Field and Stream - Cover Packages RSS

Food Fight: Breakfast Burrito vs. Hash

Sarah Smith — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 10:13:35 -0500

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.

The Breakfast Burrito

A breakfast burrito of some sort, even if it’s just a scrambled egg, some cheese and a tortilla, is a near-daily staple here at my house. It’s quick. It’s easy. I can eat it with one hand and type with the other – the perfect meal. For this rendition, I marinated some caribou strips in tequila and lime juice, with a bit of cumin and a touch of cinnamon. Fried up with some diced potatoes and soft scrambled eggs, they were another evolution of my pasión for anything wrapped in a tortilla.

Hash

I love leftovers of most any kind and take some pride in extending the edibility of a single dish for a week or more. Here I’ve gotten a third meal out of one roasted duck, which I first featured here at Food Fight Friday a couple weeks ago. After making duck soup with the carcass, I diced up a piece of breast meat that survived the original melee, along with the leftover steamed broccoli and duck-fat-roasted potatoes, and fried it up in duck fat with one egg, over hard. As much as I loved the original meal, I think this quick and easy lunch was even better.

We’ve got one great reader photo that I’m saving for next week’s Food Fight in the hopes someone will step up for a head-to-head battle. If you think you’ve got what it takes, send your best food photo to fswildchef@gmail.com.

Christina Tosi’s Recipe for Crack Pie

Dave_Maccar — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 09:03:23 -0400

OK, so maybe if grandma is at the Thanksgiving dinner table, you might not want to tell her she’s about to eat “Crack” Pie. Just tell her it’s a new pie that’s sorta like pecan pie only without the pecans, and you should be safe.

This recipe comes from Christina Tosi, pastry chef of the Momofuku restaurants in New York City. Tosi is a mad scientist when it comes to desserts—and I mean that in the best possible way. She deep-fries apple pie. She bakes cookies with potato chip crumbs and pretzels in them. And in this recipe, she’s concocted a pie recipe that’s both delicious and, as the name implies, addictive. Trust us.

We’re not saying you should get rid of the pumpkin pie all together. Not at all. Just that you should make room for a Crack Pie, too. Because, after all, where’s the harm in extra pie at Thanksgiving?

Below you’ll find the recipe for Tosi’s Crack Pie. But, if you don’t have time to bake it at home, you can order it online and have one (or two) shipped to your home. And don’t worry: We won’t tell if you still take credit for it. —Colin Kearns

Ingredients

Crack filling
1 cup butter, melted
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup light brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp. salt
1/3 cup, plus 1 tsp., milk powder
3/4 cup, plus 1 tbsp., heavy cream
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
8 large egg yolks (per pie)

Oat Cookie Dough for Crust
1/2 cup butter, at room temperature
1/3 cup light brown sugar
3 tbsp. sugar
1 large egg (per pie)
2/3 cup, plus 1 tbsp., all purpose flour
1 scant cup rolled oats
1/8 scant tsp. baking powder
1/8 scant tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt

Oat Crust (yields two 10-inch pie crusts)
Oat Cookie (all oat cookie from above)
1/4 cup butter
1 1/2 tbsp. light brown sugar
1/8 tsp. salt

Directions

The crust:
1. Heat the oven to 350 degrees.
2. In a mixer, cream the butter and sugar. Add the egg and cream once more. Add the flour, oats, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
3. Pam-spray a quarter sheet pan with parchment and spread the oat cookie dough evenly on the sheet pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes.
4. Cool the oat cookie completely. Keep the oven at 350 degrees. In a microwave, gently melt your butter on a med/low setting for 15-30 seconds. Let it cool until it is not hot to the touch before proceeding.
5. Once cool, crumble the oat cookie by hand or in a food processor, mixing in melted/softened butter, brown sugar and salt. Divide the oat crust evenly over two 10-inch pie tins (two pies is always better than one). Using your fingers and the palm of your hand, press the oat cookie crust firmly into each pie tin. Place both pie shells on a sheet pan and prepare the filling for the pie.

The pie filling:
1. Gently melt the butter on the stove or in a microwave. In a large bowl, whisk together sugars, salt and milk powder. Add the melted butter to the bowl and whisk until all the dry ingredients are moist. Add the heavy cream and vanilla and whisk until the white from the cream has completely disappeared into the mixture. Add the egg yolks and gently whisk in the egg yolks just to combine.
2. Divide the crack pie filling evenly over both crusts. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes. During this time, the crack pie will still be very jiggly, but should become golden brown on top. Open the oven door and reduce the baking temperature to 325 degrees. When the oven reads 325 degrees, close the door and finish baking the crack pie for 5 minutes. At 5 minutes, the crack pie should still be just barely jiggly. If too loose, leave the pies in the oven an additional 5 minutes in the 325 degree oven.
3. Cool your pies completely, refrigerate or freeze. Slice each pie into 8 slices and serve cold.

The Hunter’s Leftovers: Sandwiching

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 14:59:09 -0400

You’re parked on the couch, falling into a food coma and looking forward to a hunt tomorrow. You’d better wake up early enough to spend some time in the kitchen, because inside the fridge are all the fixings you need to make the perfect field lunch. One that’s easy to fix. That’s compact, yet substantial. That requires no cleanup. The leftover sandwich—a meal so delicious it rivals Thursday’s main event.

First, the bread. This is the only part you need to buy specifically for the sandwich, so splurge on a good, crunchy loaf from a bakery and have it sliced thick. I like mine lightly toasted and slabbed with mayo. Next, the fixings. Pile some turkey on one slice. What follows depends on the leftovers you scored. To the other bread slice I usually smear layers of mashed potatoes, stuffing, and maybe some green bean casserole.

