Barbara Chepaitis's Blog: http://aliterarylunch.blogspot.com/2015/07/frying-mad.html, page 11
January 14, 2012
True Love and Doggie Talk
What I’m really writing about today is how to know true love, which leads you on strange paths toward your own soul. To do so, I have to talk about dogs.
It’s probably obvious that a writer with a character named Jaguar is a cat person, but I hope it doesn’t shock and horrify you to learn that I never liked dogs.
That’s because I grew up with my father’s dog, Prince, an unneutered male beagle who smelled bad, and embarrassed me with his amorous intents toward lady dogs of the neighborhood, I learned early on to prefer the contemplative, sensual, and predatory attitude of cats. While dogs rolled in poop, my cats rolled in my herb garden, and would brush the scent of lavender against my face.
Then, I married a man who always had dogs, and wanted another. I grit my teeth and welcomed Luna, a black lab, into our home. I did it only because I love my husband, and knew how much joy this would bring him. And, as is often the case with love, what happened next was sheer hell.
It started when we introduced Luna to our black cat, Photon. Picture this: A black puppy and a black cat, weighing in about the same, sit in a livingroom, looking at each other. The puppy wags her tail. The cat sees the wagging tail, interprets it as a challenge, and starts to flick his tail back and forth. The puppy sees the flicking tail and interprets it as playtime. The puppy leaps, the cat pounces, and a great tangle of fur and claws and noise ensues. Husband and wife separate dog and cat, and glare at each other over their respective pets.
It didn’t get better quick. Luna had a strong prey drive and often chased the cat, which made me crazy, and whiny. I didn’t understand dogs. They have to be taken out. They look at you and want to be with you always. They eat your shoes. There was a great gap between my consciousness and doggie mind.
But, in fact, there’s always a gap between one consciousness and another. Always. Any married person will tell you that. As a writer my job is to bridge that gap, make the experience I write about real for the reader. My tools are words, chosen carefully to create sensory experience for the reader - the doggie smell versus the cat smell, for instance. But with dogs, I didn’t have a clue. I had to learn the language.
The first thing I learned was that dogs are all about The Walk, which is fine since I like to walk. However, as you can imagine, I’m an off-leash kind of gal, so Luna and I started walking the hundred or so acres of woods around us - no leash needed.
On those daily walks I observed her behavior and saw how closely she observed mine. Our communication grew simple and wordless. I would point. She would go that way. I’d clap my hands. She’d turn and come to me. She’d prance around a stick. I’d pick it up and throw it. When I gestured, she’d bring it back to me.
Over time, I found pleasure in that wordlessness, which stretched my consciousness to embrace Luna’s, and provided a break from my constant immersion in human language. As I investigated more of the woods around us, I grounded my feet firmly in the land and its language as well. And I learned a deeper appreciation of my husband, a man who lives very much in the present tense.
You haven’t forgotten about love, have you? Of course not, because clearly Luna taught me that the hallmark of true love is the way it takes you beyond your own limitations - sometimes kicking and screaming, I’ll grant, but always into realms that increase the well-being of all concerned. True love gives you more languages to speak, more connection with consciousness beyond your own. But what about how it leads you back to your own soul? Yes. That happened, too.
When Luna was about a year old, we were on our morning walk, on a trail with a grassy field on one side, woods on the other. We saw motion in the grass and I stopped to observe. Luna picked her head up, stood in her Calm and Alert position.
Whatever was in the grass was brown and gold, not tall enough to be a deer. A coyote? We’ve got plenty of them around. We waited, Luna unusually still, since she usually tears off after any wild thing that moves.
What emerged from the grass was sleek, golden and white, backlit by the early morning sun. It was a bit larger than coyote, and had a rounder head, rounder ears. It stopped on the open trail and turned to stare at us, no more than 5 yards distant. We were all very still, except for the creature’s long tail, which flicked at the tip in the unmistakable motion of a nervous cat.
A cougar. We were staring at a cougar.
There was great silence, and great connection. We were three different languages, all in communication beyond words, absorbing each other’s essential energy, knowing each other for who we all are.
