An Ode to Moe, the Butcher.
I’m heading home, walking down Elizabeth St, it’s late and I have to pick up something to make for dinner. I’m dreading having to go to the Gougers Garage, when I spy a small Alabanese butcher store. The little bell tinkles as I open the door and step into a kinder, gentler, funnier world.
An Ode to Moe, the Butcher.
I’m heading home, walking down Elizabeth St, it’s late and I have to pick up something to make for dinner. I’m dreading having to go to the Gougers Garage, when I spy a small Alabanese butcher store. The little bell tinkles as I open the door and step into a kinder, gentler, funnier world.
Two guys are hanging out in the shop; a young skinny guy and a medium age guy. They are discussing women. Moe, with his pale blue eyes and white hair, is listening in while he putters around behind the counter. The vibe is neighborhood barber shop and the guys barely acknowledge me.
I ask Moe what kind of steak does he have. He taps on a nearby aged rib-eye and smiles. I agree, it looks damn good. We negotiate the size and he starts cutting away.
Meanwhile, the boys are getting a little loud as they ‘dis women, and I jump in to remind them that I’m listening. That’s all it took to break the ice.
Skinny Guy says, “I love the sound of the saw going through the meat, and then the chop.” He’s right, it is a great sound, a portend of good things to come. Skinny Guy goes to leave the shop, and Medium Guy says, “Have fun in Cannes.”
I say, “You’re going to Cannes?” Skinny Guy says, “Yes, my first film was accepted at the Cannes Film Fesitval.”
How freakin’ cool is that? Skinny Guy turns out to be Brian Paccione, and you can view his films at his website: The Heartlands. Remember, when Brian makes it big, you heard it first at Moe’s Butcher Shop and Aroma Cucina. Email him for the password, and tell him I sent you.
This leads Moe to tell the story about how the Scorsese family lived on the block and Martin Scorsese’s father would complain to Moe that his son was always asking for money for film. And Moe said, “Keep buying Marty the film. What if he amounts to something?” Skinny Guy Brian shakes his head and says, “I love this story.” I'm guessing that is just one of the legendary stories you could pick up at Moe's.
Brian leaves and we all wish him great success at Cannes.
Meanwhile, Moe is busy trimming my steak. He never weighs it, just tells me how much. Medium Guy and I naturally start discussing how I will cook this gorgeous piece of meat. He counsels the broiler; I explain my cast iron sear method. We agree to disagree.
Moe hands me the bag of steak and asks me to call him and let him know how it was. Instead I promise to stop by and tell him because that would be way more fun.
So serendipity led me to a seared rib eye steak with parsley/garlic butter, a 1991 Pommard that we had stashed for a special occasion and a great story.
Now those are good reasons to love NY!