Category Archives: Hunting For The Pot, Fishing For The Pan

Getting It Done! Hunters Were “Paleo” and “Field To Table” Long Before it Had a Catchy Name

Complete Fish and game Cookery of North America by Frances Macilquham

Complete Fish and Game Cookery of North America: A Compendium of Lore, History, and Cooking Methods Ancient and Modern, Encompassing All Varieties of Birds, Beasts, and Fishes as Well as every Regional Cuisine, from the Arctic to the Tropics. By Frances Macilquham.

Cowboy Medicine – A Hunter’s Brew For You

 

A Steaming Pot of Coffee on an Outdoor campfire on a Ridge Overlooking Elk Country During a Colorado Elk Hunt
Set On Down and Stay Awhile. Photograph by Frank Donofrio

COFFEE UP – BOYS, AND GIRLS!

 

I am often struck by the power of photographs, and the way they can transport us in time and space, sometimes backwards to a place of fond memories, sometimes forward in anticipation of future adventures. I found such a picture tacked to the bulletin board of our local feed store, and I thought I would share it with you.

Exactly why it caught my attention so dramatically I do not know, but it stopped me in my tracks as I reached for the exit door. I stepped closer, and as I did it drew me deeper and deeper into that perfect recorded moment of experience. Perhaps it reminded me of a past hunt, with the excited chatter of friends or family nearby. Maybe you, like me, can imagine elk in the background and  just out of view, hanging on the edge of the timber on their way to cover or feed.  I can feel the crispness of the air there, and smell the smoke in the swirling winds. I can smell and taste the coffee too!

This wonderful image was captured by Frank Donofrio of Glenwood Springs, Colorado. He calls it “Cowboy Medicine”, and he has been kind enough to let us reproduce it here. It is an unexpected comfort, and a gift for the eye of the restless soul.

Frank tells me that he snapped it a few years back, on a mid November elk hunt in the spectacular high country near Aspen. He says it was a cold, blustery day, and that in his hunter’s wanderings he happened to meet up with a woman in her later years and her middle-aged son. They told him that they had grown up nearby and were quite intimate with the country, having hunted it all of their lives. They were happy to share some of their hard won backcountry knowledge, and more.

The son offered to build a pot of coffee to help stave off the numbing chill, right there and right then. Frank gladly accepted. After all, the company was fine, and the view was pretty good too.

Apparently, the man liked coffee of the cowboy kind, brewed simple, black, and strong. The recipe is not complicated, but ask anyone in the know and they will tell you that it’s proper preparation is still a fine art, freely given, yet earned on a life of many trails.

Start with a healthy slug of water, freshly drawn from a sparkling mountain stream. Bring to a roaring boil over a fire of spruce and pine, and throw in a handful or three of coffee grounds as you back the hissing pot from the hottest part of the flames. Let it simmer down a bit, and then throw in a splash of water or two or maybe a fist-full of snow to cool it down. Take it from the fire and set it on the ground awhile to let the grounds settle, but not for too long.

It’s always best served piping hot, and there is something to be said for a dose of grounds in the mix. The old cowboys used to say that you could tell when it was right when you could stand up a spoon in it. It’s about texture too, and if you look real hard you can see them there, squinting past weathered brows while chewing on their coffee behind big handlebar mustaches. Or at least I would like to think so.

Now kick back and wrap your hands around a steaming mug of mountain medicine for warmth and moral support. Enjoy the ride. Savor the moment. It’s the doing of it that counts and where you are that matters.

That place be elk country, and there is no finer location on terra firma to drink a’ cup a’ Joe.

I wish to be somewhere just like this next fall, god willing, squatting behind a cowboy fire on a rugged ridge of the Rocky Mountains. There may even be some horses close by, nickering and pawing in the soft white powder.

We’ll keep an extra tin cup in the outfit, just for you. Hope to see you there!

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*I have always heard references to the fact that the old-time ranch cooks would not think of forgetting to add a raw egg or some egg shells to a pot of their boiling brew. It turns out that this is true, as the egg or eggshell attracts sediment like a magnet and makes for a cleaner presentation.

