A few Novembers ago, during Thanksgiving week, I went to my local butcher shop. As I waited in a nearly block-long line, I watched customer after customer leave with a paper bag straining under the weight of a massive farm-fresh turkey. The man in front of me paid $82 for his turkey; the woman in front of him paid $112.
When I was finally face-to-face with The Butcher — a caricature of a man with a meat cleaver tattoo and a Bob Belcher mustache — I asked if he had any necks for purchase.
