I love Top Chef. It is the only show that I really watch anymore and truth be told, I'm not entirely sure why. Top Chef combines two things that don't really sit well with me, food and cooking. If you read a blog posting I created some months ago, then you will be keenly aware of my predilection towards what nourishes me. While I have been blaming my lack of ingesting sustenance on our extremely poor situation and the extraordinary stress we've been under (for reasons that shall remain nameless, unfortunately, but just know I may be a little off in the coming weeks), I know that there's a little part of my brain that is frankly happy that eating is something that I do infrequently. In the same token, cooking is something that I don't really get. I have never gotten "it", being putting different kinds of food together to make one big type of food or little bunches of food that marries as well as an any Kardashian nuptial. Granted, I am getting better in the room I used to be scared of and previously used as additional storage (I found this out the hard way as when we moved here, I found a box of my old kitchen wears from my old apartment, almost all had never seen a food particle in their sad lives), I've made a bunch of dinners and even baked goods that DU has raved over (probably simply because he no longer must sustain on Ramen noodles). However, these meals were made with one eye on a recipe card and the other guiding a shaking hand. After evaluating all of the evidence at hand, it seems that I enjoy Top Chef because it is an ethnography for a life that I could never fathom.
As I much on a small snack of sharp cheddar cheese or a toasted sandwich made with said bovine biproduct (if there is anything I have a prodigy-like genius for, it's making grilled cheese, ask DU), I watch the chefs zoom around the Top Chef's version of a kitchen, which could be anything from your typical over-the-top one to a beach with a fire pit to inside a moving bus to the surface of the moon without anti-gravity cookware. Their challenges become more ridiculous than the next and while some falter with the requirements, others shine which absolutely blows my culinary mind. Make something out of this sheep's stomach that tastes like fish covered in Chocolate sauce! See that mastodon over there? Spear it then make a seven-course meal from him using only sticks and this piece of concrete! Unicorn is a required taste, friend, do shimmy off, find one, butcher it, run 26.2 miles, then make the mythical creature into a doughnut that resembles the scent of a Jackalope. The ones that really always get me are the episodes that require the contestants to make a dinner out of a memory. Really? Out of a memory? Can you find anything more abstract than cooking a dish that reminds you of last Tuesday's political rally that ended with eight arrests? If I were to be forced, at gunpoint, because who really would want me to make them anything, to make a dish that reminded me perfectly of my childhood, I would run as quickly as I could to the nearest grocery store (my kidnapper has rules too, apparently, no vehicles!), buy a box of Hamburger Helper and make that square meal exactly like Mom made it.
Anytime a Chef makes something "prepared two ways" I giggle like a schoolgirl at a Taylor Swift concert (gag, I know, hence the simile) and think to myself How can anyone prepare something in two different ways? My answer is always met with some pairing that looks like it came out of a museum for food I would never eat but looks super pretty; a duo of duck, one pan-seared (whatever that means) and one thrown into dirt then fried: a pair of pear, both emulsified (again, not sure what that refers to) but one dipped into acid and set on fire (that one seems wrong and unsafe): a half quatrain of pig's ears, one still on the pig, one off. Given that I am a preschooler compared to these behemoths of culinary perfection, if I get one dish right, it is a celebration that will rival the one I will throw when Taylor Swift stops her rein of terrible music upon the good name of Country music. If I even attempted a duo of anything, one would probably turn out edible but discolored while the other would be on fire, taking my house with it. Imagine my surprise, however, when I woke up this morning and realized that last night, with a little of DU's help, I had "prepared" venison "two ways".
We, fortunately, thankfully and blessfully (not a word, I know but I just invented it, ahhh the power of blogging), have a whole freezer full of deer meat. With my buck and DU's doe/buck combination, we are in desperate need of a bigger freezing containment structure. Hence, I have been eating venison with everything lately. This has forced a little of the Top Chef knowledge I've osmosised (again, not a word, but it is now!! MUAHAHAH!) to the surface. I've made everything from venison pitas with onion chip dip, pasta with salsa, and even little fajitas with an absurd amount of sour cream. Last night was no different when DU suggested we pull out some tenderloin from his buck and grill it, bacon wrapped. DU has a tendency to wrap a lot of foods in bacon, and while this gives me a small level of anxiety, it always turns out perfectly so I go with it. Before we could really get our fingers dirty with the wild game, DU had to run "somewhere" to get "something". If you read Mounted In North Carolina, then you know this is manspeak for "I have a present for you but I don't want you to volunteer to come along and ruin the surprise". So, while I did laundry, made DU's lunch for the next day (nothing special there, it looked a lot like the lunches I opened as a second-grader) and actually did laundry (gasp!), DU went out to do whatever it is that he does.
