1 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme
To Marinate: 1. Combine the first seven ingredients in a bowl and let sit at room temperature for at least 1 hour.
To Braise: 1. In a heavy-bottomed skillet over medium heat, combine the olive oil and b.u.t.ter. Remove the meat from the wine, pat dry, and sprinkle with salt, pepper, and flour.
2. Place the rabbit legs and loins in the skillet and cook until well browned. Turn over and brown the other side. Transfer from the pan to a clean plate.
3. Add the vegetables from the marinade to the pan, and lightly caramelize in the same fat. Sprinkle with flour, stir, and cook for a few minutes. Add the tomato paste and cook for a few minutes more. Deglaze the pan with the vinegar and reserved marinade, sc.r.a.ping up the brown bits on the bottom of the pan, and reduce the liquid until the sauce is thick.
4. Return the meat to the skillet. Add the stock and bouquet garni, cover, and let simmer for about 1 hour, or until the meat is tender. Turn off the heat and add the preserved lemon, olives, and chopped herbs. Stir and let sit for 15 minutes before serving.
Also try: squirrel, turkey, upland game birds Note: To make a bouquet garni, tie in a piece of cheesecloth: 1 bay leaf, 1 sprig of fresh thyme, 1 sprig of fresh rosemary, and 1 small bunch of fresh parsley with stems.
We arose over ten thousand centuries ago from hunters who loped, with weapons in hand and animal flesh on their minds, across the yellow plains, and it may be every bit as long before the need to hunt is in any way quenched within us. When, and if, it ever is, it will probably mean that for better or worse we are no longer human but have become something quite different.
-THOMAS MCINTYRE
Epilogue.
To me, the great mystery of the human species is how we got to where we are-how we came out of the trees, stood on just two feet, and ended up on the trading floors of Lehman Brothers-how we got "so smart."
I believe the answer is that we joined the Great Forage-we partic.i.p.ated in the delicate dance between predator and prey, which forced us to develop complex thinking, to premeditate, to strategize, and to know to share our prey with others for social and personal advantage. There have been scientific tomes written that support all of this. But I am not an archaeologist or sociologist. Instead I am a girl who has been sharpening her human instincts and discovered in the process how satisfying, how natural, and how inspiring it is to play an active role in my omnivorous life. For me, it is tapping into that natural human instinct for which we-as animals, too-are genetically hardwired.
There is an intense debate as to when exactly we became true omnivores, but it makes sense that we began by scavenging dead animals. It allowed us to take in more calories compared to the number of calories we expended to find the food. Our climbing ability grew as a way to steal kills stashed in trees by leopards, as did our ability to run fast. We had to know when our prey-and our compet.i.tors-slept, grazed, watered, changed locations, mated, and bore young. It all required complex thinking, observation, and growing intelligence as we learned to imitate and outwit the other lethal species. And ultimately, we had to be able to fight these other meat eaters. This required us to develop tools and weapons and plans to defend ourselves. Today still, the very act of being alive by definition requires us to also know how to survive or perish. But hunting and gathering taught us more than survival-it taught us that by bringing food back to the tribe, by feeding the community and the women especially who were then more fertile, our position in the world was elevated. Hunting and gathering not only taught us how to stay alive, it was the act that made us more human.
Where I am writing now, on a screened-in porch beside the crescent-shaped lake in the place they call the Village, I have never felt more human. It is dusk. The smell of barbecue is in the air, intermingled with the inimitable smell of old cigars and new whiskey. The weather is shifting-I hear the drips of water, the t.i.ttering of wrens; I see the melting, the fiddleheads beginning to peer above the brown leaves, their fronds tucked in like great green question marks over what is to come.
I am entirely different than the girl who came here four years ago to learn how to hunt a turkey. There are the obvious differences, such as the fact that I can shoot a deer through the heart without batting an eye, then promptly take out the innards on the forest floor with only a pocketknife and my bare hands to help me. I can skin it with the pocketknife, too, then run the knife along the contours of the muscle until it is broken down into manageable parts. Then, if I want to, I can portion the meat into those elegant pieces we see neatly wrapped up in plastic in the grocery store meat section, with no signs that it was ever a living thing. Except that for me, that will never be the case again. I will always know. I will have looked my food in the eye and made a choice; I will have felt the warm innards in my hands as I pulled them out and laid them on the forest floor for the coyotes and the mountain lions to eat.
It was a struggle to get here, mostly a mental struggle. It required a slap on the a.s.s and a horseback-riding escapade with a poacher. It required humility, frustration, hundreds of skeptical looks, and waking up in the dark for most of the fall and winter months-all in the name of sausage, venison meat loaf, and whiskey-glazed turkey breast. It required run-ins with airport security that wanted to know why there were frozen animal parts in my suitcase, and with border patrol dogs sniffing my car wildly where the edges of Texas meet Mexico.
It was all amazing. Even the so-called b.l.o.o.d.y bits.
