Perfectionism, lastwordism and exactism being a part of most every Chef’s personality, I am certainly no exception. I wanted to do an all Locally grown, Sustainable, Seasonal Thanksgiving to honor the farmers and growers that I work with in Paonia. Paonia is a two hour drive from downtown Aspen and several million miles away in terms of commerce, country folk, opinions and lifestyles. I really like living here! It is my everything at the moment, sorry Babe…

I invited 30 of my favorite farmers to dinner and thank Goodness, only 23 could make it. My poor fellow was having a conniption thinking about all those muddy boot farmers and their little rascals moving into our cute, little Vic he has been remodeling for the last few years. I know my fellow well, so I abstained from telling him until that final week. A woman’s got to have some peace in her life. After a quick childproofing and re-felting of the wooden chair legs and more than a few attempted, sabotaging efforts he settled down to an occasional Well, what if? and just one big sigh that lasted the duration of the Holiday.

I have long been a chef and in most recent years a very passionate, local foods aficionado of a chef. I have studied many cuisines and for 5 or 6 years of my cooking life I was even a stalwart, slightly self-righteous Vegetarian chef, though that has been in my past for a few years now. So, imagine my surprise than, when local sheep growers, Oogie and Ken McGuire of Desert Weyr Black Welsh Mountain Sheep fame offered to give me a lamb at a very reasonable price for my big dinner, providing I slaughter it myself. Imagine my surprise indeed, when out of my own mouth came “ Oh sure, no problem, How about two of them?” Yes, imagine my surprise. What is it with my mouth? I can’t even take a hook out of a fish, let alone run my knife along the inside of a still warm, bloody carcass.

But here’s the deal, I want to be sustainable. I want to know where my food comes from, who grows it and how to make use of all of its edible and inedible parts. I have long been one of those chefs cooking out of the back of the Nobel Sysco truck and these last few years in the valley I have been trying hard to better be “a part of” the food I eat and sell. I visit my farmers and often spend afternoons with them talking and weeding. I help them harvest when they are short on labor, which is just about always, and I can be coerced into attacking squash bugs at night (they are easier to catch at night) and last but not least I brag about the farmers to anyone who will listen. That’s been my self-designated part of Sustainability in these two neighboring Valleys. I was soon to find out that there is a little more to sheep slaughtering than pulling weeds.

In inimitable Dava fashion whenever there is something I am intrepid about experiencing I open up my pie-hole and commit myself (and whoever is standing next to me, usually). The McGuire’s needed to sell lambs as they didn’t, and still don’t, have enough hay to over winter them. The rains came this fall when they were in the middle of haying and their fresh mowed hay sat in the fields rotting during the ill-timed five-day torrent.  I couldn’t not buy those animals. I like the farmers too much to have good judgment. Also, I have eaten the McGuire’s Black Welsh Mountain sheep and I know how truly good it tastes. It is very lean, deep red in color, mild and flavorful. I was drooling thinking about my different spice rubs and herb marinades slathered on hunks of meat in my neighbors big, old bar-b-queue grill, and I so wanted to impress the farmers with something other than Turkey. Shoot, I needed some help, the killing kind of help…