Lots of Chickens in the News! On one hand, the public is clamoring for more cheap chicken, which means more birds raised in crowded confinement. The following story is from
ROASTED, fried or served with noodles, chicken is on its way to becoming the
world’s favourite meat. Diners currently chomp through more pork—some 114m
tonnes a year compared with 106m tonnes for poultry. But chicken consumption is
growing faster—by 2.5% a year compared with 1.5% for pig meat—and is on track
to overtake pork before 2020. And much more chicken is traded across borders:
some 13.3m tonnes a year compared with 8.6m tonnes of beef and 7.2m tonnes of
pork, according to the UN’s Food and Agriculture Organisation. Chicken is on a
roll.
The growing taste for fowl is a result of increasing prosperity in emerging
markets, meaning that people can afford to put more meat on the table. Chicken
tops the pecking order as the most affordable. It takes far less feed to
produce a kilo of chicken than the equivalent amount of pork or beef. And
religious strictures that bar beef and pork from cooking pots around the world
do not apply to poultry.
The taste for chicken will boost production to 128m tonnes a year by 2020,
according to Rabobank, a Dutch bank. The proportion hitting global markets will
grow too, from around 14% to 17% of total output. The main impediments to
faster cross-border growth are consumers’ preferences for fresh chicken and
government policies to protect domestic agriculture, but rising food prices
should stoke the appetite for cheaper, imported meat.
The business of raising chicken is generally concentrated in countries where
grain is plentiful. Canny chicken farmers have also focused on places like
Brazil where poor infrastructure makes it harder for grain producers to get
their goods to market and to fetch global prices. That suppresses feed prices,
which make up 50-70% of total costs. Production costs in America and Brazil,
the world’s biggest producers, which between them provide two-thirds of chicken
exports, are 30% below those in Europe and China, according to Nan-Dirk Mulder
of Rabobank.
Trading chicken is far more complicated than merely plucking, freezing and
dispatching the birds. Chickens don’t get sold whole; exporters have to
optimise the “break-up value” of their fowl. The Western palate much prefers
white breast meat. Asian consumers prize the more flavoursome brown meat from
the thigh and leg. White meat may fetch four times more than brown in the West
but costs much the same in China. Europe, a net exporter of chicken, sends legs
and feet to Asia but imports white meat.
Wings, irritatingly limited by evolution to two per bird, are in short
supply worldwide and prices are high. McDonald’s is rumoured to have been
stockpiling them in preparation for the roll-out, which began this week, of its
“Mighty Wings” range in America. But the dynamics of the global market is good
news for rich-world consumers. The growth in Asian demand for chicken should
mean a glut of white meat and lower prices in years to come.
But the NY Times is looking at a special program to raise heritage breed chickens on more interesting food for a longer time to produce better flavor for high-end chefs. Although the breeds involved are not mentioned, they must have some Buff Brahma influence. The article calls them Green Circle and refers to "a heritage-breed chicken (in this case,
one common to Gascony, the region of southwestern France" and "a heritage crossbreed." This could be the beginning of better understanding of the difference between heritage chickens raised on pasture and industrial chickens.
EPHRATA,
Pa. — They may be the most pampered chickens on the planet.
The
chickens live on property owned by Leon Zimmerman, an Amish farmer and father
of 12.
On
certain days, a truck pulls up alongside their quiet, spacious coop on an Amish
farm here and delivers a feast that seems tailored to a flock of two-legged
aristocrats. Before long, the rust-colored birds are pecking away at vegetable
peelings and day-old bread from some of Manhattan’s most elegant restaurants,
like
Per Se ,
Daniel ,
Gramercy Tavern ,
the Modern and
David Burke Townhouse .
It
is all part of an experiment that is bringing together elite chefs,
preindustrial farming practices and a breed of French poultry that is rarely
found in the United States. The goal: to see whether American restaurants can
turn back the culinary clock and rediscover “what a chicken should taste like,”
said Ariane Daguin, the pioneering businesswoman who is behind the idea.
Can
scraps from acclaimed restaurants, where the best ingredients are used, create
the table-to-farm-to-table chicken of the future — and the past?
New
York diners will get to nibble on the results this week. After having been
fattened up in Pennsylvania, about 220 of what the
D’Artagnan company is calling Green Circle
chickens will start showing up (usually roasted) on dinner plates at the same
restaurants that helped feed them. For high-end chefs, who engage in a
perpetual contest to track down the purest and most rarefied ingredients, it is
a tantalizing prospect.
“When
I tasted it, I was like, ‘Whoa,’ ” said
Jean-Georges Vongerichten , who plans to start
incorporating the chickens into his ever-evolving menus. Witnesses say that
after his first bite, Mr. Vongerichten was on the verge of tears;
Daniel Humm , the chef at Eleven Madison Park,
consumed an entire chicken in one sitting.
Still,
a few raised eyebrows are to be expected. The image of chickens gorging on
four-star ingredients can seem a rather operatic manifestation of today’s
obsessions over food.
