I come from a family of hunters. My whole life it was common in the fall and winter for my father to be gone early in the morning. Out in the woods or in a field or on the river hunting something. Or fishing. I come from a family of fishermen. I grew up dragging deer out of the woods and helping my brother butcher animals. We ate venison and squirrel and duck and goose and wild turkey. Whatever my father brought home. He shot a moose in the Yukon and we ate off of it for half the year. When I said I wanted to join them in my early twenties, my brother bought me a bow for my birthday. I had to field dress all the deer we got that year to practice. And we practiced shooting constantly. We went to the shooting range together to sight in our muzzle loader. I was going to be taught to hunt the right way. And I was going to learn to butcher a deer by myself. My survival skills are pretty good. Plus I like venison.
It is a family tradition to go hunting on Thanksgiving. Normally my brother posts up in the woods (or in a tree stand) and Dad, my nephew Gavin, my nephew Trenton, and I drive deer. And if Cliff shoots something, we work together to track and drag the deer together. This year my new husband got to join the crew. A week after our hunt, I got a call from my father, that my boss of nephew Trenton, had decided he wanted a hunt of his own. Cliff can have Thanksgiving, but Christmas would be his. For Christmas he made us all necklace of leather and old antlers to wear. And on December 26th we headed out in the woods together. My dad settled in with Trenton, ready to guide him if a deer came his way. I would love for their to be a fairy-tale ending, but the truth is that we walked away empty-handed. The does were all running to fast and the only deer that was close enough for him was a nice 8-10 point buck. This particular week, however, you are allowed to only shoot does. The main thing, though, is that we had fun. We had a little shooting contest afterwards and the whole morning was just pleasant.
Continue reading “Duck Breast with a Root Hash”
A few weeks ago I shared a lovely little story about hunting with my men and how eating food that you have a connection and experience with, seems to just taste and feel better going down. Well today I have some more of that beautiful venison to share with you.
Many hunters go through stages. Eventually you get to this level (insert my brother), where you hunt for the trophy buck. Whereas, at my level and humble beginnings, I am merely trying to kill an animal and sustain dinner for the night. The thing about hunting older, bigger bucks is they may not yield as tender of meat as their younger, smaller counterparts. The lovely 10-pointer Cliff got on Thanksgiving was gorgeous, but slightly tougher eating than any other deer we got this season.
I am saying all this, because I have found with this particular deer, I enjoy cutting it up into little cubes and tossing it in the skillet. Plus, I also have it planned out in my head (and meat unthawing in the sink) that I’m going to make some of it into deer burgers. Since I happened to have a rutabaga on hand, I opted for pairing it with my venison tonight, for an impromptu, yet very tasty meal.
Cubed Venison with Shaved Rutabaga Continue reading “Shaved Rutabaga with Venison”
I have been raised by a family of storytellers. I come from a line of hunters and fishermen. I think storytelling comes with the territory. With every hunt or catch there is always a tale (often an elaborate, embellished tale).
In most situations I would consider myself a very non-traditional, eclectic individual. When it comes to family, however, I am all about tradition, and creating new traditions. Thanksgiving has always been a morning for hunting in our family. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been woken up to drag deer out of the woods (happy holiday to me, and sometimes happy birthday as well). But this year I discovered that if ever you need to be Continue reading “Venison Stir Fry”
Just looking at this first picture brings to mind a rush of gratitude. Gratitude for this rad family I’ve been raised with. Gratitude for my outdoor lust, the insatiable craving I have to be outside in the fresh air, surrounded by blue skies and towering green trees. All is right in my world when I am in the woods. Gratitude for my constant striving to capture the world and its beauty. My grandpa is a phenomenal photographer, who took these photos. Gratitude for potential. The potential that calm waters brings. The potential a crisp autumn morning in a tree stand brings. The potential adventure waiting to unravel and unfold, creating a dynamic/mindblowing story. The potential of the bond. Hunting and fishing with my dad, brother, grandpa, great-uncles, cousins, nephews, and my dad’s childhood friends is something that connects us. It brings us together. A unique experience, bonding us together. I go back to my interview with dad about fishing. How he reflected on the stages of fishing. First you fish with your dad. Then you fish with your friends. Then you go back to fishing with your dad. Thus is the circle of life. Continue reading “Fishing Adventures with the Fam”
My post yesterday on hunting was winded- I admit it. So today I am going to try and keep it simple and sweet. To me goose is a trickier meat. Not necessarily a crowd pleaser. It is darker meat. It can be a little gamier. The way I found to make it which hooks more people is jerky. Testament: my mom doesn’t like goose, but after making jerky (per my inspiration) she is in love. She ate it in a day and is on round #2. Plus making jerky I think is pretty easy. This recipe is one I like because I’m that savory, sweet girl. I like to enjoy the best of both worlds when it comes to flavor.
Hot and Sweet Goose Jerky