Well, that was interesting. To start with my legs are covered in sores from embedded cactus needles and I am still finding miniature ticks on various parts of my body.
I climbed into my blind at 6:30 on Saturday morning and had to wait 40 minutes until there was enough light to see what was around me. I heard lots of wildlife, mainly deer, coyote and birdsong. It was obvious that I am a complete rookie at hunting as every deer that came within 30 yards of me figured out I was there, gave a big stomp and a snort and hightailed it out of there. The coyotes were howling like mad. Every time the coyote started their song I could hear lots of nervous wildlife skittering about behind my blind.
After two hours in my blind I finally saw a feral hog. My heart was pumping hard and my hands were shaking a little as I loaded a shell into my 30-30. Much to my surprise I was able to hold my gun pretty steady as I took aim. I watched the hog through the peep sight for about a minute until he presented himself in a manner that would give a good kill shot. He looked like a pretty nice size; I was guessing about 150 lbs. I was able to gently squeeze the trigger and my hog dropped in his tracks. His legs kicked for about a minute and then stopped. It was a good clean kill with minimal suffering. I know without a doubt that there was less suffering through this death than if he had been torn to shreds by the packs of coyotes which were roaming the area.
When I climbed out of the blind and examined my hog up close I was amazed at how small he was. The animal that had appeared to be 150 lbs while in my sights was now revealed to weigh 50-60 lbs. The hunter I was with just laughed and said the hunting term for that is “ground shrinkage”. The positive note is that apparently this is the perfect size for eating. They have not gotten too tough and also have not developed a strong pig musk smell. I checked the wound and confirmed I had shot him exactly where I had aimed, a clean shot to the heart.
I find it very interesting that from the moment I squeezed the trigger this animal changed in my mind from being “a hog” into being “my hog”.
We cleaned the hog by first skinning him, removing the backstraps and then removing the front and hind quarters. We did not open the abdominal cavity as these hogs are way too lean to have much meat on their ribs. While we were skinning the hog I was amazed at the number of ticks that had made a home on this fellow….possibly a hundred, maybe more?
My emotions were pure excitement. I had expected to feel a sense of sorrow/guilt/loss by taking the life of this animal. Nope, pure adrenaline. I am an alpha male…me kill meat! I would do it again in a heartbeat with zero remorse as I squeeze the trigger.
We put the meat on ice and I was instructed to keep it on ice for at least three days. The three days are up today and tonight I will eat the only pig I have ever killed.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
Pig Hunt!
It’s time to go kill a pig! I’m heading to south Texas this weekend for my first feral hog hunt. The range of emotions is pretty broad; excited, apprehensive, nervous. I’ve never killed anything larger than a fish and I know that I will have mixed emotions if I pull the trigger on a pig.
Many folks would question if what I’m doing qualifies as hunting. I will be in a ground blind about 30 yards from a corn feeder. The landowner is an avid deer hunter and the pigs have been coming in and scaring the deer. This trip is to “put the hurt on the pig population” so the deer hunting will be better for him later this year. The combination of being that close and the fact that the pigs will be coming in to eat the feed corn makes it feel like I will be shooting fish in a barrel. That being said, I’ve never hunted before so I really do not know what the hell I am talking about.
I am nervous about the terrain. The guidance I have been given is to always be wearing leather gloves because everything I touch down there will hurt me. Between thorns from mesquite trees, cactus barbs and a very healthy rattlesnake population it really is best to be very careful where you sit and what you pick up.
I will be shooting my grandfather’s Model 94 Winchester 30-30. I am not an expert with it by any means but after several trips to the range I am very comfortable. I have no worries about being able to make a clean kill at this short distance. I’ll probably be shaking like a leaf and will miss by twenty feet!
“Here piggy, piggy, piggy! Here piggy, piggy, piggy!”