Finally, the secret ingredient: cranberry sauce. Homemade sauce will do, but I swear by the canned goods. I find the stuff addictively delicious, plus it makes practical sandwich sense because you can cut it into thin rounds—just as if you were slicing a tomato for a BLT. When you’re all set, join both halves, slightly flatten with a light smash, and wrap in foil.

Eat this in your treestand or inside a duck blind. Eat it on a stump in the grouse woods or with your back against a fence in a pheasant field. Share it with your daughter on the back of your truck. This sandwich will taste good anywhere. With so many leftovers in the fridge, it’ll taste good when you make it again tomorrow. And again the day after that. —Colin Kearns

The Hunter’s Tradition: Gathering

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 14:52:59 -0400

It’s been 389 years since the Pilgrims celebrated their first Thanksgiving at Plymouth, Mass. While scholars are still arguing over details of what happened during the three-day feast, I can guarantee a couple of facts: The Pilgrims were not watching football during those three days, and they were eating venison.

As much as possible, my friends and I stay true to these original traditions by gathering for our annual Thanksgiving feast at my brother Matt’s house in Miles City, Mont. It’s a place surrounded by a tremendous variety of delicious wild game, and the Thanksgiving season happens to be a perfect time to gather it. We disperse in the early-morning darkness in groups of three or four. Some of us might head south with a load of goose decoys to set up in a winter-wheat field along the Tongue River; then, in the late morning, we swap our steel BB shot for lead and head toward the cattail- and willow-coated islands where heavily pressured pheasants tend to gather. Others might head east to the badlands above the Yellowstone River to glass for mule deer; once the sun is high, they’ll take .22s to look for cottontails that are sunning themselves outside of abandoned prairie-dog burrows.

We gather back at the house in the late afternoon. Half of us do prep work in the kitchen, and half of us go to the garage for skinning and plucking duties. Our kill of the day is rounded out by the offerings that everyone brought in from his corner of the country: smoked salmon from Alaska, dried morels from Washington, an elk loin from southwest Montana.

It’s difficult to argue that these are “traditional” Thanksgiving meals, especially since no two are ever the same. Yet, to me, the tradition runs deeper than just a matter of ingredients. Each meal is a celebration of the land, the animals, and the skills that allow us to thrive here. These are things for which every outdoorsman should be thankful. —Steven Rinella

The Hunter’s Job: Carving

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 14:45:15 -0400

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?

But know this: The very act of carving a turkey—especially a wild turkey—changes the game at the table. It’s the moment when something—the essence of which is undeniably, unabashedly wild—transfigures into the very building block of civilization: human food. Each of us closes that circle with a fork.

It’s a metamorphosis worthy of a moment’s contemplation, at the least, and worthy of the giving of thanks. And for the sake of Ben Franklin and all things pure and true, forgo any blade that comes with a power cord sticking out of the handle. —T. Edward Nickens

The Hunter’s Moment: Blessing

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 14:39:18 -0400

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…

Family rings the table—half of us half mad from a half day spent toiling in the kitchen, but somehow laughter still rings across the room. There is an embarrassment of food on the table. But my eyes move over the country ham and collard greens, the sweet potatoes with their crown of caramelized marshmallows. Oddly enough, the food hardly registers. It’s the sheer, incalculable weight of blessing that rocks me back on my heels. Every face reflects a memory of time outdoors: My wife hanging on to the console, the boat bucking in a horrid blow, lightning crackling. A little girl asleep on my shoulder, as the first deer steps out of the woods. My mother beside me at the base of a squirrel tree, white-gray curls barely controlled by a camouflage cap.

Give us a sunset whose promise is tomorrow. Give us a hunger to taste the wild places that yet remain…

And also the blessings left behind by those no longer gathered here, the ones who have gone on to where they are either eternally thankful for a life marked by a pursuit of grace, or eternally not. But they still have their place at the table: In the cranberry salad, still prepared by consulting a ragged slip of paper, the recipe scrawled in faded pencil. In the slight dimple of a granddaughter’s chin, the green eyes of a grandson. Tracks of the ancestors. Seeing this, sensing this, I shut my eyes again.

Give us this day a glimpse of the glory found in the quiet pool of a stream, in the wild cackle of a goose…

Then we join hands, child to child, husband to wife, man to man—generations linked by intertwined fingers and futures—and I sneak in one last look, a quick glance beyond the turkey and the table to the faces lined around. I bow my head to pray.

Give us this day. —T. Edward Nickens

How To Hunt Fall Turkeys (For Your Thanksgiving Feast)

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 14:13:39 -0400

Fall was the original turkey season. We eat turkey at Thanksgiving, not Easter, yet the generation of hunters that came of age during the bird’s “great comeback” sees turkey hunting as a spring-only pursuit. Although many turkey hunters have never tried it, they’ll tell you the fall hunt is boring (“Turkey hunting is all about the gobble”) or wrong (“I’d never kill a hen”).

They’re missing out. Half a dozen lost turkeys converging on you from six different directions gets your heart going every bit as fast as a spring gobbler at 30 steps does. Shooting a hen is no more wrong than shooting an antlerless deer, and after you’ve had a 10-pound hen or even a 6-pound poult roasted whole for Thanksgiving, a Butterball will never satisfy you again. If you’re determined to shoot gobblers only, they’re out there in the fall, by the flock.

You already own the gear you need. You just have to adjust your attitude and learn a couple of new skills. Certainly there are plenty of turkeys out there for you to chase. If you complained about gobblers being henned up all spring, here’s your chance to do something about it by improving the local tom-to-hen ratio.

