Author Writes Book on Cooking Wild in Missouri | KOMU.com | Columbia, MO |

Author Writes Book on Cooking Wild in Missouri KOMU.com Columbia, MO

Be very, very, quiet... we're hunting rabbits

When we first started this Woods To Food project, I thought that getting many of various ingredients would be challenging, but at least squirrels and rabbits would be easy. The close of rabbit season is now about a week away, and I’m three rabbits shy.

The first rabbit wasn’t taken by me, but I think it still counts. My Dad took it away from a Red Tailed Hawk. Now lest he gets issued a citation for practicing falconry without a permit, I should explain. Dad was harvesting milo last November (in rabbit season, I might add), and a hawk that you could call either enterprising or lazy was watching him do it. When the giant John Deere combine harvester jumped up the little bunny and sent it running down the field, the hawk swooped down and nailed him. Dad stopped the combine and shooed the hawk away, and collected the rabbit. So don’t feel bad about my Dad stealing the hawk's dinner. By stopping the combine he actually saved the hawk’s life and kept the grain hopper free of messy feathers.

I was at the grain truck on the other end of the field, and Dad gave me the rabbit when he stopped to unload. I cleaned it, and we have it ready to go. We won’t have to worry about biting into any lead shot in this one.

But each of the two recipes in Cooking Wild in Missouri call for two rabbits, and we only have this one. The boys and I took a little walk out at Three Creeks Conservation Area looking for rabbits when the TV crew was with us, but it was cold that day, and we had a lot going on, so we didn’t give it a fair shot.

Our other attempt was last Saturday. My cousin who has a farm north of town (and a great blog www.waitingforthoreau.com) agreed to let us give her place a try, but added that neither her or her husband had seen any rabbits this year. They had a lot two years ago, but none now. They attributed this to a dense population of coyotes they hear calling nearby nightly.

But we didn’t have many other options, so despite the negative outlook on our prospects we gave it a try. I soon noted that my hunting party was infected with a pervasive lack of resolve. They were all with me, but Oliver said he didn’t feel good, so Ann went back to the truck with him not long after we started. Henry soldiered on with me, but I could tell that he wasn’t into it, because he wasn’t able to keep up. He had been at a friend’s birthday party the night before, and stayed up about four hours past his regular bedtime. With fatigue causing him to drag his feet, I soon threw in the towel as well and we headed back.

We returned to the truck to find Oliver and Ann out cold in the back, napping in the sun. My total hunt time was less than 45 minutes, so I’m not sure I can even count that as trying. On the way back to town I decided to take Oliver’s complaints about not feeling good seriously and took him to see a doctor. By the time we got checked in his temperature was 102.5, and he tested positive for strep throat, so I’ll give him a pass for early exit from this hunt.

It was a beautiful morning, but it retrospect I probably should have taken a blanket back to Cosmo Lake and let everyone nap in the sun while I gave trout fishing another go. But now I just need to decide how to play our last weekend of rabbit season coming up this weekend.

Woods to Food to KOMU

Well, remember how we mentioned that a film crew came to interview us on our Woods to Food project? It's going to air on Monday, tomorrow, at 11 am and at 10 pm on KOMU channel 8 news. The segment is called Sarah's Stories.

COMO Trout, Take 2

The problem with fishing in a popular spot is that it strips you of your excuses. When you’re flanked by dozens of anglers to your left and right, there is likely to be some good fishermen among them. Those outliers prove to the rest of us that the fish can be caught.

Had I been fishing alone on Wednesday or Thursday, I could have explained why I didn’t take home trout. The water temperature wasn’t quite right, so the trout weren’t feeding. The wind was wrong, and by the time we got there after school it was the wrong time of day.

After getting skunked on day one, I was more confident going into day two. I could really picture the boys and I catching fish. We’d caught plenty of fish before - this was nothing new for us. The first day was just practice really. Now we were ready. The weather was once again unbelievably good for February. Ann had been away at a Conference this week, and she was going to come home Friday to a fridge full of fish.

