Sloppy Joes are usually a pretty lowbrow punt of a dinner, but they can hit the spot. And when they’re made like this, they become a different sort of animal altogether.
Category: Game
I’m still not done with charred scallions; a fat and unruly bunch still remains from my spring cleaning of the garden prior to the new load of compost being spread around for this year’s planting. I’m going to plant twice as many this fall, and leave them unprotected and neglected all winter just so I can have even more next spring to char and chew and enjoy while I mutter insults about all the wimpy vegetables that can’t endure the intemperate hardships of our climate and still make for such sweet eating come the thaw.
We invited some friends over for New Year’s Eve dinner, and I was setting forth to procure something celebratory when I bumped into my neighbor getting his mail. “Hey, I’ve got something for you,” he said. We had given them assorted homemade things (ketchup, salsa, jelly, etc.) and he wanted to reciprocate, so he led me to his freezer, from which he pulled out neatly wrapped and labeled white paper packets of frozen venison and bear meat. He had had an excellent hunting season, unlike the previous year when he got nothing. And thus was my search for exotic vittles complete before I even got in the car.
The return trip went smoothly, though it took longer than I would have liked. It was particularly galling to fly right over my home town–I even saw my house, since we were descending into Newark and roofs were visible–since if I could have jumped out there and parachuted down it would have saved me four hours of flying, customs, and then driving back up. Notwithstanding the time, it still amazes me that one can travel so far so fast. I love it. And even though my ten days in France were full of fun and flavor, it was very nice to get home.
Château de la Grangerie was built in the twelfth century as a monastery. Today, three generations of the Langalerie family make Armagnac, Floc de Gascogne (Armagnac diluted with the unfermented grape juice that all such brandy begins as), and the prunes for which the region around Agen is rightly renowned. We swung by for a visit, since Kate loves their Floc and the site is beautiful.
The other night I remembered the venison our neighbor had given us just before Christmas. He’s a bow hunter, and did well this year, so we got two nice bundles of meat. I defrosted one of them, and knew exactly what I wanted to do with it: gyros.
I was going to sit on this for a bit and include it in a later post for the Charcutepalooza stuffing project, but since the Very Serious Media have allowed themselves to be punk’d for like the nineteenth time by Andrew Breitbart and are now running ball-to-ball wall-to-wall Weinergate coverage, now seemed like an opportune time to wade in, sausage in hand, with a phallic-themed post.
The blackcurrant vinegar took six months to fully ferment. Today I bottled it; with some evaporation, what started as a half gallon ended up just filling two 20-ounce former soy sauce bottles (I left a little in the jar to give a head start to the next half gallon, which I poured right in). After tasting it, admiring the bottles, and reminding myself to make labels for them–it’s a pity that there’s no F in either word, because I had a hankering for some ye olde maple fyrup type font–it came time to figure out what to do with it.
Winter break found us in Vermont, where the weather cooperated wonderfully; after some fluffy flurries, the sky cleared and the mercury surged. Traveling farther North this time of year may sound counterintuitive, even masochistic, but the rewards were many. Bright sun and above-freezing air made for wonderful cross-country skiing through the silent woods, on the frozen brook, and around the meadow. A bracing breeze offered a perfect balance to the warm sun, and the cloudless sky was a resplendent cerulean vault. There’s not much better medecine for late-winter malaise than being vigorously outside celebrating the season’s beauty and low-friction environment. And such exertions make for serious appetites.
We’re lucky enough to have a good venison farm in the area, so those of us who do not hunt have a source for deer meat. Next year may be the one in which I begin hunting, but for now I have to say I’m OK with the steps I’ve taken so far to curate my food sources. Venison is super-lean, flavorful, and, when cooked properly, offers an elegant alternative to beef.