My family - counting the grandparents, parents, me - never declared ourselves free-range, organic, green, or anything else of that sort. We wanted to eat well and on a budget. The taste of food, a virtue of its freshness and the care in its production, was the priority - after affordability. We have long gone to Eichner's for produce, poultry, and dozens (pun!) of other things. The Eichners were selling the best stuff around decades before the buzzwords and hashtags.
Eichner's Farm isn't one in the farmy ads. Most farms aren't. Cows don't dance under rainbows sprouting from the hillsides. Chickens don't whistle while they work on the egg laying line. Pigs don't pat you on the back and brag about their bacon being nitrate free. That sort of bizarro anthropomorphism and idyllic image is made by executive intent and marketers to assuage a certain customer base and to compel it to pay a premium. Pssst: It ain't worth it.
I've never tasted a better bird or eggs than in the ones we've bought at Eichner's.
Likely neither will you.
You'll see a chicken coop on the property. If you've never seen your dinner when it's alive, this may feel overwhelming. It's OK. As it's been said of sausage, people like the taste but don't want to see how it's made. It's OK. Read the fine print under "cage free" on the egg cartons at Whole Foods. The birds that laid those eggs weren't as lucky as the ones here.
Farms are dirty. They're full of dirt, lots of dirt. Without dirt, nothing grows. That's the nature of nature. Farmers work in that dirt, they get dirty. They raise and slaughter the animals, sparing us both the inconvenience and the guilt we may feel over it. Eichner's does these and all the farm things incredibly well.
I can't help but laugh a little when I see Eichner's listed as a supplier to the American (New) category of restaurants around Pittsburgh. Who knew Grandma was so on-trend for the 2010s back in 1980s? The restaurant prices are the punchline, since I've been eating this stuff on the cheap (as you could too, by shopping at the source) my entire life. My grandfather also gets a bit of a laugh, mixed with a little tension in his chest. But good for Eichner's, they deserve every penny.
My only complaint is the Brooklynification of the shelves. Pittsburgh, you can supply your own pickles. I know this. I know there are folks with brine on the brain back home. Get to canning! I don't want to see McClure's here. We have enough of this in Brooklyn already.
Now about my grandfather, he's closing in on 96. He could still kick my ass if he wanted to. He's been eating eggs, bacon, and vegetables from Eichner's so long as I've been alive. I'm 33. I've been going to Eichner's since long as I can recollect. The Eichner brothers, if either is working the store, ask about my mother and my grandparents every time I drop by to buy peanut brittle, eggs, or a bird to haul back to Brooklyn.
This review is no doubt biased by all the family history, but you know, you could see as the perspective of 33 years of patronage. I'll tell you that if anything, Eicher's is consistent.