210: From Dairy to Dinner

Long synopsis

On an organic dairy farm in the English countryside, the herd is up before the light. Jade, the herdswoman, brings them in for milking with her dog Mac riding beside her in the cab. Among them, retired to grass, is 210: a black-and-white Holstein Friesian with a star on her forehead and her number painted on her hip. In eleven years she has given six calves and 38,663 litres of milk.

Most cows like her end up as what the trade calls manufacturing beef: mince, burgers and ready meals. Over a drink in the pub, the filmmaker asked her farmer, Jon, what would happen if they did it differently: let one old cow see out her retirement in the field, then treat her as well in death as she was treated in life. The best butchery they could find. A curer to turn her into bresaola and salami. A chef to cook her. A table of the people who knew her.

Then came lockdown. The restaurants closed, and 210 got a stay of execution.

What follows is a story told across the seasons, from the calving pens and the milking parlour to the butcher’s block, the curing room and a long lunch. Nobody involved had done it before. The butchers had never broken down a dairy cow; the farmer had never eaten one of his own. There are jokes, arguments, craft and a good deal of wine. There is also the matter of what everyone is there to do.

210 is neither a campaign against meat nor an advert for it. It looks at all of it, the care, the craft and the discomfort, and leaves the verdict to you.