It was more amazing than the irreplaceable meals, the incomparable vistas, the fine cigars and scotch, the almond cakes and gourmet chocolates, because now I am more awake than I ever was when working in fast-paced four-star kitchens, or on a high-pitched trading floor. It is as if I have realized again those first pleasures I knew sitting beside my creek in the Hudson Valley, watching the orange fishing bobbin float by under the willow tree. I am a more thoughtful eater, a more thoughtful chef, and a more awake human being. I am a fuller woman and in a way, I am much more like Diana than I ever was . . . there are even days, stepping out into the morning, when I think perhaps that I could rule the forest and the moon.
Of course, many wild, edible foods are missing from this book. This was my journey, shared for the sole purpose of inspiring you to have your own. May you find a place where you can hear the foghorn on the river at night, or where you can hear the woods wake up at dawn. Most of all, may you find a place where you can discover what it is to feel the omnivore genes in you stir with the distinct vibration that makes us really human. Whatever your journey, wherever you find it, may it be a wild one.
Acknowledgments.
There are days as a writer when time pa.s.ses differently in the blur of travel and note-taking. When my mind gets entangled with the work there are people who have to put up with it all, who intervene on my behalf and recognize when my "fearlessness" has gone a bit too far. Without them this book would not exist. Without their support, I would probably be lost in the desert of Wyoming. Being "fearless" often requires a lot of help.
To T. Kristian Russell there aren"t enough words to thank you for guiding me every millimeter of the way. You were there when I blurted out this little idea and you made it happen as much as I did. Thank you to my brother, Gordon, for giving me editorial, creative, and life perspective in equal doses. Thank you to Roger Pellegrini for teaching me to fish and love the outdoors, and for suggesting years ago that I join the ranks of women hunters; and Maureen Pellegrini for instilling in me a respect for all living things.
To my editor, Renee Sedliar, thank you for "getting" Girl Hunter from the beginning, and for your intuition and depth. You are by far my favorite vegetarian! Thank you to the rest of the team at Da Capo for being so flexible and receptive to my vision, and to Brettne Bloom, my agent, for bringing us together.
Thank you, Janie Fransson, for giving me a much-needed fresh perspective and invaluable advice. You were that burst of energy I needed to push me over the finish line; and Abigail Cleaves for being a continual connector and cheerleader.
I also had research a.s.sistants who helped me in various stages along the way, from recipe testing to sanity checking, Julia Becker, Athena Gee, Rachel Wegman, and Abigail Hansen were immensely helpful.
Thank you to the late Thomas Russell for the praise and support as I read you rough drafts up until the very end, and to Jimmy and Deborah Russell, Sarah Perkins, and Heather Herrington for continuing it always.
For the friendship and the wild game to finish my recipes, thank you to: Paul and Debbie Michael, Freddie Black, Mike Pappas, Worth Williams, Faith McCormick, Solonje Burnett, Kelsey Contreras, Spencer Kehe, Tamara Mendelsohn, and Emily Goldman. For being my masterful recipe-testing a.s.sistant: Courtney McLeod.
And of course, thank you to those in this book, for their true generosity, the valuable life lessons, and the wild ride.
Gravy Stocks, Marinades, Brines, Rubs & Sauces Stocks Stocks are a great base for many wild game dishes. They also lend great flavor when used in the place of water for rice and grains. It is best not to season stock until you are ready to use it in a dish, as each dish will have different needs. It is also useful to freeze stock in small portions in resealable bags or in ice cube trays; this way you can use small amounts as needed and don"t have to wait for a large batch to defrost. Stock is also very forgiving and provides you with a chance to flavor with whatever you have on hand. This means that if you have chicken bones instead of pheasant bones, beef bones instead of venison bones, or pork bones instead of feral hog bones, they will all work within these recipes. Even a simple vegetable stock will work. The whole purpose of stock is not to limit you, but to give you the opportunity to make use of the sc.r.a.ps you have on hand. Because of this, your yields will also vary based on your ingredients and heat level.
Game Bird Stock
Makes 4 to 6 cups 15 dove carca.s.ses, or equivalent in other game bird carca.s.ses
2 tablespoons grape seed oil
1 cup white wine
2 cups chopped celery, with leaves
1 cup peeled and chopped carrots
1 cup chopped onion
1 cup washed and chopped leeks
1. Over high heat, brown the carca.s.ses in the oil in a large pot. Add the vegetables and brown. Pour off any grease, deglaze the caramelized brown bits at the bottom of the pot with the white wine, then cover the carca.s.ses and vegetables with water.
2. Bring to a boil and lower the heat to a simmer. Skim off any foam that forms on the surface.
3. Simmer for 4 hours, or until the liquid is full flavored. Strain and store.
Duck Stock
Makes about 8 cups 2 duck carca.s.ses, plus any necks
4 tablespoons grape seed oil
5 shallots, roughly chopped
4 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
2 celery stalks, chopped
2 pieces orange zest
2 pieces lemon zest
2 pieces grapefruit zest
1 bay leaf