“How many of you make stocks and broths with your carcasses?”
Nearly a quarter of the more than 150 people sitting in front of me raised their hands.
I could have cried I was so happy.
Last weekend, at Pheasant Fest in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, I spoke about how hunters can get more out of the game they bring home, primarily game birds since the event is a celebration of upland game hunting.
I have given a talk like this, in various forms, at Pheasant Fest for a decade. When I started, the idea of eating giblets, or using the carcasses of a wild game animal seemed to my audiences like something out of a horror movie, or at least a relic of the Depression.
When I’d ask the question, maybe one or two hands would go up, and it would always be either a young couple who reads Hunter Angler Gardener Cook, or an old woman who grew up, well, in the Depression. Last weekend, however, it was a cross-cut of society — young and old, well-dressed, and, er, rustic.
As I went through my presentation, heads nodded in agreement where they had not in previous years. Admittedly, some of this is because, over time, I have learned that there are quite a few old school, traditional uses for “off” bits of wild game animals that I was unaware of a decade ago, like fried gizzards and red beer.
Both before and after my stage presentations, convention goers accosted me every few minutes. In almost every case they either had a question about a wild game recipe they were working on, or just wanted to say nice things about my recipes.
Obviously this sort of ego stroke is gratifying, although I do confess that receiving compliments is hard for me; I’ve had to learn over the years how to graciously accept them. But what really struck me is how the general level of wild game cooking has advanced in the past decade.
And while I definitely play a role in this, the movement is far greater than I am. The number of others, chefs or just enthusiastic home cooks, who are presenting wild game in a new, more nuanced light, has grown tenfold since I started Hunte Angler Gardener Cook back in 2007.
Just to name a few, there’s my fellow St Paul resident Alan Bergo, who does game but specializes in wild plants and mushrooms; Jesse Griffiths and Danielle Prewitt of Texas; Stacy Lynn Harris and David Bancroft of Alabama, and Wade Truong of Virginia. Up in Canada, there’s the well-named Michael Hunter. These are cooks whose work I admire — they’re fighting the good fight as I am.
I get asked if I don’t feel like these others are “horning in on my turf.” Occasionally I’ll get a twinge, when someone does a recipe I’ve already done, or am known for, but if I am clear-eyed, the simple fact is that success is not a zero-sum game. There’s room for all of us in this space, and together we’ve raised the bar on wild game cooking in North America.
That show of hands, the conversations I had at Pheasant Fest, show that clearly.
Online, in social media and in forums, I routinely see non-chefs cooking things like wild rice soup with pheasant, grilled deer heart, a thousand permutations on elk stew, fried rabbit, and the always popular venison Wellington, a dish I personally don’t like. No cream of mushroom soup in sight!
I told a dear friend that seeing all this, being the OG wild game cook that I am, felt a little like dying, passing in a “my work is done” sort of way. Reflecting on that, it feels closer to seeing your children become successful, and, just maybe, even better than you are.
I’m not going away. Wild foods are, always have been, and always will be a passion of mine. But it has been deeply grateful to see progress made, by all of us. You included.
I was one of those attendees at Pheasant Fest, front and center. I wanted to chat after, but as you say, you were inundated. This post is appropriate, because I truly feel like your wild game distance pupil (as I’m sure most do). Hunter Angler Gardener Cook was there to help butcher the first deer (rigged from a truck hitch in our Midwest neighborhood😅). Those recipes taught me how to turn our pheasant and deer into our daily fare; weeknight meals and something-not-deep-fried (which is all I knew of game). Over 7 years of hunting for sustenance, Hunter Angler is still there when I want to elevate a meal because I treasure an animal (the bird dogs first grouse, the one antelope we’ll get), or impress family and friends. Thank you for speaking and carrying the culinary wild game torch!
I blame you Hank for my buddy about to eat the eye of fish that I had grilled whole following the instructions in "Hook,Line, and Supper." Wobbly bits are one thing but he only stopped when threatened with the prospect of puking dining partners.