It didn’t take long after arriving at a lake on Thursday for my confidence to begin to wane. It started to go in the process of rigging the lines, baiting the hooks and making the first casts. A while later, after I had to cut Henry’s line from the tree that is on the bank behind him, and I had to retrieve Oliver’s rod and reel from the lake, where he’d thrown it during a cast attempt, I exchanged the last remnants of my confidence for dogged determination. It was fortunate that we only had a couple hours of sunlight and I wasn’t prepared to fish in dark, or we might still be out there.

The lake was crowded on Thursday, but not as crowded on Wednesday. By my casual observation I would say fewer fish were being caught on Thursday, though I don’t know if this relates to the quality of the fishing conditions or the fishermen who were present. Someone right beside us caught two while we were there, and we saw at least two people catch their limit of four.

It was a pleasant afternoon. A real bright spot was I was joined by Robert, my brother-in-arms from the previous post about the handgun range, his two boys, who are a couple my boys’ best buddies, and his daughter, who is a relative newcomer to the fishing scene. Although our collective effort didn’t result in more fish, it was more fun for everybody.

I only hope that I’m teaching my boys to fish, rather than teaching them to hate fishing. Henry loves trout, so the first day he was driven and dedicated. Halfway into the second day he was bored, and had lost all hope, even with someone a few feet away catching fish. The nearby playground was calling to Henry and Oliver both, as I compelled them to continue to dutifully man their stations on the lake shore. We’re going to have to get some trout to the kitchen soon, or the boys are going to decide that it is best just to wait for the farmer’s market trout lady to come back in the spring.  

Venison sausage frittata, page 34

frittata is a sizzling as it cooks

Do you know, I’ve heard of frittatas for years but don’t think I’ve ever either eaten or made one. I was looking forward to making this deer sausage frittata for that reason. But, then again I’m not deer sausage’s biggest fan, and cooking with it seems slightly less appetizing than eating it cold ‘as God intended’ so the recipe was conflicting to me. Also, on the not-so-excited-about-making-the-recipe side was the fact that I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be a favorite with the boys as they are a bit picky about the way they like their eggs. And, to top it off, we raise our own eggs and get not nearly as many in the winter as summer (we only have 3 chickens laying right now) so I’m a bit stingy when it comes to egg use this time of year. And, one more to-top-it-off point, we didn’t have any of our deer made into deer sausage so we were going to have to go a-beggin’ for some.

No wonder this is the last venison recipe in the book for us to try. Did you hear that? We just made the LAST VENISON RECIPE. That seems like some sort of milestone.

Finished product

Anyway, frittata, frittata, frittata. I like saying the name. The sausage we got from Fred’s coworker Christa who generously gave us a large piece to use (thanks Christa, if you are out there). This recipe has not only deer sausage, but quite a few greens (we used spinach), asparagus, onion, parmesan, and herbs, too, besides the obvious eggs. I’m supposing all frittatas are made with the same technique: you swish everything together, poor into a hot pan that is coated with butter, cook until the bottom and sides are done, then broil to finish off the top and make it look pretty.

The frittata turned out great! It slid right out of the pan like it was supposed to and was full flavored and pretty on the eyes as well. Fred and I loved it. The boys, as expected, were mild on it, but oh, well, that happens sometimes.

I thought afterward about what else would make a good frittata. Is there a standard ingredient list? Come to think of it, I really don’t know. The boys thought a blueberry frittata would be good: not so sure about that. It seems like seafood and mushroom would be nice, though. I’d like to try ingredients that pulled the frittata away from seeming like another version on an omelet, however such as ham and cheddar or sausage and green pepper. It seems like a frittata ought to have it’s own unique flavors.

You know what does work well in a frittata? Deer sausage! Who knew. The heating process dried the meat our a bit which made it more appetizing to me. I would like to make another frittata just like this one again, in fact.

Successful recipe. Yippee. So, we’re done with the venison section. What comes next?

Columbia Trout

Trout fishing may conjure images of a fly rods and picturesque spring-fed streams, but yesterday an opportunity opened up to go for trout just down the road from my house a couple of miles, using traditional pond fishing techniques.

Actually, the opportunity to catch these trout has been there all winter, but yesterday was the first day you could keep them. There are several trout recipes remaining in Cooking Wild in Missouri, so we had to give it a shot.