Well, I have tried adding the eggshell, and it does work. For now I’ll withhold judgement as to whether this makes a difference in the taste, but it might. I haven’t tried the raw egg yet, but in the camps I generally inhabit a raw egg is a much too precious commodity to mix in my morning caffeine. But I don’t mind being wrong, and I shall try it sometime soon.

Of course if I do that will mean that I have shared another elk camp, and that would be more than fine.

I’ll be sure to let you know how it all works out.

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By Michael Patrick McCarty, Lover of Coffee and Elk Hunting.

You Might Also Like our posts Sportsmen’s Recipes and The Best, and Worst of Food

 

A Young Up and Coming Cowboy Discovers The Finer Things in Life - A Cup of Strong Black Coffee
Real Men Love Cowboy Coffee

Pronghorn In The Pan

 

A Photography Of A Buck Pronghorn Antelope Taken with Compound Bow On a Self Guided Bowhunt in Northwestern Colorado. Photograph by Michael Patrick McCarty, Publisher Through a Hunter's Eyes
Pronghorn for The Pan

 

The meat of the Pronghorn Antelope is a most precious commodity from my point of view, speaking as a hunter and a huge fan of all wild fish, game, and fowl. Yet, I think it safe to say that  the beast is not common table fare in most American households; in fact, I would venture to guess that very few people have ever tried it. That is a great loss to those so interested, as the animal affords one of the greatest epicurean opportunities of the west. It is my favorite of all wild meats, and there are many, many others like me.

It is understandable why so few have had the opportunity to give it a try, for it is a main ingredient not easily obtained. Pronghorn hunting permits are limited in one form or another in most of the western states, and acquiring a tag is often the most difficult part of an antelope hunt. It can take several years for the hunting gods to smile, but I can assure you that is it well worth the wait.

To my taste the flesh is fine-grained, sweeter, and more refined than most big game animals. Most venison or beef recipes will work to some degree, but it is after all, a bit different. It may take a little experimentation at first, but not too much. And as with all venison as a general rule, it is best to cook it leaning on the rare side.

To me a Pronghorn is the untamed and free-roaming veal of the western horizons, as there are some basic similarities and shared culinary characteristics. Treat it as you would prepare a nice cut of veal and you may be pleasantly surprised. A dish of Breaded Pronghorn Cutlet, or “Antelope Wiener Schnitzel”, might just do the trick.

As for spices, sometimes simple is best. If you like your entrees with a touch more complexity, then the usual candidates for veal and venison apply. But be sure to try one dish with sage as a special attraction. It is, after all, a creature of the sagebrush flats and the high deserts of the west.

Above all, enjoy your prize and savor the catch of the day. That is if you can get one to stand still long enough!

* Pronghorn has a nasty reputation as tasting overly gamey, at best, and inedible, at worst. Don’t believe it for a second. Well harvested, properly cared for in the field, and prepared in an attentive manner, antelope is hard to beat. Generally hunted in hot weather far from commercial processing facilities, heat spoilage and tainted meat is your worst enemy. The old-time hunters who really knew their meat used to say that quick cooled meat was of the sweetest kind.

Plan accordingly – dress, skin, and quarter as soon as possible and store on ice until you can refrigerate or freeze. You will be more than rewarded for your efforts, and you may find that you have acquired some new and famished friends in the bargain. It’s a fine deal, anyway you slice it.

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A FEW THOUGHTS ON PREPARATION

I am a proponent of offal, or organ meats – otherwise known as the heart, livers, kidneys, and assorted parts. Many hunters choose to leave these items behind, missing out on some truly great dining as a result.

Traditional venison recipes for the liver and kidneys work well here. As for the heart, I prefer mine cut in pieces, marinated, and splayed out on a very hot grill, finished medium rare. Be careful not to overcook it, as it will become extremely tough if you do.

Be extra sure to recover the tenderloins, which sit directly under the backbone and can be tricky to find. They are quite small but highly desirable, and many hunters have simply forgotten to cut them out. I’ve done it myself a time or two, much to my chagrin.

Tenderloin can be best cooked simply, and I like to celebrate success with a heavy black skillet and some salt and pepper. After a long day or more on the hunt, there is nothing like a simple feast to finish off the fun.

