that it can cater to the specific needs and desires of its mixed audience in a way that mass-market grocery stores can’t. For example, Salem says, “Our Italian customers come in, and if the goat is under 20 pounds, they don’t want it. Our African customers come in, and if it’s not an old goat, they don’t want it.”
The majority of the meat sold at Salem’s was raised in Washington County and later slaughtered at Nema Food Co. in McKeesport. Salem’s stocks harder-to-find yet now in-demand off-cuts such as hearts, intestines, hocks and brains. “You’ll rarely find a farmer that isn’t happy to cater to an international population,” Salem says.
A diverse clientele and chef-driven passion for offal have made his butcher shop a draw. “Livers used to be nothing. My dad would give them away for free. He’d take all the tails and make lentil soup for the workers. Same with the heads. Now we have to order extra,” he says.
Because Salem’s practices whole-animal butchery and has an adjoining restaurant (one of Pittsburgh Magazine’s 2017 Best Restaurants), it can offer custom cuts of meat while keeping prices relatively low in relation to the quality of the meat it’s selling. “Whatever doesn’t sell out of the meat counter, or if someone wants a couple of steaks from a rack, we’ll take it next door and do something with it. We’d have to sell stuff double the price if we didn’t have the kitchen,” Salem says.
Still, price remains the biggest challenge to the future of the butcher shop. Feedlot-raised and industrially slaughtered beef in the United States, as well as imported lamb from as far away as Australia, retail for significantly less money than animals from small farms, even if they are locally raised and processed. Whole Australian lamb, for instance, recently sold for $3.49 per pound compared to $6.49 for local lamb (the local price is more variable; Salem works with county fairs to purchase 4H animals in the summer).
“It’s physically impossible to compete with them on price. We focus on quality and service. Some things I can win, some things I can’t. So we’ll just keep on moving forward,” Salem says.
120 S. Whitfield St. East Liberty, 412/626-3090 [whitfieldpgh.com]
On Monday mornings, a team of chefs lines up in a loading dock outside Whitfield in East Liberty to haul hunking primals of a cow from Jubilee Hilltop Ranch in Bedford County to the restaurant’s subterranean kitchen. The restaurant at Ace Hotel, conceptualized by Brent Young, a Pittsburgh native who co-owns the high-end butchery The Meat Hook in Brooklyn, is committed to using as many whole animals as it can on its various menus.
Most restaurants in Pittsburgh and elsewhere order selections of meat delivered vacuum-sealed in pre-cut portions. This particularly is the case with cattle, massive beasts weighing several hundred pounds. Each cow contains a smattering of prime steaks, a good portion of less-prestigious cuts and heaps of bones, fat and gristle.
There’s an advantage in sourcing the prime steaks this way (the restaurant will order more of these if demand outstrips supply). “You can’t get meat that tastes like this if you’re cutting it into smaller portions,” says Whitfield Executive Chef Bethany Zozula.
But that benefit comes with a challenge — what do you do with the secondary cuts, which vastly outweigh the prestige parts? “You have to get creative with what your dishes are,” Zozula says. “We have breakfast, lunch, dinner and events, so we’re able to use everything.”
Whitfield’s head butcher is Steve Beachy; he is also the restaurant’s sous chef. Beachy started butchering about eight years ago while working at Craft in New York City and honed his skills as the lead butcher at now-closed Marty’s Market in the Strip.
It takes Beachy about an hour to break down a half-cow into the parts that later will appear on Whitfield’s menu as steaks, roasts, burgers and broths. He starts from the front section of the cow — the chuck — and works backward.
Beachy says he has “an arsenal of knives” at his disposal but primarily uses his boning knife to break down the beast. After years of practice, he knows where muscle separates from muscle, where tendon can be cut from bone and when brute force is a necessary choice.
“It’s a lot of pushing and pulling to move the muscles and then light work with the knife,” he says as he heaves part of the shoulder, exposing a gap between muscle and bone before delicately cutting through a ball-and-socket joint, holding his boning knife with what’s known in the trade as a pistol grip.
Beachy uses a two-foot hacksaw when he cuts through smaller bones such as the chine bone, but only for the final bit. He delicately slices through the meat with a knife so as not to damage its fibers, something that would diminish a diner’s experience; only when he hits bone will he use the saw.
He rips through stock bones with an industrial band saw and uses the same machine to divide the restaurant’s porterhouse steaks. Since they’re a prime cut — the 2-plus-pound steaks go for $80 — he cleans each one with a device known as a bone-dust scraper.
Zozula says that she and her staff have embraced the challenge, always playing with how to use the less-prestigious parts of the cow. Potatoes cooked in tallow — there’s a lot of fat to melt down in half of a cow — are a big hit as a side for steaks. And beef shanks cooked for a special event were such a success that Zozula now orders additional ones for events.
The kitchen team always is exploring different ways to use every part of the cows they get, so keep an eye peeled on the butcher’s section of Whitfield’s menu as that’s where these “projects” are featured.
