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  • January 4, 2012

    Food Fight: Breakfast Burrito vs. Hash

    By David Draper

    As much as I love the freelance lifestyle, the one negative effect it has is on my waistline, much of which I attribute to the proximity of my desk to the fridge. While it is nice to have all-day access to a kitchen, it’s sometimes too easy to overeat. And much of what I overeat comes in the form of some type of breakfast dish. (Whether or not it’s before noon, doesn’t matter. Another benefit of freelancing.) Here are two simple favorites, one that has ridden a wave of popularity recently, while the other remains a humble standard served at late-night diners across the country.

  • October 27, 2010

    The Hunter’s Leftovers: Sandwiching

    By Colin Kearns

  • October 27, 2010

    The Hunter’s Tradition: Gathering

    By Steven Rinella

  • October 27, 2010

    The Hunter’s Job: Carving

    By T. Edward Nickens

    There may be other deeds more laden with American pomp than carving a Thanksgiving turkey—folding the Stars and Stripes comes to mind—but there aren’t many that train so keen a spotlight on a single moment, a single person, a single act with a knife in hand. The bird has been in the oven long enough to send its aroma wafting through the house, and now the gathered clan sits at the table, gawking at all the wedding china and silver that has emerged from the attic on a schedule similar to that of Halley’s comet. All eyes turn to the turkey. Cue up Norman Rockwell. And don’t screw it up.

    By now you should have paved the way for a civil service. Go ahead and decide which kids get the drumsticks before you say grace—no use ruining the meal with a fistfight right out of the gate. Let folks know they shouldn’t eat till Grandma first lifts her fork. No cursing. No ketchup bottles on the table. And honestly, it’s a celebration, so if little Johnny wants to slip a whoopee cushion under Grandpap’s seat, where’s the harm?

  • October 27, 2010

    The Hunter’s Moment: Blessing

    By T. Edward Nickens

    Give us this day our daily bread…

    I’m the last one out of the kitchen. When I step into the dining room the lump that has been inching toward the top of my stomach suddenly vaults to my throat, and I have to shut my eyes for just a passing few seconds. Let the wave of emotion settle down. This happens every year.
    Every Thanksgiving.

    Give us another dawn with golden light in the decoys, light that lifts our hearts toward heaven…

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