TACTICS
Bagging a fall bird is not as easy as getting a gobbler fired up, like you would in spring. Here are the best ways to get your turkey in the autumn season.

Scatter and Recall
This classic fall turkey tactic is also the most fun. You sneak close—almost within gun range—of a flock of hens and poults, then take your shells out of your gun and rush the birds, screaming, waving your arms, and trying to scatter turkeys in all directions. A good break is crucial. If the birds see you and run off together, all you’ve accomplished is scaring them away. But if they fly away, usually they fan out enough that you can go 100 to 200 yards in the direction they flew and set up. The perfect break, though, sends turkeys to all points of the compass. The best flock busters are turkey dogs, where legal. They can cover more ground, smell out turkeys, and scatter flocks better than humans can. Sit down at the scatter point, wait a few minutes to let the woods settle, then start calling. Soon turkeys will surround you, calling to one another as they regroup. Chime in with kee kees and/or lost yelps of your own. You could have birds in range within 10 to 15 minutes.

Get Under a Roost
Once you locate a roost, you can sneak in and set up in the dark the next morning, as you would in spring. In one hour under a fall roost, you will hear more different turkey sounds than you will throughout an entire spring season, including gobbles. You may find 50 to 60 birds roosted together. When that many turkeys fly down, there’s a lot of calling back and forth as they sort themselves out to start the day. Yelp and cluck quietly. A decoy might help here, but it’s not essential.

Challenge a Flock
Turkeys are usually curious about new birds and how they fit into the pecking order. Walk along logging roads and ridgetops, near field edges, or where your scouting leads you to believe that turkeys are within earshot and call, yelping and cutting. Have a flock patterned? Set up between the roost and their breakfast, put out a hen decoy, and yelp occasionally. When you get an answer, call back with an aggressive response. Do it right and the whole flock will come running, ready to rumble.

Provoke a Gobbler
To call a fall gobbler, you have to sound like one. Use gobbler yelps to strike a bird. When you get a reply, come back with feisty yelps and angry purrs. Catch birds in the right mood, and they will treat you to a strutting and gobbling show that matches a spring hunt.

CALLING
Turkeys speak the same language in fall as they do in spring. The difference is, in fall you make female sounds to female turkeys and male sounds to male turkeys. Have these calls in your autumn repertoire:

Kee Kee Run
Kee kees are the go-to call after you break up a flock of hens and poults. They can also work as a locator. The kee kee is the sound a poult makes because it’s too young to “break” a yelp. It’s a high-pitched whistle that sounds like hurry, hurry, hurry or boy, boy, boy. To make the sound on a mouth call, simply draw out the high-pitched first half of the yelp. A yelp is kee-yoke. You’re just doing the kee part three or four times. Now and then, mix the kee kees with yelps.

Lost Yelp
A lost hen makes a series of as many as 10 to 15 plaintive yelps. This call works as a locator for flocks of hens and mixed flocks of hens and poults.

Gobbler Yelp
Gobblers make a low, hoarse yelp, delivered at a slow cadence. Often, gobblers will yelp just a couple of times rather than make longer runs. Use two to three yelps and occasionally add an aggressive purr as if you’re looking for a fight.

Gobble
If you’re having a hard time getting a tom to respond, try using a gobble to challenge a dominant bird or a flock of gobblers to charge in for a fight.

SCOUTING
Without wound-up gobblers sounding off, locating turkeys is a lot harder than in spring. Here’s the primer for how to find fall birds. Turkeys are flocked up in fall, but not always in the same place you saw them in spring. Some fall flocks can be patterned to the minute; others are maddeningly random. Still, if you know where they roost and where they eat, you can figure out where they’re going to be throughout the day. In the fall, adult gobblers patch up their breeding-season differences and band together, sometimes in flocks of a dozen or more. You’ll see hens and poults in groups as small as five or six or as large as 60. Here’s where to find them:

Open Areas
Until the first hard frosts of the year, turkeys feed on leafy browse and all the grasshoppers they can catch in fields of longer grasses. Seek out turkeys in pastures, too. An overturned cow pie is a sure sign the birds have been there; they’ll pick the corn out, then flip the patty to expose insects underneath. After the harvest, glass for turkeys in fields of corn, wheat, and beans.

Wooded Areas
As mast drops, look for V-shaped scratchings in the leaves as well as tracks and droppings in oak flats. A turkey-size depression in loose dirt indicates a dust bath, and if you see lots of feathers and droppings around, birds are probably using it regularly at midday.

Roosts
Turkeys will change roosts during the fall, depending on where they’re finding food. A roost tree may hold whole flocks, resulting in droppings and feathers piled barnyard-deep around the trunk. You can also pin down a roost as you would in spring, by sitting on a high spot on a calm evening and listening for the sound of big wings lifting heavy bodies into the air.

FALL GEAR
What you use in spring will work in autumn. But if you’re looking to update or add to your turkey gear, here’s what to get:

Gun:
You can hunt with your 12-gauge—I do—or a smaller gun. Most fall turkeys are less than half the size of a mature gobbler. A youth-model 20-gauge like the Remington Model 870 Express Youth ($373; remington.com) or the Mossberg 500 Super Bantam Pump-Action Turkey ($389; mossberg.com) is enough gun and easier to tote through the woods than a 12-gauge. Shots are usually closer in fall, but stick with a supertight choke, as you may have to shoot one bird out of a bunch without hitting any others with stray pellets.