“I
do think in some ways it’s a wonderful reaction to corporate poultry and
corporate farming in general,” said Matthew Mills, a creator of
“Fodder,” a satirical online show from the
Cooking Channel. “But at the same time, it swings so far to the other side that
it’s almost an Onion headline.” He cited a well-known episode of “Portlandia,”
in which two diners aggressively interrogate a waiter about the provenance of a
chicken.
Clark
Wolf, a prominent restaurant consultant, agreed. “On one side, it sounds kind
of wonderful and magical, and on the other side it sounds like the biggest
stunt I’ve ever heard,” he said. “I mean, you know — let them eat zucchini?”
Ms.
Daguin, the French-born founder and chief executive of D’Artagnan, a company
that has played a major role in bringing ingredients like foie gras, game birds
and Berkshire pork into the broader American marketplace, said that it was not a
stunt, but part of a continuing mission to change the world by changing its
palates.
Ms.
Daguin, 55, recalled moving to Greenwich, Conn., from France in 1977 to work as
an au pair and getting her first bite of mass-produced American chicken. “It
was a crime,” she said.
For
Ms. Daguin (as for Gallic chefs like Mr. Vongerichten and
Daniel Boulud ), a distaste for chicken that was
“mushy and full of water,” as she put it, was intensified by nostalgic memories
of chickens back home that wandered around the yard nibbling on carrot tops,
onion skins and old baguettes — and ended up tasting rich and meaty, with an
almost chewy texture.
What
would happen, she wondered, if you took a heritage-breed chicken (in this case,
one common to Gascony, the region of southwestern France where she grew up) and
fed it scraps from fine restaurants?
For
chefs like
Michael Anthony at Gramercy Tavern, there is a
philosophical appeal in finding uses for those scraps — and in supporting a
fresh but old-school alternative to factory farming. “We know the horror of the
caged birds,” Mr. Anthony said.
Ultimately,
it comes down to taste. In restaurant circles, a chicken that tastes like
chicken is something of a holy grail. About half a dozen chefs have signed up
so far, though the roster of restaurants is still in flux.
When
Ms. Daguin approached Mr. Boulud with her proposal, he grasped it instantly,
having grown up with similarly pastoral experiences. “For me it was not a
foreign idea,” he said. (He contributed scraps from his restaurants as the food
supply for a test run.)
Of
course, these chickens are not dining on stale loaves from grandmother’s
breadbox. On a recent afternoon at the farm, where a few hundred creatures
inhabit a peaceful, 15,000-square-foot coop that would dwarf the size of most
New York apartments, they clucked and ambled around pans of bread soaked in
fresh milk, and white buckets full of leafy trimmings that would make a
tremendous tossed salad.
“Some
of this is nicer stuff than I have to eat when I get home,” said Mike Charles,
a local poultry expert involved in the project.
The
birds live on property owned by Leon Zimmerman, an Amish farmer and father of
12 who passed through New York City just once. “We’re not used to quite that
much traffic,” he said. He has been raising chickens for decades, but never
quite this way.
“We
explained the concept,” Ms. Daguin said, “but for him it’s like: ‘What? You’re
driving two and a half hours to give me vegetable scraps? I have them right
here.’ ”
D’Artagnan
poured more than $250,000 into research and start-up costs. Using the expensive
hatchlings of a heritage crossbreed, and feeding them for longer than usual,
has more than doubled the normal cost of raising chickens.
Mr.
Anthony plans to serve a dish with breast and thigh meat from the chicken, as
well as sausage fashioned from it, as a $22 lunch item at Gramercy Tavern. At
some spots, the chicken will simply be incorporated into existing multicourse
menus.
In
spite of the expense, Ms. Daguin intends to take the experiment a step further,
creating separate pens and roaming yards for the chickens that belong to each
restaurant group. The Per Se chickens will eat only Per Se peelings and bread;
the diet of the Gramercy Tavern chickens will come only from Gramercy Tavern.
The
theory, anyway, is that each cluster of birds will have its own taste. (To get
enough calories and protein, the chickens also feed on pellets made from corn
and soybeans.)
“It’s
kind of like a weird competition,” the chef David Burke said. “It’s like, ‘My
chicken eats better than yours.’ At least that’s how I’m looking at it. I’m
going to spoil my chicken like a pet.”
He
spoke of trying to influence the flavor of the meat by throwing in mushrooms,
celery root, pumpkin seeds, pretzel bread and maybe figs for sweetness.
“Listen, if the chickens ate ginger and lemon, you would have a gingery, lemony
chicken, I think,” Mr. Burke said. “You are what you eat.” (Alas, advance word
has it that they avoid citrus.) Mr. Boulud wants to try garlic.
No
matter what they eat, all these one-percenters of the poultry realm will meet
the same fate. After 60 days, almost double the life span of a regular
commercial bird, they’ll be trucked off to be slaughtered and air-chilled.
If
the flavor of the birds and the spirit of the idea catch on with consumers, Ms.
Daguin may add more Amish farms to the project. She sees it as a growth
opportunity for her company, as well as an experiment in consciousness-raising
that could influence cooks and diners around the country.
For
chefs, the chicken is an experiment in creating an echo chamber of flavor. Or
as Mr. Burke mused, “Maybe we’ll poach it in the same peelings that it ate.”
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