As for the rest – you’ve only just begun. Chops, roast, or stew, it’s all great any way you cook it.

Bon Appetit!

Have any favorite recipes you’d like to share? We’d love to hear about ’em….

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Food Freedom – and Guns Too!

 

Michael Patrick McCarty

 

You Might Also Like Sportsman’s Recipes

 

*We are big fans of cast iron cooking for all things outdoors, and we can recommend:

 

Black Canyon Wing and Clay

“Soak it up, go into it softly and thoughtfully, with love and understanding, for another year must pass before you can come this way again”.

Gene Hill, Wingshooter’s Autumn, 1986

 

October 2015

Recently, I was honored to be an invited guest of a member of Black Canyon Wing and Clay in Delta, Colorado.

The use of their hunter friendly facilities and their gracious hospitality will be forever appreciated. And thank god for good friends too.

Give them a call if you are looking for a well-managed shooting property and a fine place to train your dogs or spend a stress free afternoon in a field of upland birds. And oh by the way, a round of wobble trap shooting is a whole bunch of good time (if you hit them).

Here’s a small look at some of the fun, and a couple of game recipes too.

A hunter, Michael McCarty, poses with a shotgun and a ring-necked at Black Canyon Wing and Clay Shooting Resort in Delta, Colorado. A great place to shoot trap and enjoy a hunting shooting reserve
Who Could Ever Tire of Pheasant in the Hand

 

Hunter’s “Go To” Pheasant Marinade

  • 1/2 cup olive oil
  • 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
  • 3 tablespoons soy sauce
  • 1 teaspoon garlic powder
  • juice from one lemon

This should be enough marinade for about 4 pheasant breasts and 8 legs. If not, adjust amount of marinade to the amount of meat (It is not necessary to completely immerse it). Marinade in covered dish in refrigerator. Best cooked on a hot grill. Don’t over cook.

*This is a fairly powerful marinade, so shorter marinade times of 20 minutes to 2 hours are best.

**It is difficult not to overdo it with this simple marinade. It’s that good! This works equally well on many kinds of wild game. Give it a try on some prime elk steaks and you won’t regret it.

A upland game bird hunter shoots some wobble trap at Black Canyon wing and Clay in Delta, Colorado. Trap shooting is a great way to practice your shotgunning skills for upland birds
Time To Check The Eye
An upland game hunter poses with a Rooster Pheasant at black Canyon Wing and Clay in delta, Colorado
Pheasants Always Make You Smile
skeeze / Pixabay
Logo found on a pickup truck for the Black Canyon Wing and Clay in Delta, colorado. A colorado shooting and hunting preserve reserve
Where The Action Is!

“Now you know your first big cock pheasant is a sight to see. There maybe ain’t nothing as dramatic, whether it’s an elephant or a polar bear. A cock pheasant is like a mallard duck. Maybe the pintail or the canvasback is better to eat, but there is nothing in the flying department as wonderfully gaudy as a cock pheasant of a he-mallard. Well, maybe a peacock, but we have so few peacocks around our neck of the woods”. – Robert Ruark

Read More About Black Canyon Here.

CHUKHAR WITH SHALLOTS

  • 1/2 stick butter
  • 4 chukhar
  • 1 pound shallots, peeled and sliced
  • 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
  • 2 cups chicken broth
  • 4 sprigs fresh thyme

Brown the birds in 1/2 of the butter and salt and pepper to taste. Set Aside. Add the shallots, and cook until soft. Set shallots aside. Melt the remaining butter and add flour; stir for two minutes. Add broth, return the shallots, chukhars, and thyme. Cover and cook until tender (about 15 or 20 minutes).

At Mesa's Edge by Eugenia Bone. A celebration of the food from Colorado's North Fork Valley of the Gunnison
Bring On The Chukhars, and the Pheasants Too!

*This recipe was taken from At Mesa’s Edge: Cooking and Ranching in Colorado’s North fork Valley by Eugenia Bone. It provides great insight into the Gunnison Country and the unique pleasures of this area.

You May Also Like Our Thoughts On  Pheasant Hunting HERE, and a recipe for pheasant burritos that we love.