Ammo:
You don’t need as heavy a load in fall as you do in spring. If you’re shooting hens or poults, 13⁄4 ounces of size 6 shot is sufficient because the vitals are slightly smaller and the bones are not as tough. (Winchester Supreme High Velocity Turkey 3-inch shotshells, $20 for 10 rounds;winchester.com)

Vest:
This strap vest with a built-in chair lets you sit anywhere in comfort, but it folds up for running and gunning. (RedHead Bucklick Creek High-Back Turkey Lounger, $70; 800-920‑4400; basspro.com)

Boots:
Snakes or no snakes, these are wonderful turkey hunting boots: comfortable, supportive, and tall enough for you to wade small streams. (Cabela’s Gore-Tex Cordura Snake Boots, $130; 800-237‑4444; cabelas.com)

Binoculars:
Light, compact, and with rubber armor coating, good glasses like these are fall essentials. Quality optics help you spot birds in fields and distinguish hens from gobblers. (Zeiss Conquest 8x30, $625; 800-441‑3005; zeiss.com)

Decoy:
The roll-up decoy weighs nothing in your gamebag and looks like a real hen. Put out one to represent a lost turkey, or a few to resemble birds regrouping after a scatter. (Flambeau Upright Hen, $20; 800-232‑3474; decoys.com)

Calls:
The following are especially well suited for the autumn season:
• This old favorite double-sided box makes hen yelps on one side, gobbler yelps on the other. (Lynch World Champion Box Call, $45; 229-226‑5793; lynchworldwide.com)
• The best mouth call for fall gobblers is a three- or four-reed diaphragm that’s loosened up with age and use. The World Champ has four medium-thick reeds, great for making low-pitched gobbler yelps. (Quaker Boy Screamin’ Green World Champ, $7.29; 800-544‑1600; quakerboy.com)
• With two thin reeds, this diaphragm creates high-pitched whistles with ease. (Quaker Boy Kee Kee, $5.69; 800-544‑1600; quakerboy.com)

Side Dish: Purée of Rutabaga with Sage and Fried Onions

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 14:09:03 -0400

Ingredients:
2 lbs. rutabaga
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 oz. unsalted butter
4 sprigs fresh sage
1 small onion, sliced into 1/8-inch rings
Flour for dredging
1 quart canola oil for frying
Salt

Directions:
•Peel and cut rutabaga into 2-inch chunks.
• Place in 4-quart saucepot cover with water; season well with salt and simmer for about 20 minutes or until it’s very tender. Drain well in colander.
• In same saucepot, boil cream and reduce by half; add sage leaves as the pot comes off the heat. Place drained and cooked rutabaga in blender (in batches if needed), add cream and blend well until very smooth. Add butter and blend again checking for seasoning. Reserve warm.
• In a clean 4-quart saucepot, heat oil to approximately 350 degrees (a water droplet should boil, hiss, and evaporate quickly).
• Lightly flour then fry onion slices in batches until just golden brown and crisp. Allow to drain and cool on paper towels.
• Serve hot puree with crisp onions.

Side Dish: Yukon Gold Potato Purée

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 13:21:27 -0400

Ingredients:
1 lb. Yukon gold potatoes
4 oz. heavy cream
4 oz. unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

Directions:
• Peel and dice potatoes into even 1 1/2-inch cubes; cover with water and reserve.
• Place potatoes in a large saucepot, add salt and bring to a boil; simmer until just done. (Tip of knife easily penetrates the potato, but it does not fall apart.) Drain very well in colander.
• Heat cream in small saucepot to just below simmer; reduce by half, season with salt and pepper, and begin sieving potatoes through fine mesh screen or ricer into the sauce pot with the cream on a low flame burner, adding the butter as you go.
• Remove from heat, check seasoning and reserve warm until ready to serve.

Side Dish: Truffled Mac & Cheese

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 13:14:46 -0400

Ingredients:
1 cup orzo, cooked then lightly tossed with 1 tsp white truffle oil
3 oz. heavy cream
6 oz. chicken stock
6 tbsp. manchego cheese, shredded
Kosher salt and cracked black pepper to taste

Directions:
• Heat cream and chicken stock in a saucepan.
• Add orzo and cheese and cook for approximately 2 minutes.
• Season with salt and pepper, to taste. Serve warm.

Side Dish: Homemade Cranberry Sauce with Maple and Tarragon

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 12:52:56 -0400

Ingredients:
4 cups fresh cranberries
1-1/2 cups maple syrup
1/2 cup red wine
Pinch of salt
3 sprigs tarragon
1 tbsp. tangerine zest

Directions
In a 4-quart saucepot, reduce red wine by half, add maple syrup and bring back to boil.
Add cranberries, a pinch of salt and bring back to a boil and simmer for 5 minutes. Stir gently on occasion to cook evenly. Remove from heat after most of the cranberries begin to "pop," and add tarragon and tangerine zest to infuse, allow for cooling and then remove tarragon.