Eventually, the cougar walked off into the woods. I looked down at Luna, sleek and trim and beautiful. My dog, who led me here. She looked at me for direction and I moved forward, following the cat, then decided breakfast was the better part of valor.
As we made our way home, I began the human act of translating the experience into words. I realized that I’d been richly blessed. Extending myself for love had brought me the reward of a very rare meeting with the creature of my soul - the big cat. I could sense Jaguar Addams grinning at me, knowingly. A good day. A very good day indeed.
Luna and I continue our adventures in the wild together. She’ll appear in the eighth Jaguar Addams novel, A Racing Heart of Fear, because she’s the kind of dog who speaks cat, just as I’ve become the kind of cat who speaks dog.
If you want to give the doggie you love a special treat, here’s a recipe for Mud-Nosed Moon Doggie cookies, which I concocted for Luna.
You can visit me at wildreads.com. You can visit Jaguar at wildside press.
MUD-NOSED MOON DOGGIE COOKIES
About a pound of chicken livers (mine come in 1.25 pound containers)
3-5 slices bacon, chopped up
About 3 cups water, more or less
4-6 cups brown rice flour (you can substitute other flours if you prefer)
1 can mixed peas and carrots
At least one dog to feed.
When you open the chicken livers your dogs will come running. Tell them ‘Sit. Stay,’ and explain that they’ll have to wait.
Put the livers and bacon in a pot and add enough water to almost cover. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat to simmer for about 15 minutes.
Blend it up in a blender or food processor, with the peas and carrots.
Pour it into a bowl and mix with the rice flour, little by little, until you’ve got a dough stiff enough to roll out. You may use more or less of the flour, depending. Feel your way, and add more flour or water as needed. Refrigerate for an hour or so.
Take the dough out of the refrigerator and roll it out to about half an inch thickness. From here, you can simply cut strips which you then cut into squares, doggie treat size. Or you can use a cookie cutter to make the shapes you want. My shapes are made with a thin-rimmed shot-glass, cutting crescent moons. For Luna, of course.
The treats can be ‘cooked’ one of two ways, because really everything is already cooked and you’re just shifting consistency at this point.
For crunchy cookie treats, bake in an oven at 350 degrees for around forty minutes, depending on the size and shape you chose. Just check them, and take them out when they get to your dog’s crunch preference.
For softer cookie treats, microwave them at high for 4-5 minutes.
Let the treats cool. Give some to your patient and persistent doggies.
Learning Fear
It’s probably obvious that a writer with a character named Jaguar is a cat person, but I hope it doesn’t shock and horrify you to learn that I never liked dogs.
That’s because I grew up with my father’s dog, Prince, an unneutered male beagle who smelled bad, and embarrassed me with his amorous intents toward lady dogs of the neighborhood, I learned early on to prefer the contemplative, sensual, and predatory attitude of cats. While dogs rolled in poop, my cats rolled in my herb garden, and would brush the scent of lavender against my face.
Then, I married a man who always had dogs, and wanted another. I grit my teeth and welcomed Luna, a black lab, into our home. I did it only because I love my husband, and knew how much joy this would bring him. And, as is often the case with love, what happened next was sheer hell.
It started when we introduced Luna to our black cat, Photon. Picture this: A black puppy and a black cat, weighing in about the same, sit in a livingroom, looking at each other. The puppy wags her tail. The cat sees the wagging tail, interprets it as a challenge, and starts to flick his tail back and forth. The puppy sees the flicking tail and interprets it as playtime. The puppy leaps, the cat pounces, and a great tangle of fur and claws and noise ensues. Husband and wife separate dog and cat, and glare at each other over their respective pets.
It didn’t get better quick. Luna had a strong prey drive and often chased the cat, which made me crazy, and whiny. I didn’t understand dogs. They have to be taken out. They look at you and want to be with you always. They eat your shoes. There was a great gap between my consciousness and doggie mind.