The lake at Cosmo Bethel is stocked with trout in the fall, and on February 1 you can start taking them home, limit four, if you can hook them. I took Henry and Oliver there right after school, and we were joined by about 60 other anglers. It was about 60 and sunny, so we didn’t expect anything different. Due to vegetation, you can only approach the water on about half of the lake, so it was pretty crowded in spots, but there was still room to get your line in the water.

We stayed until dark, and left empty handed. We had some light bites, but failed to hook anything. Henry was dedicated, with his motivation primarily driven not by glory, but by his taste for trout. Oliver was too tempted by the playground nearby.

I would say about 80 percent of the people out there didn’t catch anything, but on the other hand I saw four guys catch their limit in the two hours that I was there, so I know that it’s possible. We’re going to have to give it another go while this weather is holding out. This is the same lake that people were ice-fishing on at this time of year a couple of years ago.

The Ruger

Being the youngest of four siblings, by four years, gave me a distinct advantage in growing up in that my parents always treated me older than I was, and I tried not to screw up that illusion. This led to me getting my first handgun when I was about 14 years old.

Legally, I guess it was my mother’s handgun, since she had to register it in her name. But I certainly thought of it as mine. It was a .22 caliber stainless steel Ruger Single Six, with an extra cylinder that would convert it into a .22 magnum. 

Unlike most handguns, this one was hunting tool. I ran hundreds of rounds of cheap ammo through it to get my skills hunting-worthy. I never did become a crack-shot, but I hunted with it enough that I had some success.

The squirrels must have surely appreciated the Ruger. Many owe their lives to the fact that I was shooting at them with a handgun rather than a rifle or shotgun. But there were a lot of opportunities, and sometimes I hit my mark.

The .22 also was instantly my raccoon hunting gun. When I was climbing up and down creek banks, sometimes icy creek banks, in the middle of the night I appreciated having both hands free and my gun securely tucked away in its holster. And the raccoon was never farther away than the top of the tree. I could always make a good shot at that range, eventually.

I also took rabbits with it, and many frogs. I think within the first year or two of owning the Ruger,  I got every type of game you can hunt in Missouri with a .22, except for a coyote, and I’m not interested in trying to eat a coyote.

Back then I spent a lot of time on an ATV, which in those days had three wheels. Carrying the Ruger in a shoulder holster was much easier than putting a long gun in the ATV gun rack and watching the finish get rubbed off as it bounced around.

When it comes to safety, I don’t think a pistol should ever leave its case unless the shooter is wearing a holster. With a holster  on, the barrel is almost always pointing in a safe direction until the shooter draws to fire. In this respect it is safer than a long gun. But when someone takes a pistol to the backyard or the back 40 to do some target shooting and doesn’t bother to wear a holster, he ends up holding the pistol in his hand all the time, and pointing it all kinds of places he didn’t intend to. In this respect, the pistol is much more dangerous than a long gun; in-hand it is easy to unintentionally point it in an unsafe direction.

My father never had any use for pistols, but didn’t argue with me taking mine when we would raccoon hunt. One night the dogs treed in a cedar tree, and we couldn’t see up in it at all. Dad climbed the tree to the top, and saw the coon, and it was a big one. My friend Troy had climbed part way up, so I climbed up to meet Troy, passed him the Ruger, and he passed it to my Dad, who was taken aback at having to use a pistol. But he was in the top of the tree, what could he do? So he pointed and fired, knocking the raccoon out of the tree. Troy reported feeling it brush down his back on the way down.

When I got old enough to buy a handgun on my own I did; a Smith and Wesson 2206, stainless steel semi-automatic. And I gave it to my Dad. He doesn’t take it hunting, but has employed it several times in the chicken house to take out a nuisance predator.

Since I got warmed up with the .22 at the range last week, maybe I’ll put it to use soon for some small game hunting soon. And I learned yesterday that next year’s muzzle-loading deer season is being opened up to include other weapons, including handguns.  I couldn’t use the .22 for deer, of course, but I do have a .44 that is just waiting for such an opportunity.