Butcher On Butler
5145 Butler St., Lawrenceville, 412/781-2157
Business isn’t easy for Mike Rado, owner of Butcher on Butler in Lawrenceville. It’s tough to compete with upscale groceries and vast, bargain-basement emporiums, even if Rado’s prices are competitive. The majority of consumers prefer the ease of one-stop shopping to multi-stop, specialty marketing. Rado, who opened his butcher shop in 2014, is aiming to change shoppers’ habits through a mix of selling a high-quality product combined with an added cut of personal touch and expertise that the big stores can’t offer.
“I want to see people support all the small food businesses. Visit them a couple times a week instead of going to the grocery store once every two weeks. Shopping for food shouldn’t be a chore,” he says.
Rado ought to know. He’s been in the food business for 23 years, most of them as a chef. The butcher grew up in eastern Ohio and worked in New York and Las Vegas for heavy hitters such as Daniel Boulud and Joel Robuchon.
After he moved to Pittsburgh, Rado worked as chef at Rivers Casino and later at Jackson’s in Canonsburg. He was miserable. “I knew what it took to get to the top of this profession. I didn’t want to make the sacrifice (particularly when it came to spending as much time with his daughter, Pearl, as he wanted to). I didn’t know it at the time, but I was looking for an exit strategy,” he says.
Rado found himself spending hours at what then was Foster’s Meats. “Bruce, Bobby and Freddy Jones would be sitting back drinking Iron and listening to the Buccos. I’d come down for a pound of bacon and end up staying for a few hours,” he says.
When Bruce passed away suddenly, Rado decided to buy the business. He was turned down by 21 banks and eventually cashed in his Rivers Casino 401K plan. Foster’s Meats was reborn as Butcher on Butler.
Rado didn’t have any formal butchery training when he opened the shop, but he did enough prep work in fine-dining to feel he had a headstart when he opened. “They’re all pretty much the same, just different sizes,” he says of the various animals he breaks down in the shop.
Rado’s meat comes from a variety of sources: lamb from the celebrated herds of Elysian Fields, whole hogs from local purveyors such as Goodness Grows Farm and quarters of beef from ranchers in western PA.; he’d like to dig deeper into local beef sourcing and purchase half- and whole-animals like he did when he started, but business currently doesn’t support that.
The old-fashioned feel of the shop remains; Rado made a deliberate decision not to try to modernize it. “It reminds people that it hasn’t been that long that we’ve been dissociated from where our food came from. Let’s get back to that,” he says.
The advantage, he says, is that having your food butchered by a professionally trained chef means you’re going to get a level of service that’s hard to find at a chain store. Want a new recipe for a tried-and-true cut? The butcher has you covered. Eager to explore a new cut or perhaps cook lamb for the first time? Butcher has your back.
“Get to know your butchers. Get to know your purveyors. Get to know your farmers. Don’t go to the farmers market just to be seen, actually shop at them,” Rado says.
The Brisket Boss
It’s a sunny spring afternoon, and approximately 40 work colleagues, neighbors and friends from Ebenezer Baptist Church in the Hill District snake through the kitchen and into the hallway of the Allison Park home of Quintin B. Bullock.
Bullock, 59, is president of Community College of Allegheny County. His day-to-day is full of organizing, cajoling and paying attention the little details. From time-to-time, he uses those skills for another task: chief pitmaster and head cook.
A couple of times per year, Bullock throws a barbecue for his friends and family. He goes all-out for the events, crafting a culinary bonanza that features some of the best barbecue in the region.
He woke up at 4:30 a.m. for the final push of a days-long solo mission during which he prepared enough food to feed an armada: trays of smoked brisket, ribs, chicken, sausage, collard greens, baked beans, mac and cheese, potato salad and peach cobbler. Plus, to wash it all down, Bullock’s celebrated fizzy, sweet and tart lemonade.
“My grandmother was a good cook. I would stand and watch her make greens, fried chicken and things,” he says.
The Houston native left his hometown in 1989 but never stopped feeding his culinary roots. First in Rochester, later in Virginia and now in Pittsburgh, where he’s lived for four years, one thing remains consistent: “Everywhere I go, I’ve always done the barbecue,” he says.
Bullock learned his craft by practicing — he throws a couple of cookouts per year and also occasionally will auction his goods for a charity event — but it doesn’t hurt that his best friend, Henry Gatlin, is co-owner of one of the most prestigious barbecue establishments in Houston. “I’m getting close to perfecting their dirty rice. They won’t tell me the recipe, so I have to figure it out,” Bullock says.
Six smokers are arrayed in his backyard. “You know how everyone has a toy? Those are mine. You buy them, and you try them, and you find the ones that are your favorites,” he says.
His favorite is a cylindrical Weber Smokey Mountain Cooker Smoker. It’s on this that he prepares his should-be-famous brisket. He seasons whole primals with a mix of salt, seasoning salt, Ac’cent Flavor Enhancer and “that’s all I can tell you except for that pepper is the key.”
Bullock smokes the brisket for 18 hours over Stubbs hardwood charcoal and chunks of hickory which were soaked in water for three hours before hitting the fire. Fat and flesh meld together with smoke and char. It’s a transportive bite.
How does he do it? “Organize everything ahead of time. Know what it’s going to take to execute it and go for it,” he says.