“MEATS FOR PARTICULAR PEOPLE,” the storefront reads.
“Well, I like to think I’m quirky in a good way,” I think to myself. Besides, it was something particular which led me here. I’m hunting wabbits.
More like hunting for rabbits — the kind whose days of fruitful multiplication and cuteful bunnification are already over. I wouldn’t have thought it would take much of any effort to find rabbit meat near my home in western Broward, and I suppose that proved true. I tracked down the usual suspects first, calling the Publix, Fresh Market, and Whole Foods I frequent to check. Of the three, I learned that the Publix and Whole Foods do have rabbit, though only frozen. Frozen rabbit meat may be better than no rabbit meat, but I’m a particular person.
It didn’t take me long to find a reliable place where I could procure fresh rabbit whenever the urge might emerge, and so a simple Google search was how I first found out about Smitty’s. I felt surprised that I’d been oblivious to their establishment near Federal and Commercial this entire time. And it turns out they’re quite the established establishment.
Smitty’s Old Fashioned Butcher Shop has been around since 1962 when it was founded by Fred Schmidt, but the current owner, David Crumbaker, bought the store in 1974 and still works it with his daughter, Chessa. The claim is that they’ve been in business for over forty years, but I reckon it wouldn’t be wrong to say fifty, given that.
It’s a gem of a butcher shop, and the very reason I was oblivious to its existence till recently actually says a lot about what makes it a gem. You see, unlike Publix, Fresh Market, and Whole Foods, Smitty’s doesn’t rely on big green signs or television advertisements to get customers through the door; it counts on the human connection. Smitty’s banks on personal relationships with its regulars and word-of-mouth to make new ones, and that means they get to know you as person and your preferences for meat.
A quick look-over of Smitty’s website got me even more excited: antelope to wild boar, chukar partridge to quail. And apparently a sizeable chunk of their business is provisioning yachts with their superior quality meats and wines, which tells me a lot about the level of quality and service I could expect from them.
Sure, I could have just called, but to have found an actual butcher, a real old fashioned butcher. I’ve never been to one before, in this country anyway. I just had to make the drive to check the place out for myself. And so I drive past the storefront, parking in the lot off to the side of the shop.
The exterior really looks like the 60’s. It’s brick, and generally maroon with a theme that evokes the heyday of the midwest stockyards. Inside, a layer of sawdust covers the green floor — an old butcher’s trick which absorbs the blood and fat of a day’s labor and makes sweeping easier, though it’s mostly cosmetic here. The wall is of wood panels, where steer horns are mounted alongside adorning knick-knacks and tchotchkes. It’s very earthy, woody inside.
The wines are on the left as I come in — a sizable selection for the relatively small and narrow store, and a good selection. There’s $18 wines, $75 wines, $300+ dollar wines. Ahead on the left, there’s a small refrigerated produce section with just what one might need for a steakhouse kind of supper: potatoes, asparagus, butters, herbs, and so on. Further down that side, there’s a refrigerator case which I rifle through, and a few things catch my eye: Kurobuta pork and Kobe beef; alligator fillets; veal brains, sweetbreads, and kidneys; pork cheeks and skin; and caul fat. It’s clearly the miscellaneous section, and now it’s my new favorite part of the shop. Running down the whole right side of the store is the main counter, where the bulk of the butcher shop’s products are on display behind the glass, including cheeses, sausages, and seafood.
Behind the counter, men in white butcher aprons tend to the familiar faces of their patrons and to daily tasks, but I spy one woman among them: it’s Chessa Crumbaker. I bring her up to speed on my wabbit hunt, and not only does she confirm for me that they do have fresh rabbit on hand (she stresses to me that they’re American, not Chinese rabbits), but she informs me that, to guarantee I get what I need when I need it, I have the option to call ahead by a couple days to put in a special request for rabbit, or any other meat for that matter, and they’ll be sure to have it ready for me to pick up. Not only have I found a butcher who’ll be sure to meet all of my fresh rabbit needs as they arise, but one who’ll satisfy special requests for a wide variety of game meats, premium cuts, and offals, fresh.
All in a day’s hunt.
