Knowing your meat

Living at the Quinta we had two goats – Hatschi and Hatschine (right male, left female). Hatschi was very quite particular, he even made it into a poem written by Julia. He threatened, ran and played his ego for the ones who did not realise how easy it was to scare him off with a blight blue umbrella or grab him by his horns to just put out of your way when he became stroppy, standing up on his back legs. Their natural pen was taken down when the grounds were freed of weeds and they enjoyed big freedom to stroll around the house and enormous garden – not even an electric fence could keep him in check when it was decided that a pen would be best for all. We ate Hatschi on our last day at the Quinta, the Saturday night. He was killed and butchered in the garden on the Thursday afternoon before.

How is it eating an animal that was regarded as a pet? The owner of the house was set in two minds, but when a professional butcher was arranged to come by to take Hatschi down, there was no return…. It brought up a lot of discussion with the group who lived at the Quinta – most boys could not get over it – they were enjoying their bliss of ignorance and were happily eating crap meat bought from a big chain, weather ham or sausage for breakfast, lunch or dinner. It was kind of Frank to share this experience with us and it will certainly be rememberable. We had Hatchi in 2 different ways – to lessen the goats taste, considering he was 6 years old! – he was marinated in red wine, garlic and onion and in a non alcoholic version made of yogurt – see third pic below – for over 24 hours before being cooked. He was really quite yummy!

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