But, in fact, there’s always a gap between one consciousness and another. Always. Any married person will tell you that. As a writer my job is to bridge that gap, make the experience I write about real for the reader. My tools are words, chosen carefully to create sensory experience for the reader - the doggie smell versus the cat smell, for instance. But with dogs, I didn’t have a clue. I had to learn the language.
The first thing I learned was that dogs are all about The Walk, which is fine since I like to walk. However, as you can imagine, I’m an off-leash kind of gal, so Luna and I started walking the hundred or so acres of woods around us - no leash needed.
On those daily walks I observed her behavior and saw how closely she observed mine. Our communication grew simple and wordless. I would point. She would go that way. I’d clap my hands. She’d turn and come to me. She’d prance around a stick. I’d pick it up and throw it. When I gestured, she’d bring it back to me.
Over time, I found pleasure in that wordlessness, which stretched my consciousness to embrace Luna’s, and provided a break from my constant immersion in human language. As I investigated more of the woods around us, I grounded my feet firmly in the land and its language as well. And I learned a deeper appreciation of my husband, a man who lives very much in the present tense.
You haven’t forgotten about love, have you? Of course not, because clearly Luna taught me that the hallmark of true love is the way it takes you beyond your own limitations - sometimes kicking and screaming, I’ll grant, but always into realms that increase the well-being of all concerned. True love gives you more languages to speak, more connection with consciousness beyond your own. But what about how it leads you back to your own soul? Yes. That happened, too.
When Luna was about a year old, we were on our morning walk, on a trail with a grassy field on one side, woods on the other. We saw motion in the grass and I stopped to observe. Luna picked her head up, stood in her Calm and Alert position.
Whatever was in the grass was brown and gold, not tall enough to be a deer. A coyote? We’ve got plenty of them around. We waited, Luna unusually still, since she usually tears off after any wild thing that moves.
What emerged from the grass was sleek, golden and white, backlit by the early morning sun. It was a bit larger than coyote, and had a rounder head, rounder ears. It stopped on the open trail and turned to stare at us, no more than 5 yards distant. We were all very still, except for the creature’s long tail, which flicked at the tip in the unmistakable motion of a nervous cat.
A cougar. We were staring at a cougar.
There was great silence, and great connection. We were three different languages, all in communication beyond words, absorbing each other’s essential energy, knowing each other for who we all are.
Eventually, the cougar walked off into the woods. I looked down at Luna, sleek and trim and beautiful. My dog, who led me here. She looked at me for direction and I moved forward, following the cat, then decided breakfast was the better part of valor.
As we made our way home, I began the human act of translating the experience into words. I realized that I’d been richly blessed. Extending myself for love had brought me the reward of a very rare meeting with the creature of my soul - the big cat. I could sense Jaguar Addams grinning at me, knowingly. A good day. A very good day indeed.
Luna and I continue our adventures in the wild together. She’ll appear in the eighth Jaguar Addams novel, A Racing Heart of Fear, because she’s the kind of dog who speaks cat, just as I’ve become the kind of cat who speaks dog.
If you want to give the doggie you love a special treat, here’s a recipe for Mud-Nosed Moon Doggie cookies, which I concocted for Luna.
You can visit me at wildreads.com. You can visit Jaguar at wildside press.
MUD-NOSED MOON DOGGIE COOKIES
About a pound of chicken livers (mine come in 1.25 pound containers)
3-5 slices bacon, chopped up
About 3 cups water, more or less
4-6 cups brown rice flour (you can substitute other flours if you prefer)
1 can mixed peas and carrots
At least one dog to feed.
When you open the chicken livers your dogs will come running. Tell them ‘Sit. Stay,’ and explain that they’ll have to wait.
Put the livers and bacon in a pot and add enough water to almost cover. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat to simmer for about 15 minutes.
Blend it up in a blender or food processor, with the peas and carrots.
Pour it into a bowl and mix with the rice flour, little by little, until you’ve got a dough stiff enough to roll out. You may use more or less of the flour, depending. Feel your way, and add more flour or water as needed. Refrigerate for an hour or so.
