A quick meat and greet before the lights go out
April 14, 2013
Stewart Trezise plies his trade as a mobile butcher. Photo: Meredith O'Shea In his own delicate way, Stewart Trezise is a sheep whisperer. He does everything possible to ensure the beast he is ministering to is kept calm. The day before they meet, the beast is put in a pen, so there's no last-minute chasing it around. When Mr Trezise arrives, he moves about in a relaxed fashion, right up until he takes the lamb in his arms and gently, quickly, cuts its throat. ''Within a split second of both jugulars being cut, once they lose blood supply to the brain, it's lights out … so they don't know what's happening. My main aim is for the animal to be free of stress … it's more humane and also for the sake of the meat,'' he says. ''When an animal gets stressed, the adrenalin rises and the muscles tighten. All of this affects the eating.'' Melbourne's mobile butcher Stewart Trezise, mobile Butcher and his son Martin. Stewart has been in the trade since he was 12. Mr Trezise works in a Hurstbridge butcher shop. He has been in the trade since he was 12, as a clean-up boy after school. At 14 he was offered an apprenticeship and the ways of good meat-eating became his religion. About five years ago, an increasing number of locals asked if he knew of a mobile butcher. ''These were people with hobby farms, with a couple of cattle or pigs or sheep they were raising for meat.'' He called around but couldn't find anyone in the area. ''So I started helping people out. And just through word of mouth, people telling their neighbours, it's grown into something that's a bit out of control.'' Having invested in a mobile coolroom, Mr Trezise now spends his Saturdays gently slaughtering the livestock that quietly inhabit paddocks in the northern suburbs. He's booked up a month in advance. Turning the lamb in the backyard into chops is a two-stage affair. After slaughtering, the carcass is left to hang in the cool...
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