Customers Shop At Golden Steer For Special Cuts Of Meat

Al Dick understands it when customers come in to his Bellevue butcher shop to gaze at the thick porterhouse steaks, garlic Italian sausages and other meats neatly displayed in a 60-foot-long glass case.

Customers confide they opted to come to Golden Steer Choice Meats because they're "looking for something special."

"We have a lot of people who come to us and say, `Whenever we want something good, we come to see you.' "

Dick, 60, opened Golden Steer in 1968 with Harley Dahl, who passed away nine years ago.

With the help of sons Steve and John and wife Norma, Dick has managed to keep his business alive, despite the large, chain grocery stores which have sprung up all around him. Except for a butcher store in Issaquah, Golden Steer is the only such shop left on the Eastside. Dick has watched three others fold.

"Every time a new store (supermarket) opens up," Steve said, "it takes a piece of the pie . . .it's pushed a lot of little guys out."

Golden Steer's reputation for fresh, choice meats is attributed to three things: an aging process, good cuts and Norma's special sauces.

Hanging on to the meat for two to three weeks before it's cut increases its tenderness and flavor, Dick said. Selling tenderloins with no fat on them and carefully trimming the rest of the meat products, adds to the quality. And to top everything off, Norma has her secret teriyaki and maui sauces.

"We operate almost like a restaurant would," Dick said. "When people come here, they're looking for a good steak, they're looking for a great roast, they're looking for a pork chop that's better than average and that's what we attempt to do."

Beef pepperoni, beef jerky, turkey jerky, venison jerky, Italian sausage, breakfast sausage, stuffed pork chops and marinated Maui ribs are all made in the sawdust-covered preparatory area behind the counter.

Sawdust on the floor is a butcher shop tradition still followed at the Golden Steer. Golden Steer gets its meat from all over the U.S., with a large portion from Eastern Washington.

"The way cattle is handled these days is different," Dick said. "It isn't like you have to go down to the local slaughterhouse every morning and look it over."

The business may have changed dramatically, but the need for a neighborhood butcher shop still exists, at least for Dick's regular customers.

"The very first customer to walk in the door shopped here once a week before she moved to Arizona three years ago," Norma recalled. "And whenever she comes back to visit relatives, she always stops in here."

"There's such a steady core of customers," Steve said. "People who started shopping here in the beginning, their grandkids are starting to come in . . . I think the attraction of a place like this is . . . you get a chance to talk to people and get the kind of service you don't get in a lot of big warehouse-type stores. It's very personal."

And can he see himself at his father's age, still working behind the same glass counter?

"So many butcher shops like this have gone by the wayside, it's tough to look too far into the future . . . you just kind to have to take it one day at a time."