Many folks would question if what I’m doing qualifies as hunting. I will be in a ground blind about 30 yards from a corn feeder. The landowner is an avid deer hunter and the pigs have been coming in and scaring the deer. This trip is to “put the hurt on the pig population” so the deer hunting will be better for him later this year. The combination of being that close and the fact that the pigs will be coming in to eat the feed corn makes it feel like I will be shooting fish in a barrel. That being said, I’ve never hunted before so I really do not know what the hell I am talking about.
I am nervous about the terrain. The guidance I have been given is to always be wearing leather gloves because everything I touch down there will hurt me. Between thorns from mesquite trees, cactus barbs and a very healthy rattlesnake population it really is best to be very careful where you sit and what you pick up.
I will be shooting my grandfather’s Model 94 Winchester 30-30. I am not an expert with it by any means but after several trips to the range I am very comfortable. I have no worries about being able to make a clean kill at this short distance. I’ll probably be shaking like a leaf and will miss by twenty feet!
“Here piggy, piggy, piggy! Here piggy, piggy, piggy!”
Friday, October 2, 2009
Dinner with Mario
I have been stalking Bill Buford for a year (Hi, Bill!). While sifting through his garbage last week I came across the final chapter of his 2006 book, Heat, which, for some reason, was rejected by the publisher. I have included the work below. I assume this is okay since I didn’t find a copyright notice anywhere in the margins. Keep up the great work, Bill. See you soon!
It has been three months since Mario joined me for dinner and witnessed the completion of my metamorphosis from student to chef. I was grateful for all that Mario had shared and was determined to make that evening one he would remember for the rest of his life.
After we had eaten I realized that Mario had never actually seen me practice the skills I had developed under the tutelage of Dario and The Maestro. This, I realized, would make the circle complete. I would put on a demonstration for Mario to allow him to see that these hands of mine, as tiny as they were, were now masters of butchery and the proper preparation of meat.
And thus with a frantic glee I proudly showed Mario the knife and steel which had been given to me by The Maestro, sharpened my blade and dispatched him with a single cut. Yes, it was a spectacular mess. The way Mario flailed and thrashed about was a reflection of his zest for life. Even in his final moments, Mario, the ultimate showman, was still grasping for a little bit more life.
Once Mario had been cleaned and broken into sections it became obvious that I was dealing with a glorious piece of meat. The quality of the meat is governed by the quality of the fat and Mario would have graded out as Prime.
The belly was spectacular, I had never seen its equal. Slicing open that belly was like unwrapping a Christmas gift; the one in the biggest box and prettiest wrapper that tormented you as it lay under the tree. You just knew that there is something wonderful inside and are finally able to tear it open after long restraint. As soon as I saw the quality of the fat on the belly I sliced off a portion and ate it raw; still warm and meltingly tender. Meat will reflect the diet of the beast and it was clear that Mario ate well; the nuttiness of the Parmesan Reggiano, the earthiness of the pastas, the saltiness of the olives, the bold fruit of the wine. I wanted Mario to experience the deliciousness of the Lardo de Mario so I quickly spread some on a slice of rustic bread and placed it into his gaping mouth.
I tried to serve Mario in ways I believe he would have served himself. I split the belly into two portions; one was simply cured with salt, black pepper and a touch of paprika while the other made for a delightful confit. The ribs were seared and braised just like at Babbo and the shanks were used for osso bucco. The chops were brined, grilled and served with seasonal vegetables while some of the tougher cuts were ground and added to a bright ragu. Bones were roasted for stock while the skin was fried and crumbled over salads.
The hands and feet were simmered with the head until they simply fell apart (it’s done when the jawbone detaches). The meat was picked and added back to the filtered aromatic broth. The mix was simmered until thickened, then poured into Mario’s cleaned stomach and left to slowly gel in the cooler. Mario would have appreciated the playfulness. He had thought about what to put into his stomach for so long that now his head is in his stomach! This is just the sort of humor Mario loved to build into his menus.