About an hour later, the dogs' barking (Dixie, we have come to find is a really good home-defense dog as her howling seems that of a much larger canine) informed me that DU was home. I greeted him at the door, and to my surprise (not really, because I knew exactly where he was going), he was holding my first ever buck, European mounted, just as I wanted it. Our taxidermist did a fantastic job preparing our bone-seared venison head, such a good job in fact, that for the purposes of this post, I'm going to take part of the credit. Okay, maybe not any of the credit but I'll just say that I had some hand in preparing the head one way (I killed it, didn't I?). This is my first-ever buck, taken with a bow, on camera, that has been mounted so the fact that I stare at it each time I walk into my bedroom is completely normal. He is currently hanging between the rungs of our Christmas-light entwined log backboard, watching over all, a testimony to my bowhuntress skills, an afternoon I will remember forever.
Once Mr. Bone was in his proper place, DU and I focused on our dinner. The tenderloin was thawed in a pool of warm water then extracted from their bag to lay upon the cutting board. Thick slabs of bacon were then halved then thirded (word? maybe?), wrapped around and adhered to the venison with toothpicks*. The meat then was carried with a manly touch to the manly grill to be manly watched for about 10 minutes. DU had the little nuggets of PETA- disapproved but humanely killed meat on a high heat so while the outside began to crisp, the inside heated slightly. While DU manned the manly grill, I threw together some homemade (read: from the blue box) macaroni and cheese. After a whole tenth of an hour of blood, sweat and a couple of tears, our dinner was ready, venison prepared its second way: slightly charred, wrapped in bacon and delicious.
For the past couple months and for the next, DU and I have to face some tough situations. Again, I can't go into detail here even though I would positively love to tell y'all everything. Since I've lost my job and have been unable to find new work, we have been really struggling to get by, hence I have been sulking a lot, not doing much besides looking for work, reading book after book, and crying. However, this morning, after I realized that I had done something (okay, maybe not me, by myself but me nonetheless ((give me a bone here, this is the first realization of my ability to overcome anything, face any challenge and meet it head-on has not disappeared in the face of all of our recent adversity!))) I never thought myself able to do, I understood that life as I was living it wasn't true to who I am. So, starting today, as in this morning at 6:42, I am going to start living again and try my best to disallow any of the negativity surrounding us to affect me so greatly anymore. I have a couple plans go about this (volunteer at the library, since I spend enough time there anyway, write for a new blog (details to come), walk the dogs more, and stop taking everything so seriously all the time) and I feel ready to take on the world. I needed this push desperately, this realization of the way I've been living my life, and who knew it would come from venison, prepared two ways?
*Please note: DU did all of the preparation and cooking. I figured if I wrote this section in a way that made me look like I knew what I was doing, then everyone would just assume that I did all of the work while DU drank beer in front of the TV. However, again, since no one ever reads the fine print of really long contracts for credit cards with fictitious low interest rates, no one well ever read this tiny confession and see me as the culinary whiz I just happen not to be! *giggles*
As I much on a small snack of sharp cheddar cheese or a toasted sandwich made with said bovine biproduct (if there is anything I have a prodigy-like genius for, it's making grilled cheese, ask DU), I watch the chefs zoom around the Top Chef's version of a kitchen, which could be anything from your typical over-the-top one to a beach with a fire pit to inside a moving bus to the surface of the moon without anti-gravity cookware. Their challenges become more ridiculous than the next and while some falter with the requirements, others shine which absolutely blows my culinary mind. Make something out of this sheep's stomach that tastes like fish covered in Chocolate sauce! See that mastodon over there? Spear it then make a seven-course meal from him using only sticks and this piece of concrete! Unicorn is a required taste, friend, do shimmy off, find one, butcher it, run 26.2 miles, then make the mythical creature into a doughnut that resembles the scent of a Jackalope. The ones that really always get me are the episodes that require the contestants to make a dinner out of a memory. Really? Out of a memory? Can you find anything more abstract than cooking a dish that reminds you of last Tuesday's political rally that ended with eight arrests? If I were to be forced, at gunpoint, because who really would want me to make them anything, to make a dish that reminded me perfectly of my childhood, I would run as quickly as I could to the nearest grocery store (my kidnapper has rules too, apparently, no vehicles!), buy a box of Hamburger Helper and make that square meal exactly like Mom made it.
