Article by Miriam Rubin, Food Columnist and Cookbook Author
In New York State’s Hudson Valley, north of New York City, local businesses are working to shorten the supply chain between producer/grower and the dinner table. Just as gardening is having a big moment due to COVID-19, local meat and poultry are hot. In lieu of venturing to the supermarket, there are different, and maybe better ways to get your beef.
One could go to a folksy drive-up farm store, place an order from a bucolic farm or do contactless shopping at the meat automat. The what?
For those who are too young to remember, the automat, run by Horn & Hardart, was a food vending machine. New York City’s first one opened in 1912, in Times Square. Coffee was brewed fresh every twenty minutes and the mac and cheese was said to be memorable. You put your coin in the slot, you took out your food. The last one closed in 1991.
Childhood memories of the automat were the inspiration behind CEO and Founder Joshua Applestone’s latest company. Except because he’s a whole-animal butcher, his vending machines sell local, farm-raised, ethically-produced meat and poultry. Formerly, he owned Fleisher’s Grass-fed and Organic Meats, started in Kingston, NY. He sold it in 2013.
The new venture, Applestone Meat Company, has stores in Hudson and Stone Ridge, with expansion plans that include New York City and Westchester County, New York.
Walk into a gleaming store; it’s lined with vending machines resembling old-fashioned revolving pie cases. Peer into the automat’s plexiglass drawer to view your whole chicken, shoulder lamb chops or Korean short ribs. Slide the drawer a bit to make the selection, then dip your credit card. Pull the drawer, grab the product and off you go. All done but the cooking — they can help with that too, providing on-line techniques and recipes. And, should you need a pork loin at 3 AM, they’re open then, too.
Seamless and contact-free. Behind the scenes, the drawers are stocked by unseen workers. A customer service window, once staffed, is now closed shut. Tape lines on the floor urge safe social distancing. Could there be a more appropriate store in COVID-time?
Applestone Meat Company began life as a processing facility to serve local Hudson Valley farmers. Because of growing demand, he pivoted to retail, then — it seems prescient — he changed the model to self-service. “It just clicked,” he said, “the idea of a self-service shopping area… it would be a huge convenience to people.”
Now, with the Pandemic, the concept is genius: “We want our stores to be a safe space,” Applestone said. “Initially that meant building trust with our customers so that they know the meat we stock is sourced from animals raised without added hormones or antibiotics by farmers who are committed to their well-being. Now, that also means working to create a space where both our customers and staff feel protected.”
At their processing plant in Stone Ridge, they work with the whole animal, not primal cuts. Animals are broken down and fabricated into familiar cuts, some further processed into sausages and meatballs. Unlike much of the available local meat, it’s sold fresh, unless requested otherwise. And it all sells out, every week.
Applestone works to keep prices reasonable. He noted that “entry point items,” like chicken thighs and ground beef are priced to get people interested in using local meat. Even higher-end cuts such as ribeye steak run just about $19 per pound — “we’re trying to have options for everyone,” he said. But prices may have to rise. “The increased costs haven’t hit our supply lines, yet.”
Is there enough beef? Can Applestone Meat Company and their automat keep up with demand? Applestone feels they can meet expectations. “Our supply lines (aka farms) can scale up with proper notice,” he said. “They [the farmers] can actually feed all of the population in its surrounding area.”
Looking for a more pastoral experience, place an on-line order at Kinderhook Farm, where they raise high-end grass-fed beef, grazed lamb and pastured pork and poultry on a fairy-tale beautiful 1,000-acre farm. Before the Pandemic, on a sleepy Sunday, you could drop by, wander the grounds and choose your bacon or short ribs from stocked freezers. Farm tours were popular, especially for city dwellers who’d check out the multi-colored tufted chickens and the geese.
Kinderhook Farm once serviced some of the top restaurants and butcher shops in New York City, including Eataly. Now sales are only online. Orders are boxed up and set outside on specified days for contactless customer pick-up. The meat raised on the farm is processed in a small plant, packed in cryovac and sold frozen. But there’s a limit on what they can produce due to the configuration of the property, among other things.
“We are selling more to consumers these days,” said Lee Ranney, a farm manager. “Big surge when people first started noticing shortages and reading about the meat plants, but a steady, more modest uptick lately.”
Another truly low-key version of contactless selling is the tiny, honor-system farm stores tucked about the rural countryside. Drive up a rutted road to the farm store, don mask and gloves and pick up a package or two of ground beef, a steak or some sausage and farm eggs. Note what you bought on the sheet and put cash or check in the till.
Consumers want and need food choices. And it seems clear, if the demand for local, ethically produced meat is there, at least in the Hudson Valley, the product will
follow.