Side Dish: Leek Pudding

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 12:38:39 -0400

Ingredients:
2 cups 1/2-inch-thick sliced leeks (white and light green parts only)
Kosher salt
4 tablespoons (2 ounces) unsalted butter
Freshly ground black pepper
12 cups 1-inch cubes crustless Brioche
1 tablespoon finely chopped chives
1 teaspoon thyme leaves
3 large eggs
3 cups whole milk
3 cups heavy cream
Freshly grated nutmeg
1 cup shredded Comté or Emmentaler

Directions:
1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
2. Put the leek rounds in a large bowl of tepid water and swish so that any dirt falls to the bottom of the bowl. Set a medium sauté pan over medium-high heat, lift the leeks from the water, drain, and add them to the pan. Season with salt and cook, stirring often, for about 5 minutes. As the leeks begin to soften, lower the heat to medium-low. The leeks will release liquid. Stir in the butter to emulsify, and season with pepper to taste. Cover the pan with a parchment lid, and cook, stirring every 10 minutes, until the leeks are very soft, 30 to 35 minutes. If at any point the butter breaks or looks oily, stir in about a tablespoon of water to re-emulsify the sauce. Remove and discard the parchment lid.
3. Meanwhile, spread the bread cubes on a baking sheet and toast in the oven for about 20 minutes, rotating the pan about halfway through, until dry and pale gold. Transfer to a large bowl. Leave the oven on.
4. Add the leeks to the bread and toss well, then add the chives and thyme. Step 5 Lightly whisk the eggs in another large bowl. Whisk in the milk, cream, a generous pinch of salt, pepper to taste, and a pinch of nutmeg.
6. Sprinkle 1/4 cup of the cheese in the bottom of a 9-by-13-inch baking pan. Spread half the leeks and croutons in the pan and sprinkle with another 1/4 cup cheese. Scatter the remaining leeks and croutons over and top with another 1/4 cup cheese. Pour in enough of the custard mixture to cover the bread and press gently on the bread so it soaks in the milk. Let soak for about 15 minutes.
7. Add the remaining custard, allowing some of the soaked cubes of bread to protrude. Sprinkle the remaining 1/4 cup cheese on top and sprinkle with salt. Bake for 1 1/2 hours, or until the pudding feels set and the top is brown and bubbling.

Thomas Keller is the chef of the French Laundry, Per Se, Bouchon, and Ad Hoc. This recipe comes from his cookbook, Ad Hoc At Home.

Thomas Keller’s Recipe for Salt-Crusted Striped Bass

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 12:29:41 -0400

Roasting a whole fish in a salt crust makes a very impressive presentation—cracking the crust is an event. And the technique results in very moist fish that’s perfectly seasoned (not at all salty). If you have a large ovenproof platter, you can bake it on that and deliver it straight to the table.

Ingredients:
One 4-pound striped bass, gutted and scaled, fins cut off with scissors
4 cups kosher salt
8 large egg whites
About 1/2 bunch fl at-leaf parsley
Fronds from 1 fennel bulb (reserve the bulb for another use)
2 thin lemon slices
2 thin orange slices
Extra virgin olive oil

Directions:
1. Remove the fish from the refrigerator and let stand for 15 to 30 minutes.
2. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
3. Stir together the salt and egg whites in a medium bowl.
4. On a large ovenproof platter or a baking sheet, make a layer of the salt crust mixture just over 1/2-inch thick and slightly larger than the fish, patting the mixture down into an even layer.
5. Stuff the back end of the cavity of the fish with the parsley and fennel, using twice as much parsley as fennel. Lay the citrus slices next to them, inside the cavity, following the shape of the belly. Center the fish on the salt crust. Working from the bottom to the top of the fish, pat the remaining crust mixture over it in a thin coating, covering it completely. (You may have more of the salt mixture than you need.) Using a paper towel, pat the crust to remove any excess moisture.
6. Roast for about 40 minutes, turning the pan around once after 20 minutes, until the thickest part of the fish registers about 125 degrees (insert the thermometer through the crust). Remove from the oven and let rest for 10 minutes.
7. To serve the fish, have on hand a serving platter and a tray to hold the crust and bones. Crack the crust with a wooden spoon or mallet, breaking it into large pieces, and carefully remove it. Push back the skin and, using a palette knife or narrow spatula, lift the top fillet, in large pieces, from the frame of bones that runs down the center of the fish and place on the serving platter. Then, starting at the tail end, lift the frame out in one piece. Discard the fennel and parsley, and reserve the citrus slices to use as a garnish. Check the bottom fillet for any visible bones and remove them, then lift out the fillet in large pieces and transfer to the platter.
8. Garnish with the citrus slices and drizzle with olive oil.

Thomas Keller is the chef of the French Laundry, Per Se, Bouchon, and Ad Hoc. This recipe comes from his cookbook, Ad Hoc At Home.

John Besh’s Recipe for Boneless Roast Duck Porchetta

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 12:11:20 -0400

“I love to duck hunt, and I love to prepare them in the manner of porchetta—a boned, stuffed, and crisp Italian pork roast. This recipe will work with mallards, wood ducks, pintails, and green- or bluewing teal. And the quince sauce that accompanies the duck is excellent with any roasted gamebird, venison, or pork.”

Editors’ Take: Yes, there are a lot of ingredients listed here. And, yes, you’ll need to do more butchering than usual. (When you dress the birds, remove the head, neck, backbone, and breastbone; leave the wings and drumsticks intact.) But the cooking time is short, and your efforts will be rewarded with a dish that looks beautiful and tastes delicious.

