Eating Jerome

David and I got the first pork delivery from our farmer a couple of weeks ago, and have so far eaten some chops and a ham steak. They were, of course, fantastic. I'm still not quite sure what to do with the bacon and sausage, just because I'm not at all familiar with cooking with them, but I have no doubt that we will figure it out. All of the cuts are conveniently packaged separately, so we can defrost meat for one meal at a time. Each package is labeled with the type of cut, the name of the farm, the name of the butcher shop, and "Jerome". My first guess was that Jerome was the pig's name, but David was doubtful that he would keep the same name from farm to table. On about my fourth examination of this label I noticed the address of the butcher, which is located in Jerome, MI. When I saw the farmer again on Saturday, I told him that we had been enjoying the pork and about how I thought it had been from a pig named Jerome. He told me that they had learned long ago not to name their animals, which makes sense if you will be both raising them and eating them. Maybe it's because I'm not that sentimental about animals, or maybe it's because I didn't know him as an adorable little piglet, but I kind of like the idea of eating Jerome.