Cliff was my mother's butcher, on and off (off only when she did not live in Chapel Hill/Carrboro), for more than 35 years. My mother claims that I used to run through the store yelling "Give me Braunschweiger" when I was three years old.
In an August, 2005, coversation about a recipe for Moroccan-style meatball stew, my mother said:
"[It] Sounds wonderful except for the frozen meatballs. [Frozen meatballs are] stupid, because making the recipe as a whole takes a good deal of time, [while] making meatballs doesn't, and you can't trust those people in grocery chains at all these days. They all adulterate the meat, color it, put in various additives that you'd rather not know about. When they're not poisoning you, they do the mystery shopper thing, which is so offensive that you get sick even before you eat any meatballs. I am blessed with an independent butcher, who does't even sell frozen meat, or frozen and defrosted and then sold (that's what the chains do, we cannot guess why), and everything is cut to your design, AND the meat is a lot cheaper than in the groceries. I love this guy. He doesn't do meatballs. I've cut them out altogether, and I'm sure I'm a better person for it. I do, however, get other things which are already made, but which contain no meat, such as frozen Indian breads of various sorts which are very very good and which I have yet to figure out how to make them at home."
If you are ever near the corner of West Main Street and North Greensboro Street in Carrboro, North Carolina, go see Cliff, and ask for anything but meatballs. Tell him that Linda Oldham's son Jake says "Hi."
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