Ingredients:

Ducks:
4 deboned mallards
1⁄4 cup bacon
1 cup yellow onion, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup wild mushrooms, sliced
1⁄2 cup fresh bread crumbs
1 Tbsp. dried porcini mushrooms, chopped
1 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
Leaves from 1 sprig fresh thyme
1 tsp. fresh sage, minced
4 thin slices -country ham
1 Tbsp. olive oil

Sauce:
1⁄2 cup quince preserves
1⁄4 cup rice wine vinegar
1⁄4 cup chicken stock
1 shallot
1 clove garlic
1 teaspoon ginger

Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 500 degrees. In a 3- to 4-quart saucepan over medium-high heat, fry bacon (roughly chopped) for 3 minutes, stirring frequently. Add onion, reduce heat to medium, and cook, stirring occasionally, until it becomes translucent, about 5 minutes.
2. Add garlic and wild mushrooms to the pan and increase the heat to high. You’ll notice a good amount of liquid forming in the pan, which you’ll want to reduce until relatively dry before removing from heat, about 5 minutes.
3. Remove pan from heat. Add bread crumbs, porcini, red pepper flakes, thyme, and sage. Season with salt and pepper. Stir well and allow the mixture to cool. This will be the stuffing for the duck, so taste and add salt and pepper if necessary.
4. Lay the ducks flat, skin side down, on a cutting board and season the breast and leg meat with a touch of salt and pepper. Lay a slice of country ham over each bird. Place a quarter of the stuffing mixture on top of each slice of country ham.
5. Carefully wrap the breast of each duck around the stuffing, so that the stuffing is completely enveloped. Tie two strands of butcher’s twine around the body so the duck will retain its shape while it cooks. Gather the tips of the drumsticks and secure them with butcher’s twine. Rub the outside of each trussed duck with a touch of olive oil and season with salt and pepper.
6. Place ducks, breast side up, in a shallow roasting pan and transfer to the oven. Immediately reduce the oven to 200 degrees and roast the birds for 15 minutes. (I recommend cooking the ducks until they’re warm in the center, which yields a bird that’s medium roasted.)
7. For the sauce, combine all ingredients (mince the shallot, garlic, and ginger) in a saucepan over moderate heat, stirring occasionally. Reduce until it coats the back of a spoon, about 30 minutes. Strain the sauce through a sieve into a serving bowl, discarding the solids. Step 8 Remove the twine from each duck. Serve the duck and sauce together.

John Besh is the chef of Restaurant August in New Orleans.

Tim Love’s Recipe for Grilled Venison Backstrap with Deer Rub

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 12:00:35 -0400

“As a chef and a hunter, a big part of hunting for me is using the entire animal—a way of life we learned from the Native Americans. One of the great things about venison is that it goes very well with wild turkey. Plus, venison is one of those ingredients that just say fall and family to me.”

Editors’ Take: If we’re fortunate enough to have a fresh backstrap for Thanksgiving, this is what we’re making. The grilled meat and the spicy rub will provide a nice flavor contrast to the roast turkey and duck. The only tricky part will be finding a plate big enough for all three dishes. Of course, there’s always seconds.

Ingredients:

Backstrap:
1 large backstrap, all silverskin removed
1⁄2 cup peanut oil
1⁄2 cup deer rub

Deer Rub:
2 Tbsp. cumin
2 Tbsp. coriander
1 Tbsp. palm sugar
1 Tbsp. long red chile, ground
1 Tbsp. kosher salt

Directions:
1. Let backstrap reach room temperature. Rub with peanut oil. Season with the rub.
2. Heat grill (or grill pan) to 400 degrees. Sear for 3 minutes per side.
3. Remove from grill and let rest for at least 10 minutes. Place back on grill until hot, then slice thin and serve.

Tim Love is the chef of Lonesome Dove Western Bistro in Fort Worth.

The Tribute: Behold, The Backstrap

Online Editors — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 17:39:31 -0500

Thoughts on eating venison from Editor-at-Large T. Edward Nickens.

Sure, the tenderloins are a more immediate delicacy, but they are a fleeting pleasure, really, small and flirtatious and destined to leave you wanting more. It is the longissimus dorsi muscle—the vaunted backstrap—that aids the deer in its soaring bounds, its nitrogen-powered, zero-to-see-ya-later speeds, and its incomparable edibility.

The backstraps lie just to the sides of the transverse processes of the vertebrae. They are easily freed of gristle and connective tissue and are perhaps the leanest meat on the carcass. They can be removed with a paring knife and cut with a fork. Like good rice or stone-ground grits, backstraps are both step-side pickup and Lamborghini Murciélago: They can stand alone on a plate, seasoned with little more than flame and pepper, or serve as a canvas for individual expression.

Every serious deer hunter has a secret preparation—a coveted recipe handed down by a grizzled uncle or stumbled upon thanks to just enough beer to make you forget the strictures of culinary decency. I’ve had backstrap slathered in mustard and Coca-Cola, split like a pig and stuffed with tomatoes, and stewed with onions by a Cajun spiritualist.

And each time, it was delicious. I’ve also had backstrap bad many times, but the sin was the same: overcooking. Do with the backstrap what you will, but serve it as rare as you can get away with. That way you may very well eat in one sitting as much backstrap as a single human being can stand. But never so much that you are not wanting more.

The Plea: Remember the Liver

Online Editors — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 17:37:55 -0500

Thoughts on eating venison from Editor Anthony Licata.

When my dad was teaching me to hunt deer, he’d run through a checklist before we left the house. License? Got it. Cartridges? Yep. Deer drag? Uh-huh. Empty plastic bread bag? Of course. How else was I to carry home that once-a-year treat: fresh venison liver?

I still pack a bag for liver, but I seem to be the exception judging from the strange looks I get from my hunting companions as I reach into the entrails of their field-dressed deer to pluck that glorious purple slab out of the pile.

Liver, once an American staple, now has an image problem. Maybe it’s because a generation only knows the dish from Mom’s frying a nasty old cow’s liver until it had the texture of a hunting boot. Which is too bad, since venison liver, served slightly pink inside, is packed with flavor and a traditional way to celebrate a successful hunt. I’ve eaten it as a family meal at home, as a snack at camp, and grilled over a fire on a mountainside as the buck it belonged to lay next to me, cooling in the snow.