Take the dough out of the refrigerator and roll it out to about half an inch thickness. From here, you can simply cut strips which you then cut into squares, doggie treat size. Or you can use a cookie cutter to make the shapes you want. My shapes are made with a thin-rimmed shot-glass, cutting crescent moons. For Luna, of course.
The treats can be ‘cooked’ one of two ways, because really everything is already cooked and you’re just shifting consistency at this point.
For crunchy cookie treats, bake in an oven at 350 degrees for around forty minutes, depending on the size and shape you chose. Just check them, and take them out when they get to your dog’s crunch preference.
For softer cookie treats, microwave them at high for 4-5 minutes.
Let the treats cool. Give some to your patient and persistent doggies.
Learning Fear
January 9, 2012
Celebrating the Wild
CELEBRATING THE WILD SOUL
My newest Jaguar Addams novel, The Green Memory of Fear, is just out, so I’m celebrating. And Jaguar, a telepath and empath who makes criminals face their deepest fears, is the wildest woman I know, so I want to celebrate in a way that matches her style.
But what does it mean to be a truly wild woman? What is truly wild in you?
The word itself, from the Old English, meant ‘in the natural state’, which tells me that to be wild is to do what Jaguar advises - See who you are. Be what you see. Being wild, like being creative, varies, um, wildly, from person to person, woman to woman. Otherwise it would be, well, tame. Cultivated. Domesticated. Responding to the demands of the world rather than the authentic soul of the self.
Once you know that, you can figure out what your wild celebration would look like. Dancing in diamonds and silk? Going into the woods alone for a few days with a hunk of bread or a hunk of man? Howling at the moon? Singing in the shower? Scaring your neighbors with abundant lawn ornaments? Who are you, in your most authentic state? What do you do while there? If you already know, go and do it.
I mean that. Really. Why not? The only exception is if your natural state involves hurting yourself or others, in which case you need to see Jaguar for a little mind-mending and soul-shaping.
Since celebration frequently involves food, I asked myself what food howled out Yay Jaguar, and came up with an answer real quick. I went to the opening of The Green Memory of Fear, where Jaguar is on her first official date with Alex, out to dinner. She orders the lobster, which makes Alex glad because watching her eat it is, he says, a combination of predation and sensuality, both at their best.
“That outfit looks lovely on you,” he says to her courteously. (He’s a profoundly courteous man)
“Thank you,” she replies, as she rips a claw off the lobster and sucks meat from it.
The rest of the date is just as interesting, involving them both in work because Jaguar’s wild soul loves her work, but you’ll have to read the book to know how it ends.
As for me, in honor of Jaguar, my most fierce and loving female character, I got a lobster, breathed in its last breath (a Jaguar thing) cooked it up and ate it.
As I did so, all my senses were involved -- tactile, olfactory, visual, taste, even hearing as you crack the shell. When you dip sweet flesh in butter and drag it to your lips, you get lots of licking and drippiness. Very sensual, yet predatory.
Now, this isn’t for everyone, but even if you’re a vegan there’s equivalents. Imagine a bowl of salad, dripping with a honey-mustard vinaigrette, filled with lettuce, olives, cucumber slices, dried cranberries and pine nuts. Now imagine eating it all with your fingers. Fun, right?
After your done, imagine your wildest self, the part of you who says what she means, means what she says, follows the truth where it leads. Whatever that means to you, I highly recommend living, as Jaguar does, close to the bone, even closer to the heart of yourself. If you really do it well, you’ll first have to find the heart and bones of yourself, the place where love blossoms, fierce and beautiful. It’s not always the easiest thing to do, but it sure does keep the doldrums away.
Now go eat something that feeds the wild in you, and think of Jaguar, transforming evil into good, as she crunches on lobster and considers her next potential lover.
Visit either me or Jaguar on Facebook, or my website, wildreads.com and let us know what wild means to you.
LOVELY LOBSTER
1 lobster
1 big pot of water
some salt
melted butter and plenty of it
a dishtowel (no napkins will do)
If you live near the ocean in Maine, go catch a lobster. If not, go to your favorite supermarket and pick out a lobster of your choice.
