The high-pitched bleat

I’ve been cheerleading for eating locally since way before ’vore was a common suffix. But even I suspect maybe the trend is cutting a little too close to the bone when a promotional 100-mile dinner starts serving lamb cheeks. Those pointy little heads cannot possibly have enough meat on them to be worth braising in overpriced New York State merlot. Chefs should be moving from head to tail. And given the trend toward macho gavage, wouldn’t “Bear Mountain oysters” be a more enticing treat?