Our increasingly timid tastes have hurt liver’s popularity. Hunters should be more adventurous. If you’re the type who loves grilled chicken breast, there’s not much I can tell you other than, if you’re not going to take the liver, do you mind if I do?

The Manifesto: Eat What You Kill

Online Editors — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 17:36:36 -0500

Thoughts on eating venison from F&S contributor Steven Rinella.

Why should you eat the deer that you kill? For a moment, let’s dismiss the obvious reasons. Forget the nutritional value of venison, which has higher protein levels and less fat than domesticated, grain-fattened beef and pork. Set aside the flavor, which is more substantial and interesting than anything you’ll find at the grocery. Never mind the economic benefits of a pursuit that can reward a day’s work with enough meat to feed you for a year. And toss aside how properly stored venison allows you to relive the memories from a great season around your family’s dinner table.

What’s left? Probably the biggest reason of them all: because we love our rights as hunters. Every year, American outdoorsmen lose critical wildlife habitat, hunting privileges, and access to land due to the actions of a public that all too often views hunting as a cruel and frivolous sport. Responsible hunters battle these losses with their votes, wallets, and pens—all very important tools—but we shouldn’t forget to use our forks as well.

Through the examples of our eating habits and our thorough care for and preparation of game, hunters can demonstrate to others that we count on wild places and wild animals for an important and irreplaceable part of our physical sustenance. Now is the time to make this connection, because current national discussions about food rely on catchphrases that will look familiar to hunters: locally harvested, free-range, organic, humanely slaughtered. Some nonhunters will never understand the passion that pulls us into the woods, but many of them will sympathize with our passion for what we bring home. In my mind, this puts hunters into a pretty good position. In the battle to protect hunting, the most effective tool might just be the most delicious.

The Ritual: After Death, Before Venison

Online Editors — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 17:34:03 -0500

Thoughts on eating venison from author and F&S contributor Rick Bass.

It’s not my place at all to suggest a right way or a wrong way. My own view is that if a post-kill ritual comes naturally, fine. But if it doesn’t, it’s as disrespectful to fake as it is to not even consider one in the first place. I don’t much like hearing other hunters whoop and shout and high-five following the occasions when they are fortunate enough to find an animal—I don’t care for that at all. But I usually hunt far enough into the backcountry that that curious aversion of mine generally takes care of itself—self-selected against such intrusion by distance and terrain.

I should hasten to say that post-kill rituals can take quite a long time to develop—years, or decades—and it’s possible also that as we age and become more attuned to our own mortality, we gain a greater interest in such matters: an increased empathy, curiosity, awareness. The ritual is partly for the animal but also partly for ourselves.

The first part of my ritual is easy; it’s what our parents told us a long time ago, the please and thank you rule. I say thank you—very quietly, under my breath really—to the mountain I’m on and to the animal. Then I set about cleaning the animal. It’s often too far from a road or trail to drag, so I quarter it for packing out. I like to leave the meat on the bone for aging—hams and shoulders—but I make sure the carcass that remains—head, vertebrae, ribs—is positioned on its side, with each part as it was, back in the brief assembly of life. I place each foreleg and shin in its appropriate pairing, so that the animal is positioned as if in midflight, reminding me of the great Edward Hoagland line about a leopard poised to jump as if in “an extra-emphatic leap into the hereafter.”

Lastly, I place my brass bullet casing against the trunk of the tree where I was sitting and position a rock over it. It’s unlikely that I’ll ever be back to that tree—there’s too much new country to hunt and too few years. But I like to think that someday, maybe a century or more from now, a hunter might be sitting against that same tree in the fall and, should he or she dislodge that oddly tilted stone—which would be lichen-covered by then and gripped with a webbing of kinnikinnick—might notice the brass and understand that once upon a time there was another hunter like him or her.

Will hunters still be pursuing deer with .270-calibers, or will that traditional rifle seem by that point as quaint as stone arrowheads? I have no idea. But I like to imagine that such a hunter will stop to wonder and realize and remember that each of us is part of an ancient equation and relationship, one worthy of respect for our quarry, the landscape we hunt, and for ourselves—the manner in which we pursue our desire and our meals. Life is a privilege; the moments are almost always washing past.

The Obligation: Feed Deer to Your Kids

Online Editors — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 17:29:43 -0500

Thoughts on eating venison from Editor-at-Large T. Edward Nickens.

For a long time—almost too long—I made the mistake of treating venison as something special. Backstraps were saved for company. Roasts were relegated to holidays. All that changed when the kids came along.

My family of four will eat three whitetails a year, and I’ve learned to treat venison as no big deal. Today, it’s the meat in the soup and in the stew. It’s the meat on the shish kebabs and in the pasta salad. When my kids’ friends are over for dinner, we don’t have “wild-game nights.” We have supper. You want meat? Then it’s a wild-game night. What’s the big deal? (The big deal is that most of their friends rave over “Bambi Spaghetti” and don’t even know it’s venison until later. Which my kids think is hilarious.)

I’m not saying I don’t make a big deal out of a few special meals from each special animal. But by and large, deer meat has become an ordinary part of my kids’ lives, a routine expression of our family’s reliance on the harvest of the woods. I’d argue that that’s a pretty big deal in its own way.

A Quick Guide to Refrigerating and Freezing Fresh Venison

Online Editors — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 17:17:47 -0500

A venison preparation tip from Hank Shaw, author of the award-winning food blog Hunter Angler Gardener Cook

Your trophy is now heaped on the countertop in small mountains of meat. Here is how to keep the meat fresh-as-the-day-it-was-butchered if you plan to eat it in…

One Week: There’s no need to freeze it for such a short time period. Keep the meat well wrapped, and in the coldest part of the refrigerator, far away from the door.