Bring it home, thanking it all the way. (When eating wild, you can express guilt or gratitude. I prefer gratitude)
Put a big pot of water on the stove, and throw in some salt. You can also put in wine, herbs, lemon, etc, but I say why bother? This is lobster, and needs no improvement or amendation.
Thank the lobster again, and put it in the freezer for about five minutes, which puts it into a state of lobster dreaming, the best way to go.
When the water’s boiling, breathe in the lobster’s last breathe, thank it again, and put it in the pot. While it’s cooking - about 15 minutes for a 1.5 pounder - melt your butter and get your dishtowel.
Take the lobster out, and be patient! Let it cool a little before you crack into it. When you’re done, make sure to tell its story to everyone. They like having their stories told.
BIG SALAD
(Note: In the summer, I like corn on the cob with lobster. In the winter, I’ll just make a salad to go with.)
Lettuce
Arugula
black olives
sliced and chopped cucumbers
dried cranberries
pine nuts
maybe some crumbled feta or blue cheese, depending on the dressing - this is optional.
Chop up the lettuce and arugula to your preference, put everything in a bowl. Dowse it with your favorite dressing, homemade or from a bottle. Here’s one of mine: Honey Mustard Dressing
5 tbsp. good honey
2 tbsp. dijon mustard
2 tbsp. champagne or sherry vinegar (this is a celebration, remember?)
crumbled dill weed
1 tbsp. capers
Put all this in a bowl, then warm it in a microwave for half a minute (You don’t have to, but it whisks together easier this way, and the warm is nice on the cold salad).
Whisk until smooth - except for the capers, of course, which will remain caper round.
Pour it on your salad, mix it with your hands. And eat it that way, too. Play with your food!
My newest Jaguar Addams novel, The Green Memory of Fear, is just out, so I’m celebrating. And Jaguar, a telepath and empath who makes criminals face their deepest fears, is the wildest woman I know, so I want to celebrate in a way that matches her style.
But what does it mean to be a truly wild woman? What is truly wild in you?
The word itself, from the Old English, meant ‘in the natural state’, which tells me that to be wild is to do what Jaguar advises - See who you are. Be what you see. Being wild, like being creative, varies, um, wildly, from person to person, woman to woman. Otherwise it would be, well, tame. Cultivated. Domesticated. Responding to the demands of the world rather than the authentic soul of the self.
Once you know that, you can figure out what your wild celebration would look like. Dancing in diamonds and silk? Going into the woods alone for a few days with a hunk of bread or a hunk of man? Howling at the moon? Singing in the shower? Scaring your neighbors with abundant lawn ornaments? Who are you, in your most authentic state? What do you do while there? If you already know, go and do it.
I mean that. Really. Why not? The only exception is if your natural state involves hurting yourself or others, in which case you need to see Jaguar for a little mind-mending and soul-shaping.
Since celebration frequently involves food, I asked myself what food howled out Yay Jaguar, and came up with an answer real quick. I went to the opening of The Green Memory of Fear, where Jaguar is on her first official date with Alex, out to dinner. She orders the lobster, which makes Alex glad because watching her eat it is, he says, a combination of predation and sensuality, both at their best.
“That outfit looks lovely on you,” he says to her courteously. (He’s a profoundly courteous man)
“Thank you,” she replies, as she rips a claw off the lobster and sucks meat from it.
The rest of the date is just as interesting, involving them both in work because Jaguar’s wild soul loves her work, but you’ll have to read the book to know how it ends.
As for me, in honor of Jaguar, my most fierce and loving female character, I got a lobster, breathed in its last breath (a Jaguar thing) cooked it up and ate it.
As I did so, all my senses were involved -- tactile, olfactory, visual, taste, even hearing as you crack the shell. When you dip sweet flesh in butter and drag it to your lips, you get lots of licking and drippiness. Very sensual, yet predatory.
Now, this isn’t for everyone, but even if you’re a vegan there’s equivalents. Imagine a bowl of salad, dripping with a honey-mustard vinaigrette, filled with lettuce, olives, cucumber slices, dried cranberries and pine nuts. Now imagine eating it all with your fingers. Fun, right?
