Butcher

There is something all too magical and calming about watching a butcher work. The way the knife glides through muscle tissue, releasing the large fatty strands away from the tender meat that lies underneath.

The way a leg gets sectioned in order to ensure that when roasted correctly, the meat will surely slip seamlessly off the bone. Watching the blood covered apron flow through the kitchen. Sectioning this, cutting that. Hanging what was once a wallowing mud covered animal on a giant hook.

Hanging meat to expose it to oxidation and festering airborne particles in a dark, and dimly lit room to allow it to age for days, weeks even.

Shoving a ground up mix of meat into the lining of another animal's intestine lining. The beauty, and magic is why we do it. Food is a powerful thing.