My biggest dilemma was what to do with all of the little bits and pieces of Mario left over from trimming. Mario insisted that a chef never wasted anything and instead would find ways to dress up any scraps and sell them. The thought of wasting any piece of Mario and therefore breaking one of his cardinal rules was clearly not an option. This dilemma was solved in one of those moments of brilliance, of simple clarity, that identify a true chef.
My moment of clarity came when I saw Mario’s manhood. It was incredible in proportion and very, well…manly. No wonder Mario walked with a funny gait; the poor man must have been horribly uncomfortable. “Of course”, I thought, “I have meat trimmings, beautiful fat and a perfect casing. I can make salami!”
Using short, quick strokes of my knife I slowly peeled the skin away from the organ. My newly procured casing was thoroughly salted and then pricked in multiple locations to ensure the salami could properly dry. I put the trimmings through the grinder and seasoned liberally but gently with salt, black pepper and a crisp chardonnay. For a textural contrast the fat was cut into a fine dice before mixing with the ground meat. The salami was then stuffed and allowed to ferment and dry in a cool, humid spot in my basement. When the salami is done I will send it to Mario’s father. I am sure he will appreciate the craftsmanship and will enjoy getting to spend some time with his son.
What could have been more perfect? The salami was very utilitarian, very Italian and very, very Mario. Couldn’t you just see it now? Mario running around Babbo, slices in hand, yelling, “You’ve got to try this!” Of course he wouldn’t tell anybody what it was, not until they confessed that they loved it and wanted more. Oh that Mario, he was just so Mario!
After that evening there could be no doubt, I was now a chef. I am very thankful for all that Mario so graciously provided and will forever be in his debt. No matter where I go I will always carry a piece of Mario with me.
Seriously, I made a little wallet.
It has been three months since Mario joined me for dinner and witnessed the completion of my metamorphosis from student to chef. I was grateful for all that Mario had shared and was determined to make that evening one he would remember for the rest of his life.
After we had eaten I realized that Mario had never actually seen me practice the skills I had developed under the tutelage of Dario and The Maestro. This, I realized, would make the circle complete. I would put on a demonstration for Mario to allow him to see that these hands of mine, as tiny as they were, were now masters of butchery and the proper preparation of meat.
And thus with a frantic glee I proudly showed Mario the knife and steel which had been given to me by The Maestro, sharpened my blade and dispatched him with a single cut. Yes, it was a spectacular mess. The way Mario flailed and thrashed about was a reflection of his zest for life. Even in his final moments, Mario, the ultimate showman, was still grasping for a little bit more life.
Once Mario had been cleaned and broken into sections it became obvious that I was dealing with a glorious piece of meat. The quality of the meat is governed by the quality of the fat and Mario would have graded out as Prime.
The belly was spectacular, I had never seen its equal. Slicing open that belly was like unwrapping a Christmas gift; the one in the biggest box and prettiest wrapper that tormented you as it lay under the tree. You just knew that there is something wonderful inside and are finally able to tear it open after long restraint. As soon as I saw the quality of the fat on the belly I sliced off a portion and ate it raw; still warm and meltingly tender. Meat will reflect the diet of the beast and it was clear that Mario ate well; the nuttiness of the Parmesan Reggiano, the earthiness of the pastas, the saltiness of the olives, the bold fruit of the wine. I wanted Mario to experience the deliciousness of the Lardo de Mario so I quickly spread some on a slice of rustic bread and placed it into his gaping mouth.
I tried to serve Mario in ways I believe he would have served himself. I split the belly into two portions; one was simply cured with salt, black pepper and a touch of paprika while the other made for a delightful confit. The ribs were seared and braised just like at Babbo and the shanks were used for osso bucco. The chops were brined, grilled and served with seasonal vegetables while some of the tougher cuts were ground and added to a bright ragu. Bones were roasted for stock while the skin was fried and crumbled over salads.
The hands and feet were simmered with the head until they simply fell apart (it’s done when the jawbone detaches). The meat was picked and added back to the filtered aromatic broth. The mix was simmered until thickened, then poured into Mario’s cleaned stomach and left to slowly gel in the cooler. Mario would have appreciated the playfulness. He had thought about what to put into his stomach for so long that now his head is in his stomach! This is just the sort of humor Mario loved to build into his menus.