Anytime a Chef makes something "prepared two ways" I giggle like a schoolgirl at a Taylor Swift concert (gag, I know, hence the simile) and think to myself How can anyone prepare something in two different ways? My answer is always met with some pairing that looks like it came out of a museum for food I would never eat but looks super pretty; a duo of duck, one pan-seared (whatever that means) and one thrown into dirt then fried: a pair of pear, both emulsified (again, not sure what that refers to) but one dipped into acid and set on fire (that one seems wrong and unsafe): a half quatrain of pig's ears, one still on the pig, one off. Given that I am a preschooler compared to these behemoths of culinary perfection, if I get one dish right, it is a celebration that will rival the one I will throw when Taylor Swift stops her rein of terrible music upon the good name of Country music. If I even attempted a duo of anything, one would probably turn out edible but discolored while the other would be on fire, taking my house with it. Imagine my surprise, however, when I woke up this morning and realized that last night, with a little of DU's help, I had "prepared" venison "two ways".
We, fortunately, thankfully and blessfully (not a word, I know but I just invented it, ahhh the power of blogging), have a whole freezer full of deer meat. With my buck and DU's doe/buck combination, we are in desperate need of a bigger freezing containment structure. Hence, I have been eating venison with everything lately. This has forced a little of the Top Chef knowledge I've osmosised (again, not a word, but it is now!! MUAHAHAH!) to the surface. I've made everything from venison pitas with onion chip dip, pasta with salsa, and even little fajitas with an absurd amount of sour cream. Last night was no different when DU suggested we pull out some tenderloin from his buck and grill it, bacon wrapped. DU has a tendency to wrap a lot of foods in bacon, and while this gives me a small level of anxiety, it always turns out perfectly so I go with it. Before we could really get our fingers dirty with the wild game, DU had to run "somewhere" to get "something". If you read Mounted In North Carolina, then you know this is manspeak for "I have a present for you but I don't want you to volunteer to come along and ruin the surprise". So, while I did laundry, made DU's lunch for the next day (nothing special there, it looked a lot like the lunches I opened as a second-grader) and actually did laundry (gasp!), DU went out to do whatever it is that he does.
Once Mr. Bone was in his proper place, DU and I focused on our dinner. The tenderloin was thawed in a pool of warm water then extracted from their bag to lay upon the cutting board. Thick slabs of bacon were then halved then thirded (word? maybe?), wrapped around and adhered to the venison with toothpicks*. The meat then was carried with a manly touch to the manly grill to be manly watched for about 10 minutes. DU had the little nuggets of PETA- disapproved but humanely killed meat on a high heat so while the outside began to crisp, the inside heated slightly. While DU manned the manly grill, I threw together some homemade (read: from the blue box) macaroni and cheese. After a whole tenth of an hour of blood, sweat and a couple of tears, our dinner was ready, venison prepared its second way: slightly charred, wrapped in bacon and delicious.For the past couple months and for the next, DU and I have to face some tough situations. Again, I can't go into detail here even though I would positively love to tell y'all everything. Since I've lost my job and have been unable to find new work, we have been really struggling to get by, hence I have been sulking a lot, not doing much besides looking for work, reading book after book, and crying. However, this morning, after I realized that I had done something (okay, maybe not me, by myself but me nonetheless ((give me a bone here, this is the first realization of my ability to overcome anything, face any challenge and meet it head-on has not disappeared in the face of all of our recent adversity!))) I never thought myself able to do, I understood that life as I was living it wasn't true to who I am. So, starting today, as in this morning at 6:42, I am going to start living again and try my best to disallow any of the negativity surrounding us to affect me so greatly anymore. I have a couple plans go about this (volunteer at the library, since I spend enough time there anyway, write for a new blog (details to come), walk the dogs more, and stop taking everything so seriously all the time) and I feel ready to take on the world. I needed this push desperately, this realization of the way I've been living my life, and who knew it would come from venison, prepared two ways?
*Please note: DU did all of the preparation and cooking. I figured if I wrote this section in a way that made me look like I knew what I was doing, then everyone would just assume that I did all of the work while DU drank beer in front of the TV. However, again, since no one ever reads the fine print of really long contracts for credit cards with fictitious low interest rates, no one well ever read this tiny confession and see me as the culinary whiz I just happen not to be! *giggles*
2 comments:
You have for sure put a lot of thought into your post and AI commend you for that. It sure sounds like we are alike in many ways although my freezer is completely empty so if you want you can store some of that venison in mine. :)
Everything's better with bacon and beer! My daughter brined the Thanksgiving turkey in beer and then wrapped the whole thing in bacon. Holy cow. That was the best tasting bird EVER. I have some elk steaks in the freezer that a neighbor brought to me, I've been debating about how I was going to cook them up. Now I know.
By the way, as I write this comment I have a herd of elk moving through my backyard. It's too dark to see them, but I can certainly hear and smell them.
I'm a big Top Chef fan too, but I am not the cook I once was, I let my food columnist daughter do all the work now. Thanks for the idea, I'll haul those steaks on over to her house and get her to cook them up for me. :D
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