By Michael Patrick McCarty

And, You Might Also Read Our Post About Trophy Pike Fishing at Manitoba’s Silsby Lake Lodge

https://steemit.com/hunting/@huntbook/sporting-destinations-black-canyon-wing-and-clay

Pronghorn Jerky With Raisins and Madeira

Pronghorn Antelope

Incoming! Jerky On The Hoof

 

INGREDIENTS

  • 3-4 pound rump roast or similar cut
  • 3/4 cup Worcestershire Sauce
  • 3/4 cup Soy Sauce
  • 1 cup raisins
  • 3/4  cup Good Madeira
  • 1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
  • 1 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 Tbsp Salt

DIRECTIONS

Cut meat into 1/4″ strips. Place remaining ingredients into blender and mix well. Then pour mixture over meat and refrigerate for at least 48 hours. Dehydrate for 8-10 hours, or until done.

Pairs nicely with the remaining Madeira, but then again, that’s the general idea.

Enjoy!

– Bear in mind that this jerky does not call for any type of added preservative. Refrigeration, or freezing,  is best for long-term storage.

Recipe by Michael Patrick McCarty

Pigeon Jerky

Most people don’t think of making jerky out of this common and often underrated bird, so good pigeon jerky recipes are scarce as hen’s teeth. Either that, or our fanatic pigeon shooting friends are holding them quite close to the vest.

We’ve been experimenting a bit with pigeon jerky and we have a few ideas. Many beef jerky marinades seem to work fairly well. Duck or goose jerky recipes can be adapted too. We’d love to hear about some of your favorite creations.

Soy and Ginger Pigeon Jerky

  • 6 pigeon breasts
  • 1 cup soy sauce
  • 1/2 cup maple syrup
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 1 teaspoon fresh grated ginger
  • 1 pinch cayenne pepper

Pound and flatten pigeon breasts in an effort to make them as uniform as possible, then cut into thin strips about 1/4″ thick. Combine the rest of the ingredients in a mixing bowl and add the breast meat. Marinade for 4 to 12 hours in refrigerator, then dehydrate for about 8 hours at 155 degrees. It is done when it cracks easily when bent.

Serve with some creamy goat cheese of your choice on a good artisan cracker and a glass of good Port to wash it down. Guaranteed to stump the crowd, because almost no one can guess it’s origin. They will, however, want more.

Meditations / Pixabay

 

Mountain Goat Sausage – It’s What’s For Breakfast!

“And then to breakfast  with what appetite you have”.

Shakespeare, Henry VIII

 

Cooking In A Skillet Over A Hot Campfire
StockSnap / Pixabay
PublicDomainPictures / Pixabay

 

Grinding Wild Game Meat At Home With Food Grinder
Homemade Sausage and Burgers Are The Best   Sausage making is more art than science, and it is really a matter of personal taste in the end. Creativity is king, and it’s fun too.

I like patty sausage, so here is one bulk sausage recipe that you may enjoy:

Hot Italian Mountain Goat Sausage

  • 5 pounds ground shoulder or cut of your choice
  • 2 Tbsp Salt
  • 8 tsp Fennel Seed
  • 8 gloves Garlic, finely chopped
  • 4 tsp Oregano
  • 5 tsp Crushed Red Pepper
  • 1 1/4 tsp Coriander
  • 1 tsp Black Pepper
  • 1 Tbsp Paprika
  • 1 1/4 tsp Caraway

Mix very well. Form into patties and fry in the cooking oil of your choice.

*You may also wish to substitute 1 pound of ground pork butt for 1 pound of goat, which seems to go together quite well and does add some flavor.

**This recipe also works well with elk, mule deer, and pronghorn antelope. I have tried them all, and to my added surprise, I believe I like the mountain goat the best.

It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it!

A Close-up Photo of A Rocky Mountain Goat on a Cliff
The White Spirit of The Mountains

May the goat be with you!

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Posted by Michael Patrick McCarty

You Might Also Like First Impressions

It Was the Best of Food, It Was the Worst of Food

Close-up photo of a Brown Bear Track in Comparison to the Size of a Human Hand
A Good Reason To Look Over Your Shoulder
Close-up Photo of Cottontail Rabbit Running
Full Charge!