My biggest dilemma was what to do with all of the little bits and pieces of Mario left over from trimming. Mario insisted that a chef never wasted anything and instead would find ways to dress up any scraps and sell them. The thought of wasting any piece of Mario and therefore breaking one of his cardinal rules was clearly not an option. This dilemma was solved in one of those moments of brilliance, of simple clarity, that identify a true chef.
My moment of clarity came when I saw Mario’s manhood. It was incredible in proportion and very, well…manly. No wonder Mario walked with a funny gait; the poor man must have been horribly uncomfortable. “Of course”, I thought, “I have meat trimmings, beautiful fat and a perfect casing. I can make salami!”
Using short, quick strokes of my knife I slowly peeled the skin away from the organ. My newly procured casing was thoroughly salted and then pricked in multiple locations to ensure the salami could properly dry. I put the trimmings through the grinder and seasoned liberally but gently with salt, black pepper and a crisp chardonnay. For a textural contrast the fat was cut into a fine dice before mixing with the ground meat. The salami was then stuffed and allowed to ferment and dry in a cool, humid spot in my basement. When the salami is done I will send it to Mario’s father. I am sure he will appreciate the craftsmanship and will enjoy getting to spend some time with his son.
What could have been more perfect? The salami was very utilitarian, very Italian and very, very Mario. Couldn’t you just see it now? Mario running around Babbo, slices in hand, yelling, “You’ve got to try this!” Of course he wouldn’t tell anybody what it was, not until they confessed that they loved it and wanted more. Oh that Mario, he was just so Mario!
After that evening there could be no doubt, I was now a chef. I am very thankful for all that Mario so graciously provided and will forever be in his debt. No matter where I go I will always carry a piece of Mario with me.
Seriously, I made a little wallet.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Expanded reading list
I like understanding traditional ways of doing things (i.e. How did we survive before Wal-Mart?). I am also a very cheap bastard. These two aspects of my character are therefore delighted by Google Books where I can get very old instructional books for free.
1. Making the Farm Kitchen Pay (1914): My favorite section is the discussion of “putting down eggs” in which fresh eggs are preserved by soaking in silicate of soda. The fresh eggs will keep for 8 to 9 months. Seriously…I had no freaking clue that you could do this. The chapters for the book are as follows:
a. Dried vegetables and fruit
b. Salting down and pickling
c. Homemade vinegars
d. Homemade wines
e. Butchering time recipes
f. Potato ways
g. Vegetables and fruit
h. Breads and yeast
2. Successful Canning and Preserving (1917): Canning scares the crap out of me. Botulism is gonna get me! This text provides a wonderful overview of the development of canning. It is also a very interesting historical snapshot into 1917 America. I am not sure I would follow the canning recipes in this book…I suspect some of them would not be considered safe by current standards? Who the hell knows…I’ll get this figured out some day. Just not today.
1. Making the Farm Kitchen Pay (1914): My favorite section is the discussion of “putting down eggs” in which fresh eggs are preserved by soaking in silicate of soda. The fresh eggs will keep for 8 to 9 months. Seriously…I had no freaking clue that you could do this. The chapters for the book are as follows:
a. Dried vegetables and fruit
b. Salting down and pickling
c. Homemade vinegars
d. Homemade wines
e. Butchering time recipes
f. Potato ways
g. Vegetables and fruit
h. Breads and yeast
2. Successful Canning and Preserving (1917): Canning scares the crap out of me. Botulism is gonna get me! This text provides a wonderful overview of the development of canning. It is also a very interesting historical snapshot into 1917 America. I am not sure I would follow the canning recipes in this book…I suspect some of them would not be considered safe by current standards? Who the hell knows…I’ll get this figured out some day. Just not today.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Very Good Reading
Home Pork Making
by A.W. Fulton
The Art of Raising and Curing Pork on the Farm
This text, published in 1900, is available for free download from Google Books.
http://books.google.com/books?id=cNLVAAAAMAAJ&printsec=frontcover&dq=home+pork+making#v=onepage&q=&f=false
Chapters 1-2 speak to raising hogs followed by chapters 3-5 which deal with slaughtering, scalding and butchering. Chapter 6 is titled What to do with the Offal and from there the text goes into the finer points of making lard, curing hams, smokehouses, etc. with 17 chapters in all.
