I’ve been writing this column for more than 20 years.
Because of it, it seems everyone knows me. If I go into any of the grocery or building supply stores, someone will say, “I really like your articles.”
It happened again just yesterday.
An older gentleman said, “You write the articles for the paper, don’t you?” The discussion finally came around to hunting and deer season. His wife said, “Oh, I don’t like venison.”
If you don’t take care of venison properly as soon as you shoot the deer, it will affect the meat. I tried to explain to them that venison is low fat, low cholesterol and about as natural as you can get.
As soon as I shoot a deer and get it down to the house, I get the hide off so it cools the meat out quickly. After letting it hang and age for a few days I take my time when cutting it up to remove all the fat and tissue.
That’s where the wild flavor is found. I like ribeye steaks because of the fat. That’s what gives the meat its wonderful taste.
When I taught school in the Adirondacks years ago, we lived on wild game.
My mother wouldn’t eat venison, and she would ask my father on their way home, “Do you think Rick served us venison?” Dad would tell her that I knew she didn’t like it, but she ate a lot of it while visiting. You just have to know how to prepare it.
Speaking of the Adirondacks: I was the Boy Scout leader for several years. One morning before English class a young fellow came up to me.
“I won’t be at Boy Scouts tonight,” he said.
“Why’s that?” I asked Bobby.
Now Bobby was about 12 years old and in the seventh grade. He responded by saying, “I shot a deer this morning, and we’re having meat for supper.”
I didn’t realize that those people were poor and meat was a real treat for many of them.
Today we are overrun by deer. There’s a meadow near me that has dozens of deer in it every night, and the number is steadily growing.
Drive down the highway and see how many deer-on-car collisions there are. Of course right now the number is up because the breeding season is on and the bucks are out chasing the does.
Anyway — we enjoy venison. When my wife grew up, her mother canned deer. Now I grew up when folks canned fruit and vegetables, but I never had canned pork or venison.
But using the same process as her mother, Pat put up a dozen jars of venison. We stored them on the shelf in the basement.
Every once in a while my wife would ask me what I wanted for dinner. I had no idea, so she would send me down for a jar of meat. It was already cut up and tender. Pat heated it in a sauce pan, fixed some potatoes and veggies and we had a magnificent dinner.
I haven’t gone hunting yet this season. There’s no hurry. I wait until all the hunters are off the hill and then I go and wander the woodlot.
Usually within a day or so I’ll find that fat doe I’m looking for, and we’ll have venison once more — backstraps butterflied and cooked rare for dinner.
In the morning my wife will fry up the heart for breakfast. Don’t turn your nose up to that until you try it.
Remember what that little guy on TV said: “Try it, you’ll like it!”