 

The best meal I ever ate, anywhere, featured cottontail rabbit fried hot in an electric skillet, hunted up fresh from the fields within sight of the big picture window of my friend’s southern New Jersey family homestead.

I had eaten many a rabbit by the time I had nearly finished highschool. Cottontails were our sportsman’s consolation prize. They were everywhere in our neck of the woods, and we could always count on bagging a brace or two when we could not find a covey of bobwhite quail or other small game.

But the rabbit of my experience had never tasted like a lesser prize. My friend’s mom knew her way around the kitchen, and she knew exactly what to do with farm fresh ingredients, be they wild, or not. She was, in fact, a culinary wizard, conjured up to look like an ordinary woman.

What she did I suppose I will never really know, but I suspect it had something to do with buttermilk, flour, a perfectly matched selection of spices, and hot lard. The meat hit the pan with crackle and sizzle, and it spoke of blackberry leaves and sweet clover and sun dappled woodlots.

It literally melted in your mouth, and I remember watching as a heaping plate of rabbit pieces disappeared into smiling faces around the long farm table. It was ordinary fare, dressed in high style, and I was the honored guest of their simple realm. I knew then that I would never forget that wonderful dinner, and I have never looked at the unsung cottontail in the same way since.

A long farm table setting for a large group
Farm Table Magic About To Happen

Contrast that with the worst meal I ever had, which I had the displeasure of ingesting in a windswept Quebec-Labrador Caribou camp north of Schefferville, somewhere below the arctic circle.

It was a vile concoction of rancid grease, pan drippings, and rendered fat, and we ate it with a big metal spoon of questionable cleanliness. My native guide kept it stored in a good-sized mason jar, and he carried it around like it was the holy grail of gourmet cuisine. He ate it while sporting a huge grin, and I tried it because he wanted me too, and because he acted like it was so damn tasty. Who knew?

It seems that many people in the far north country can develop a bad case of “fat hunger”, as a result of their super lean, high protein diets. This affliction is also called “rabbit starvation”, having been given its name by those unfortunate souls who at one time or another subsisted solely on rabbits.

A hefty jar of partially congealed fat can be a highly prized commodity in that world, where calories count, and the lack thereof can literally mean the difference between life and death.

One throat gagging spoonful was quite enough for me, followed by an old candy bar of some kind to dull the taste, and washed down with some lukewarm canteen water. To this day, the occasional thought of that wretched goo turns my stomach inside out, now almost 40 years later. It definitely gives one some perspective on the otherwise fine cuisine of Canada.

With that in mind, an honorable mention must go to the partially raw and burnt slices of elk heart I skewered over an aspen fire one clear, brisk night in the Colorado back country.

I should have been more than happy that lonely, star filled night. I had taken a fat four point bull elk with my recurve bow just hours before, and I was headed back to my friend’s small hunting shack when I ran out of daylight, and flashlight batteries.

I took a breath snatching fall from a low cliff, and by all rights I should have hurt myself badly, but did not. So, I gathered up some branches and hunkered down for the night, and thanked my guardian hunting angel. The animal’s heart and liver was all that I had packed with me.

It wasn’t so bad, after all, if you enjoy rubbery, half-cooked offal, but it could have used some salt. And it would have been far better if I had some water, which I had run out of during the hot afternoon. The head pounding hangover left over from the previous night’s shenanigans was still with me, which did not help my predicament.

In my defense, let the record state that it was the weekend of my bachelor party, and it is fair to say that the boys’ and I had just a little “too much fun”. I had been the only one to stagger out of camp that early morning, and only then because I had somehow managed to pass out in my hunting cloths, with boots on. One downhill step, and I was on my way.

My head and parched throat told me that I was in for a rough night, but my heart said that there were far worse places to be than in the abiding lap of the Rocky Mountains, with elk bugling all around, even if the meal was merely marginal. It’s how memories are made, and I would not trade them now for all the world. We laugh about it still.