After your done, imagine your wildest self, the part of you who says what she means, means what she says, follows the truth where it leads. Whatever that means to you, I highly recommend living, as Jaguar does, close to the bone, even closer to the heart of yourself. If you really do it well, you’ll first have to find the heart and bones of yourself, the place where love blossoms, fierce and beautiful. It’s not always the easiest thing to do, but it sure does keep the doldrums away.
Now go eat something that feeds the wild in you, and think of Jaguar, transforming evil into good, as she crunches on lobster and considers her next potential lover.
Visit either me or Jaguar on Facebook, or my website, wildreads.com and let us know what wild means to you.
LOVELY LOBSTER
1 lobster
1 big pot of water
some salt
melted butter and plenty of it
a dishtowel (no napkins will do)
If you live near the ocean in Maine, go catch a lobster. If not, go to your favorite supermarket and pick out a lobster of your choice.
Bring it home, thanking it all the way. (When eating wild, you can express guilt or gratitude. I prefer gratitude)
Put a big pot of water on the stove, and throw in some salt. You can also put in wine, herbs, lemon, etc, but I say why bother? This is lobster, and needs no improvement or amendation.
Thank the lobster again, and put it in the freezer for about five minutes, which puts it into a state of lobster dreaming, the best way to go.
When the water’s boiling, breathe in the lobster’s last breathe, thank it again, and put it in the pot. While it’s cooking - about 15 minutes for a 1.5 pounder - melt your butter and get your dishtowel.
Take the lobster out, and be patient! Let it cool a little before you crack into it. When you’re done, make sure to tell its story to everyone. They like having their stories told.
BIG SALAD
(Note: In the summer, I like corn on the cob with lobster. In the winter, I’ll just make a salad to go with.)
Lettuce
Arugula
black olives
sliced and chopped cucumbers
dried cranberries
pine nuts
maybe some crumbled feta or blue cheese, depending on the dressing - this is optional.
Chop up the lettuce and arugula to your preference, put everything in a bowl. Dowse it with your favorite dressing, homemade or from a bottle. Here’s one of mine: Honey Mustard Dressing
5 tbsp. good honey
2 tbsp. dijon mustard
2 tbsp. champagne or sherry vinegar (this is a celebration, remember?)
crumbled dill weed
1 tbsp. capers
Put all this in a bowl, then warm it in a microwave for half a minute (You don’t have to, but it whisks together easier this way, and the warm is nice on the cold salad).
Whisk until smooth - except for the capers, of course, which will remain caper round.
Pour it on your salad, mix it with your hands. And eat it that way, too. Play with your food!
November 15, 2011
A Literary Lunch
FOOD THAT STARES BACK AT YOU
Rifle hunting season starts in my area this Saturday, and as always this time of year I’m thinking of my father, who was a hunter.
Mind you, he wasn’t a sport hunter. In fact, Lithuanians like him have a prayer that speaks against hunting for sport. “May the blood of animals, fish, or birds killed when I am satiated never soil my hands,” it proclaims.
But our large family took a lot of feeding, so Daddy hunted and fished for just about anything. As a result, my childhood was populated with dead animals hanging around the house. Food that stared back at us.
Braces of ducks hung in the back porch. Dead trout soaked in basins in the sink. Deer were hung from the garage rafters. Even snapping turtles made there way to our kitchen, evolving into a very delicious soup.
Once when a headless turtle was hung there, my sister and my friend Nancy dared me to touch it. I approached slowly. Put out my hand. Extended a finger and poked.
And the damn thing raised an arm and took a swipe at me.
We ran from the garage screaming with the delight of true horror, and I learned that not all wisdom or all strength resides in the head. No, no. Ancient matter still has a story or two to tell.
Given that I spent much of my childhood toying with dead food that looked at me, it’s no wonder I grew up to write a character like Jaguar Addams, a woman who can smell the truth a mile away, and carries a red glass knife up her sleeve. A woman who will say to someone she’s ticked off at, “I could rip your heart out through your lungs with my fingers and dance in your blood.” And she really can.