One Month: Center the meat in laminated freezer paper. Fold the short ends over the meat and turn the package over on a countertop, keeping it in contact with the counter to push out air. Once it’s flipped, use your fingers to press the air out of the sides as if you were sealing an envelope. Repeat twice more and tape the flap.

One Year: There are two methods to keep meat edible for the long stretch. A vacuum sealer sucks all the air out of packages, staving off freezer burn and saving freezer space. If you don’t have a vacuum-sealer, freeze each cut in water. Place the meat in a zip-seal freezer bag, and fill the bag with ice water. Press down on the bag as you seal it so that water spills out of the top, driving air out of the bag. Also, I like to mark each package with the date, the cut, and a detail about the deer, such as “7-pointer by the swamp gate.” That way I can relive the memory with each morsel.

A Better Burger: Five Tips for Making Ground Venison Patties

Online Editors — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 16:39:43 -0500

A venison preparation tip from Hank Shaw, author of the award-winning food blog Hunter Angler Gardener Cook

1. Remember those Brontosaurus burgers your mom made when you were a kid? Charred on the outside, raw inside? Don’t let your venison burgers get thicker than an inch, or you’ll suffer that same fate.

2. Grind your own meat. You’ll get a fresher taste and be able to eat the burger more rare if you’ve ground it just before cooking, as there is less chance for bacterial contamination.

3. Always include at least 20 percent fat with your venison. Any less and it will be dry and crumbly. I go 25 percent.

4. Check the fat on the deer before tossing it. Many whitetails in agricultural areas put on clean-tasting fat that is excellent eating and makes ideal burger fat.

5. If your butcher has removed all the deer’s fat already, use pork fat instead of beef tallow. It’s softer and more neutral tasting and has less saturated fat, meaning it’s better for you.

The Best Meat for Venison Jerky (and How to Slice It)

Online Editors — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 16:20:40 -0500

A venison preparation tip from Hank Shaw, author of the award-winning food blog Hunter Angler Gardener Cook

Nearly every part of the deer can be made into jerky, but the best cuts are the eye round and rump roast from the hind legs. Any large roast from the hind leg will do. Why? Big cuts mean larger pieces of jerky, and these roasts have most of their muscle fibers running in the same direction. This is important.

To our mind, the best jerky is pliable yet chewy—and doesn’t make you gnaw on dried muscle fibers longer than your hand. That means cutting against the grain of the meat, in 1/8-inch-thich slices. Don’t cut too thin or the venison will dry out like a shingle on your roof. The best way to get this cut every time is to partially freeze the meat: A large roast will need 90 minutes to 2 hours in the chiller before cutting.

Why Brines are Better than Marinades for Venison

Online Editors — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 15:12:30 -0500

A venison preparation tip from Hank Shaw, author of the award-winning food blog Hunter Angler Gardener Cook

Marinades damage the structure of the meat, making it more tender—but also mushy. They penetrate less than 1⁄4 inch and can leave residues on the meat surface that burn during cooking. They are, in my opinion, useless.

If you need to tenderize your venison, brine instead. A brine penetrates deep into meat—and carries flavor with it. The salt solution also prevents the meat fibers from toughening up as much and helps the meat retain moisture.

Start with a brine of 2 tablespoons of salt per quart of water and add flavorings from there. Suggestions? Bay leaves, juniper berries, cracked black pepper, chile pepper, thyme, celery seed. Last tip: Don’t brine for more than a day, or you risk having very salty meat.

Bobby Flay's Pan-Roasted Venison with Jalapeño Sauce Recipe

colinkearns — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 17:24:35 -0500

The venison that we serve at Mesa Grill is farm-raised and never gamey. It’s also incredibly lean—so don’t overcook it. I love to pair it with a sweet and spicy sauce such as this one as venison loves to be paired with big flavors. Tangerines are a great choice for the sauce because of their bright and slightly tart flavor.

Ingredients — Serves 4

Roasted Jalapeño Sauce:
1 cup red wine vinegar
1 cup white distilled vinegar
2 cups sugar
1 cup thawed tangerine juice concentrate
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small red onion, finely diced
4 jalapeños, roasted, peeled, and chopped
1 cup red wine
6 cups chicken stock
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Venison:
4 (8-ounce) venison steaks
Salt and freshly ground pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil

Directions

Roasted Jalapeño Sauce:
1. Combine vinegar and sugar in a medium saucepan over high heat and cook until the sugar is completely dissolved. Whisk in the tangerine concentrate and cook until the mixture is thickened and reduced by half, stirring occasionally, 10-15 minutes.

2. Heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add onions and jalapeños and cook until onions are soft.

3. Increase the heat to high, add the wine and cook until reduced to ¼ cup. Add the chicken stock, bring to a boil and cook until reduced to 2 cups, stirring occasionally, 20-25 minutes. Whisk in the tangerine mixture and cook until a sauce consistency, 15-20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Strain the sauce into a small saucepan and season with salt and pepper. Keep warm.

4. Whisk in the tangerine concentrate and brown sugar and cook to a sauce consistency; season with salt and pepper. Strain into a small saucepan and keep warm until serving.

Venison:
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Season the venison on both sides with salt and pepper.

2. Heat the oil in a large saute pan over medium-high heat. Add venison and cook until golden brown and a crust has formed, 2-3 minutes. Turn over, place pan in oven, and continue cooking for about 2-3 minutes for medium-rare doneness.

3. Drizzle the venison steaks with the tangerine and Roasted jalapeño sauce.