The supper I am most grateful for consisted of one big can of yellow cling peaches, packed in heavy syrup. I ate them while huddled in a sleeping bag, in the low light of a small gas lamp. I did so from a short bunk in the cabin of a small crab boat, anchored just off the beach somewhere in Prince William Sound, Alaska.

My guide and I had spent the day above timberline hunting mountain goats and glassing for coastal brown bear, and we had been late getting back to our pick up point. Loaded with the heavy hide and meat of a white-robed goat, we struggled down through the rocks and heavy underbrush in a race to beat the faltering late night sun. We didn’t make it.

Left with no easy choices, we made our way to a gurgling stream in the bottom of a canyon, and waded in. We thrashed and slipped and bullied our way down through knee-deep water for more than a few miles, while desperately trying to keep our feet under us.  It was a truly dark and soul-searching night, made far worse by the occasional loud crashes of large, big things, just out of sight. These things most probably had huge tearing teeth and long, flesh ripping claws to go with them. It was not a pretty picture, and I am not proud of the terrified thoughts and hobgoblins which danced and screamed inside my head and nearly got the better of me.

I have never been so happy to break clear of thick brush, and to see a low slung skiff waiting hopefully on an open cove in the light of a wispy moon. My father could barely speak, relieved from his duty of pacing the shoreline and imagining the worst. Once on board the main boat, and safe, I had enough energy to slurp down those aforementioned peaches that had appeared under my nose, to then lie back and fall instantly asleep.

A can of peaches is certainly not much of a meal, but it was heavenly sustenance to me. It was much better than the alternative, which most importantly meant that I had not become the hot and ready to eat snack of a snarling 10 foot beast. Thank god for life’s little graces.

Last but not least, I savored my most memorable meal on the day after my wedding in the high mountains of Colorado. We spent a pampered night or two in Aspen’s only five-star hotel, and dined in its’ fine restaurant.

The company and the conversation was grand, to say the least, as was the atmosphere, and the setting. The hotel has a grand view of the area’s towering, snow-covered peaks, and sits within close proximity of summering herds of elk, and the occasional black bear. It was a most appropriate location from which to approach a colorful plate of elk tenderloin with sun-dried cherry sauce and sweet potato fries, duly crafted by the expert hands’ of one of the world’s greatest chefs. I can only describe the entire experience, as well, absurdly, …grand…

Now that was a preparation for the ages; a far cry from a flame scorched elk heart to be sure, and almost as good as that lovingly tendered rabbit dinner of my youth.

So, these are some of my food highs, and lows, in the proverbial nutshell.

No doubt you have several of your own. If you do, we’d love to hear about them.

Care to share?

 

A close-up photo of canned peaches in a mason jar
Canned Peaches – Nectar of The God’s

 

You may also wish to see the recipe for grilled elk loin and cherry sauce here.

skeeze / Pixabay

Posted By Michael Patrick McCarty

https://steemit.com/life/@huntbook/it-was-the-best-of-food-it-was-the-worst-of-food-of-an-outdoor-life

A Pheasantful of Memories

A ring-necked pheasant, in all it's colors of glory.
JanTemmel / Pixabay

Where would we be as outdoorsmen, and as human beings, if not for the people in our lives who took us hunting?

It is a question not so easily answered, though at least we get to ask it. Sadly, a steadily increasingly group of young people never get that chance. In most cases I can only grieve for the loss that they will never fully understand, while staring upward and thanking the heavens for the sportsmen of my youth.

It was only a natural way to be in the world in which I grew up. My father had been a hunter all of his life, and his father was too. To be true so were my uncles and cousins, my brothers, friends, and our neighbors. There was always someone to go hunting with and a shotgun was never far out of hand.

We hunted small game and deer and birds of all kinds, but pheasants – pheasants were a special creature. There were not many to be found in our corner of the uplands, and those that remained were wary and smarter than smart. It was a big event to bag a hefty, redheaded cockbird.

If you are like me then there is no doubt that you remember your first cackling rooster rising like a shimmering phoenix in the sky. The memory of that long-tailed vision burns brightly in the mind, ready for access at a moment’s notice. Mine is a mind full of ring-necks.