Now, of course, the food my father hunted is considered gourmet. Pheasants, venison, rabbit, turtle soup, fresh trout, ducks. Yum. And I still know a few hunters who provide me with this provender in exchange for a little of what I make of it.
Here’s one of my favorite uses for venison and duck, a sort of surf and turf ragu, Italian style, which I serve with an exceptionally delectable salad.
BAMBI AND DONALD RAGU
(This recipe is for a small portion. You can increase as you want, depending on how much of each you have. And if you can’t find venison, buffalo substitutes well here.)
1 duck leg portion
2 smallish venison steaks (or other cuts. About a pound)
1 32oz can of crushed tomatoes
Handful of grated Parmesan cheese (the good stuff. Reggiano)
6 good sized sprigs of rosemary
2 cloves garlic
Fruity olive oil
2 cups cremini mushrooms
1 cup assorted dried wild mushrooms
2 tablespoons truffle butter, truffle oil, or truffle honey
about 10 sprigs fresh parsley
about a cup of madiera, or marsala, or sherry.
Soak the dried mushrooms in about a cup of hot water for about 30 minutes, then puree them. While it’s soaking, slice your cremini mushrooms thin.
Put a big sauce pot on the stove and get it hot. Add the fruity olive oil to cover the bottom. While it’s heating, season the meat and chop the garlic and parsley fine.
When the oil is hot, put the meat in to sear, letting it get nice and brown on both sides. As it’s searing, add two sprigs of the rosemary, whole, to sizzle in with it.
Add the mushrooms to the pot, a little at a time so the oil doesn’t cool down. When they’ve got some color going, and everything smells really fine and is just as you want it, add the garlic, and before the garlic burns (never burn the garlic) add the sherry to deglaze the pot. Let some of the alchohol burn off, then add the dried mushroom puree.
You can now remove the two sprigs of rosemary you put in earlier. They’ve done they’re job.
Stir things up, scrape the bottom of the pan, sniff, say ‘wow, this smells good.’
Add the crushed tomatoes, the rest of the sprigs of rosemary (which you can remove later) and stir some more.
Put the heat down to simmer and let it all simmer very very slowly for about an hour (time is relative), going over to talk to it and stir it and coax and encourage now and then.
When it’s done simmering, add your grated cheese and truffle oil. You can take the meat out and chop the venison and take the duck meat off the bone then put it back, or leave it whole, as you choose.
My preference is to serve this over a homemade pappardelle, but any hearty pasta such as penne will do.
EAT WHAT YOUR DINNER ATE
Arugula
Spinach
mandarin or fresh orange
small can of sliced beets
balsamic vinegar
good olive oil
truffle olive oil
walnuts (if you like)
Get a bunch of arugula and either one fresh orange or a can of mandarin oranges, depending on your taste for sweet or tart. Also a small can of beets. Section the oranges (if using fresh) and chop the beets roughly. Toss in with the arugula and spinach. Throw in some walnuts if you like them. They go good with this.
Make a TRUFFLE VINAGRETTE of good balsamic vinegar, a combination of really good fruity extra virgin olive oil and either truffle olive oil or truffle honey (either one works, but the honey will add sweetness, of course.) Season with salt and pepper, and toss it on the salad.
Put your head in the bowl and munch.Barbara Chepaitis
Rifle hunting season starts in my area this Saturday, and as always this time of year I’m thinking of my father, who was a hunter.
Mind you, he wasn’t a sport hunter. In fact, Lithuanians like him have a prayer that speaks against hunting for sport. “May the blood of animals, fish, or birds killed when I am satiated never soil my hands,” it proclaims.
But our large family took a lot of feeding, so Daddy hunted and fished for just about anything. As a result, my childhood was populated with dead animals hanging around the house. Food that stared back at us.
Braces of ducks hung in the back porch. Dead trout soaked in basins in the sink. Deer were hung from the garage rafters. Even snapping turtles made there way to our kitchen, evolving into a very delicious soup.
