Pluck a zucchini from a vine in the backyard then transform it to a plateful of fritters for supper, and the chin tilts a bit with pride. Pop the vacuum seal of plum tomatoes jarred in September then use them as a base for red sauce in January, and the chest puffs.
The real strutting begins, though, when the hunter brings home the bacon — or the deer or duck, quail or squirrel, as the case may be.
Odds are that if you open that same proud hunter’s freezer you will find at least one wrapped parcel of something from last season. Or last year.
Often, that’s because the thrill of the hunt and the pride of the catch has ended all too often with the ubiquitous deer chili, venison roast or bacon-wrapped duck breasts. Complaints about wild game dishes range from being same old, same old to too gamey to too dry to too gross. I’m thinking of my own reaction when my mother-in-law waxed poetic many years ago about how Daddy would create a thrill in Mother’s kitchen when he walked through the door at suppertime with a string of squirrel or rabbit that Mother would fry in some rendered bacon fat. I wanted to hop in the other direction at the mere thought back then. Silly girl.