I hold my treasure trove of remembrances most dearly, yet it occurs to me that It is only right to return the favor. I am more than willing to share that long list of images in my head, though I would be most happy to help you gain your own.

One thing can be said.

Take a boy, or a girl, hunting – today. It is a responsibility and an honor, and in fact a debt that must be repaid.

We can only be as strong as the sum total of our experience, and I cannot comprehend a life barely lived without the solid grounds of woods and field beneath the boots. The pursuit of wild things is a foundational activity, built upon the realities of the natural world and the spirit of the quickening heart. It is an opportunity to learn some core moral values, while becoming part of something much larger than one’s self.

We owe it to our mentors to carry the torch; to help ignite that undying spark in the imagination and energy of the next generation. I can think of no greater reward than to be remembered fondly in the thoughts of the grateful and fortunate soul of a hunter.

It is only but a moment of memory, and a towering pheasant, away.

A rising ring-necked pheasant towers toward the sky

Michael Patrick McCarty

You Might Also Like How It Ought To Be and The Gift

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“If Christmas came on the Fourth of July and it also happened to be your birthday, you might have some idea of what a first pheasant is like on a clear, crisp Maryland day, with the hills behind, and the tender-green meadows reaching out to black-green blotches of trees, and nothing very much to do but watch a couple of expert dogs work over the noblest Oriental stranger we have in our midst, while two mellowed old gentlemen do not interfere with a boy’s passionate effort. They were not shooting; they had been there before. It took me another thirty years to find out how much fun you have not shooting if there is somebody else around who wants to shoot it more than you do”.

-From The Old Man and The Boy by Robert Ruark

A hunter and a young boy hunt upland game

See our other favorite Robert Ruark Quote at the bottom of our post Here

*We generally have for sale some collectable copies of Ruark’s books. Please email for more information.

Read More About Black Canyon Wing and Clay HERE, and a recipe for marinade.

Shotguns, young gunner’s, and Pheasants Forever!


Wondering what do to next with your bird? Try This:

Pheasant Burritos

  • 2 pheasants (cut into pieces)
  • 4 cups chicken broth
  • 1 cup fig, plum, or apricot jam
  • 1/4 cup sun-dried tomatoes, soaked in a little water until soft, then chopped
  • 1/4 cup soy sauce
  • 1/4 cup dry red wine
  • 2 dried ancho chiles, with stems and seeds removed and then ground
  • 2 minced garlic gloves
  • 2 sprigs fresh thyme
  • salt & pepper to taste
  • 8 large flour tortillas

Brown pheasant pieces on both sides in broiler or hot skillet. Boil remaining ingredients(tortillas excluded) in a covered sauce pan. Add the pheasant and cook on low heat for 30 minutes or until done. Let cool, then pull the meat from the bones and set aside. Stain the sauce and return to heat. Reduce over medium heat by about 1/3. salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with warm tortillas, topped with pheasant meat and sauce.

Enjoy with your favorite extras and wine, then prepare to get ready for your next pheasant hunt.

*This recipe taken from At Mesa’s Edge: Cooking and Ranching in Colorado’s North Fork Valley by Eugenia Bone.

It’s a lovely read about life in this unique area of northwestern Colorado, with some wonderful recipes using the area’s plentiful bounty. It includes some wild game recipes too.

We have some copies for sale if so interested.

the front cover of At Meas's Edge: Cooking and Ranching in Colorado's North Fork Valley by Eugenia Bone with some pheasant and wild game recipes
Eating What You Catch

Wild Rice: The Gourmet Grain

From The Song of Hiawatha

 

Unmolested worked the women,

Made their sugar from the maple

Gathered wild rice in the meadows…

Then Nokomis the old woman

Spoke and said to Minnehaha:

‘Tis the moon when leaves are falling

All the wild rice has been gathered…

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

BASIC COOKING DIRECTIONS

Cooking up a perfect pot of rice seems easy enough, but it is in fact a fine and gentle culinary art. Wild Rice can be particularly challenging, and our best efforts are not always fully rewarded. With that being said, wild rice perfection is possible if you use some simple and basic techniques.

The goal, of course, is a light, palatable dish of distinct grains that is neither mushy nor chewy. A small attention to plan and detail will provide a completely satisfying “gourmet grain”.