Once when a headless turtle was hung there, my sister and my friend Nancy dared me to touch it. I approached slowly. Put out my hand. Extended a finger and poked.
And the damn thing raised an arm and took a swipe at me.
We ran from the garage screaming with the delight of true horror, and I learned that not all wisdom or all strength resides in the head. No, no. Ancient matter still has a story or two to tell.
Given that I spent much of my childhood toying with dead food that looked at me, it’s no wonder I grew up to write a character like Jaguar Addams, a woman who can smell the truth a mile away, and carries a red glass knife up her sleeve. A woman who will say to someone she’s ticked off at, “I could rip your heart out through your lungs with my fingers and dance in your blood.” And she really can.
Now, of course, the food my father hunted is considered gourmet. Pheasants, venison, rabbit, turtle soup, fresh trout, ducks. Yum. And I still know a few hunters who provide me with this provender in exchange for a little of what I make of it.
Here’s one of my favorite uses for venison and duck, a sort of surf and turf ragu, Italian style, which I serve with an exceptionally delectable salad.
BAMBI AND DONALD RAGU
(This recipe is for a small portion. You can increase as you want, depending on how much of each you have. And if you can’t find venison, buffalo substitutes well here.)
1 duck leg portion
2 smallish venison steaks (or other cuts. About a pound)
1 32oz can of crushed tomatoes
Handful of grated Parmesan cheese (the good stuff. Reggiano)
6 good sized sprigs of rosemary
2 cloves garlic
Fruity olive oil
2 cups cremini mushrooms
1 cup assorted dried wild mushrooms
2 tablespoons truffle butter, truffle oil, or truffle honey
about 10 sprigs fresh parsley
about a cup of madiera, or marsala, or sherry.
Soak the dried mushrooms in about a cup of hot water for about 30 minutes, then puree them. While it’s soaking, slice your cremini mushrooms thin.
Put a big sauce pot on the stove and get it hot. Add the fruity olive oil to cover the bottom. While it’s heating, season the meat and chop the garlic and parsley fine.
When the oil is hot, put the meat in to sear, letting it get nice and brown on both sides. As it’s searing, add two sprigs of the rosemary, whole, to sizzle in with it.
Add the mushrooms to the pot, a little at a time so the oil doesn’t cool down. When they’ve got some color going, and everything smells really fine and is just as you want it, add the garlic, and before the garlic burns (never burn the garlic) add the sherry to deglaze the pot. Let some of the alchohol burn off, then add the dried mushroom puree.
You can now remove the two sprigs of rosemary you put in earlier. They’ve done they’re job.
Stir things up, scrape the bottom of the pan, sniff, say ‘wow, this smells good.’
Add the crushed tomatoes, the rest of the sprigs of rosemary (which you can remove later) and stir some more.
Put the heat down to simmer and let it all simmer very very slowly for about an hour (time is relative), going over to talk to it and stir it and coax and encourage now and then.
When it’s done simmering, add your grated cheese and truffle oil. You can take the meat out and chop the venison and take the duck meat off the bone then put it back, or leave it whole, as you choose.
My preference is to serve this over a homemade pappardelle, but any hearty pasta such as penne will do.
EAT WHAT YOUR DINNER ATE
Arugula
Spinach
mandarin or fresh orange
small can of sliced beets
balsamic vinegar
good olive oil
truffle olive oil
walnuts (if you like)
Get a bunch of arugula and either one fresh orange or a can of mandarin oranges, depending on your taste for sweet or tart. Also a small can of beets. Section the oranges (if using fresh) and chop the beets roughly. Toss in with the arugula and spinach. Throw in some walnuts if you like them. They go good with this.
Make a TRUFFLE VINAGRETTE of good balsamic vinegar, a combination of really good fruity extra virgin olive oil and either truffle olive oil or truffle honey (either one works, but the honey will add sweetness, of course.) Season with salt and pepper, and toss it on the salad.
Put your head in the bowl and munch.Barbara Chepaitis
