Back-to-Basics Farming Is the Only Way to Save Beef

Peter Hannan is telling me about his beef. We're standing in one of his revered salt chambers in Moira, County Down, surrounded by mountains of specially imported Himalayan sea salt. It's here that he ages the beef for up to 220 days, long past the 21 (or, more likely, seven) days supermarkets leave their meat to hang.

"We take care over our products and focus on attention to detail," Hannan says. "Our farmers produce premium cattle. We have a process of care: breed, feed, and animal husbandry. All of these are important. We use a native breed: the Shorthorn, which means they need less input. If you're going to eat an animal, you've got to do it justice."

Hannan is clutching a sirloin. It's old. The outside is completely black, the skin a touch contracted, but inside is award-winning beef—as juicy as a celebrity breakup, and as tender as a Great British Bake Off finalist.

Hannan grew up in a farming family in County Kildare, west of Dublin and began selling his own produce at age 11. In 1991, he established a meat merchants in Moira and has since earned a reputation for sustainably produced, premium beef.

And it's some reputation. At the Great Taste Awards in London last month, Hannan's Glenarm Shorthorn beef was named "Supreme Champion" for a second time, making his company the first to win the award twice. On the night, Food NI chief executive Michelle Shirlow said that "Hannan Meats is an outstanding role model for other smaller food and drink companies of just what can be achieved from a commitment to excellence across a business." Observer food critic Jay Rayner put it in slightly simpler terms in a recent review of a restaurant that served him one of Hannan's steaks: "His beef is—and this is a technical term—tear-inducingly bloody lovely."

Back in the salt chamber, I ask Hannan how he does it.

"We're constantly trying to improve the conditions," he explains. "We have six elements: salt, air speed, temperature, lighting, and humidity. The sixth is a secret. These conditions allow us to age our beef. It concentrates the flavor. Different cuts take different times. I'd never purport to know the ideal length for each, that would be stupid—no meat is perfect and we must always strive to improve. But we might age a sirloin for 35 days, a rib for 40."

Hannan's is a niche operation and a relatively small one in the industry. The merchant turns over around £10 million a year and has a select list of suppliers. Fortnum and Mason, London's upmarket grocery store, is one of them, and Hannan tunes certain cuts specifically for its famous hampers. Chef Mark Hix is another buyer. He and Hannan are now good friends, and Hix visits Northern Ireland once a year to explore, fish, and talk meat.

The pair first met at Hix's Oyster & Chop House in London. After finishing his meal, Hannan told the chef: "You've a lovely restaurant, but your steaks aren't very good."

Luckily, Hix doesn't bear a grudge. When I speak to him over the phone after my trip to Moira, he tells me: "Hannan combines traditional farming with new techniques. It's a coveted method. It's not just the steaks, but all the meats. He takes so much care over what he sells, and you can taste that in what he delivers. It's beautiful stuff."

But can it last?

Hannan is forthright when I bring up the unsustainable levels at which the world consumes beef, and in fact, all meat. I ask him as a purveyor where we go from here. Is there a future in steak frites, beef pie, and slow-roasted brisket?

"It's quite clear that we should eat less, but to a higher standard," he says. "We owe it to the animal—from field to plate. We must use the whole cow and slaughter it humanely. Problems start when greed sets in. That's the issue, isn't it? When greed takes control, things die. Not properly utilizing something we're killing to eat is a total disgrace."

The way Hannan sees it, people will always eat what's available. When meat is on the shelves, we tend to buy it. Veganism may be becoming more popular in some circles but global intake of meat is on the rise.

"All this meat is produced, whatever it is, people will buy it," Hannan adds. "I'm not sure people really care—people are most interested in their own lifetimes, aren't they. If people can't demonstrably see something, it's hard to change things."

The methodology behind Hannan's beef may be complex but the foundations are simple: back-to-basics agriculture and using the whole animal. For him, this is the future of beef.

I eat one of Hannan's steaks during dinner at a nearby guesthouse. The outer layer has a deep, charred, near-caramel flavor, while the inside is gamey and almost grassy. All you need is a pinch of salt and a grind of pepper, and you're at peak beef.

I don't know if this is the future of food, but my god, I hope it is.

Every day this week, MUNCHIES is exploring the future of food on planet Earth, from lab-grown meat and biohacking to GMOs and the precarious state of our oceans. Find out more here.