Happy reading.
by A.W. Fulton
The Art of Raising and Curing Pork on the Farm
This text, published in 1900, is available for free download from Google Books.
http://books.google.com/books?id=cNLVAAAAMAAJ&printsec=frontcover&dq=home+pork+making#v=onepage&q=&f=false
Chapters 1-2 speak to raising hogs followed by chapters 3-5 which deal with slaughtering, scalding and butchering. Chapter 6 is titled What to do with the Offal and from there the text goes into the finer points of making lard, curing hams, smokehouses, etc. with 17 chapters in all.
Happy reading.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Gone Fishin'
I have spent the past few weeks doing a lot of fishing. This is a new habit I picked up in Texas as I quickly learned that saltwater fishing has nothing in common with the freshwater fishing I grew up with. Saltwater fishing is actually a sport; the fish often win.
Three weeks ago we lost a fisherman who waded too far into the Gulf. The next week we lost another one to flesh eating bacteria (this stuff scares the crap out of me!). If this year stays true to past ones we will lose three to four more before the end of the year.
We have been catching sand trout, redfish, piggy perch, black drum, pompano, mangrove snapper, hardhead catfish, skipjacks and speck trout. Out of the hundred or so caught only one trout was a keeper. Using dead shrimp for bait; I'm fishing on the bottom and the boy is fishing on top.
I'm struggling to figure out how to throw a cast net. That seems like a pretty elemental skill that I need to learn. A feller ought to be able to catch his own bait.
Three weeks ago we lost a fisherman who waded too far into the Gulf. The next week we lost another one to flesh eating bacteria (this stuff scares the crap out of me!). If this year stays true to past ones we will lose three to four more before the end of the year.
We have been catching sand trout, redfish, piggy perch, black drum, pompano, mangrove snapper, hardhead catfish, skipjacks and speck trout. Out of the hundred or so caught only one trout was a keeper. Using dead shrimp for bait; I'm fishing on the bottom and the boy is fishing on top.
I'm struggling to figure out how to throw a cast net. That seems like a pretty elemental skill that I need to learn. A feller ought to be able to catch his own bait.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Pass the Ammo
Gun fever has taken hold at my house. I picked up my grandfather’s Winchester Model 94 30-30 while on vacation and after a day at the range my shoulder was bruised and battered but I was hooked. I love the lever action.
I am nowhere near a good enough shot with it yet to go after pigs but I have a few months to practice. I ended up putting 14 rounds into my 25 yard target (indoor range) which were grouped within a six inch circle. With some practice I know I will be able to do much better. I plan to take the hunter’s safety course in September and by then I am hoping it will have cooled off enough to safely field dress a large animal.
An important lesson was learned on the price of ammunition. At a little over a dollar a round my practice sessions will not be cheap. I have a friend that does reloads who has offered to teach me. I will take him up on the offer!
I also have a little buddy who wants to join me. He will be nine in September and is a strong and stout fellow. He has shot a .22, a .223 and the 30-30 and is as hooked on guns as me. I am getting different opinions on what would be an appropriate larger gun for him. Some folks swear that a .243 would be perfect while others are just as adamant about a .223. From what I can gather the .243 would be great for medium sized game but might have too much recoil for a kid (the 30-30 was just too much for him). The .223 would be very easy for him to shoot but is questionable on stopping power and would be outgrown in a few years. There is also a strong argument that until he learns to be a great shot with a .22 he really shouldn’t be shooting anything else. Any thoughts and input on a rifle for the boy would be appreciated.
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