Bon Appetit!

RINSE

Drop one cup of wild rice into a large pan, and scrub under cold running water for two or three minutes. Transfer the washed rice to a sieve and rinse well with tap water. Shake vigorously to remove excess liquid and let drain for about 10 minutes.

HEAT AND RINSE

Bring to boil two cups of salted water in a saucepan and stir in the drained rice. Simmer for five minutes, remove from heat, and pour into sieve. Wash in cold water for two or three minutes, shake, and let dry for ten minutes.

HEAT

Bring to boil 1 1/2 cups of chicken stock and add rice. Bring again to boil, then reduce heat to a low simmer. Cover saucepan and simmer for 15 minutes.

REST

Remove from heat and rest for a few minutes to let the moisture redistribute evenly throughout the dish.

A close-up of a bowl of cooked wild rice
A Gourmet Grass

 

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Posted by Michael Patrick McCarty

You Might Also Like Sportsman’s Recipes

A Taste of High Country Summer

A fisherman poses with a stringer full of brook trout, caught while flyfishing on a high mountain stream in colorado in the summer.
Brook Trout Put A Smile On Your Face. Photo Courtesy of Rocky Tschappat, Aspen, Colorado

 

Few things go as well together than brook trout and a clear mountain stream, unless of course it is a hot cast iron pan and some freshly caught fillets.

I am told that these beauties had perfect, firm flesh and that beautiful orange color of wild fish. Apparently, these brookies  never saw any wrapping paper either.

Makes my mouth water just thinking about it.

Thank God For Summer!

 

RECIPE FOR COLORADO COWBOY TROUT

  • 8 small trout
  • 3 apples, sliced thinly
  • 1 sliced onion
  • honey
  • 3 slices of precooked ham, chopped
  • cinnamon
  • salt
  • pepper
  • lemon

Stuff trout bodies with apple, onion, and ham. Drizzle some honey on stuffing; add lemon juice and season to taste. Seal in doubled-up heavy-duty foil and cover in hot campfire coals. Bake for about 30 minutes. Serves four.

Keep in mind that if you are making this recipe, you are definitely doing it in the right place and are probably in a fine state of mind.

Enjoy!

*Adapted from The All Trout Cookbook by Rick Taylor. It is a great trout cooking recipe book, and I highly recommend it if you can find a copy.

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Flyfishing The High Country by John Gierach.
It’s Definitely Worth the Walk

Flyfishing the High Country by John Gierach. With Chapters on the high lakes, beaver ponds, the high streams, tackle and flies, the Frying Pan River, and more.

We generally have copies of this in stock, as well as other John Gierach books. Please email for availability and price.

Hope To See You In The High Country Soon!

Posted by Michael Patrick McCarty

It’s Rainbow Trout For Dinner(s)

A fisherman poses with a fillet of a big trophy rainbow trout, before brining for the smoker
A Slab of a Slab!

 

You have a clue that it’s a big one when you can’t fit it into a selfie.

I don’t know about you, but this is the biggest trout fillet that I have ever seen. No doubt there is a bit of an optical illusion going on here, but then again, maybe not…

There will be more than a few meals out of this fish, either way. It was caught in Colorado, but I’m afraid that I would not have a friend for very long if I told you exactly where.

This one is heading for the smoker after a proper brine and soak. I can almost smell the swirling woodsmoke now, teasing the recesses of my epicurean memory. I remember too, just how much I love a fresh trout dinner.

Perhaps it’s time to grab a fishing pole…

 

A fisherman holds a trophy rainbow trout out in front of his body and takes a selfie
Too Heavy, In A Good Way!

 

A SIMPLE BRINE RECIPE WITH MAPLE AND GINGER

  • 8 cups water
  • 2 cups soy sauce
  • 1/2 cup maple syrup
  • 1/2 cup kosher salt
  • 1 1/2 cups brown sugar
  • 1 tbsp ginger
  • 1 1/2 tbsp granulated garlic

Mix well, and brine fish for 6-10 hours. This should be enough liquid to cover 8-10 pounds of fillets.

 

Posted by Michael Patrick McCarty