On My Game
Cooking venison, the nonredneck way
Published: October 10, 2012
Two years—three deer seasons—back, I began learning to hunt. The whole enchilada: bow and arrows, target practice in the backyard, climbing trees in my brand-new camo wardrobe, all in the hopes of shooting Bambi for dinner. In my first season I shot only once, and missed. A more experienced hunter, though, gave me a doe he’d killed, and I taught myself to butcher it on my kitchen counter (amazing what you can learn from YouTube videos). My second season, I actually got a deer—a little button buck—and those butchering skills got better.
I had visions of Escoffier-style haute cuisine, but when I went looking for venison recipes what I found was Betty Crocker—and Betty was having a bad day. Almost everything I saw called for a crock pot and a can of cream-of-whatever soup. The really fancy ones threw in some Lipton’s French onion soup mix. It seemed that the grand tradition of classic game cookery had been hijacked by rednecks . . . which only made sense, when I stopped to think about the general hunting demographic.
I, however, was after a more elevated approach to cooking venison, something befitting all the time and work I’d put into killing and processing this deer in the first place. After I had taken this animal’s life for my dinner, I wasn’t going to just set it and forget it in the slow cooker with a bunch of crap from a can. Eventually I found Steak Diane, a swanky dish hugely popular during the French cooking craze in the early ’60s. It was also originally a venison recipe (“Diane” as in Diana, Roman goddess of the hunt) in Escoffier’s 1903 Le Guide Culinaire. After taking a look at Escoffier’s dozen-plus ingredients, though, I opted for Craig Claiborne’s streamlined version from the 1961 New York Times Cookbook. It was a simple but fantastically effective way to cook venison, using a scandalous amount of butter to compensate for game’s natural leanness and then cutting that richness with cognac (I used Calvados).
During my exile in redneck recipe-ville, though, I did fall in love with one preparation involving a slow cooker and a can—of root beer. My mom was the one, actually, who suggested I try adapting a super-easy recipe for pork BBQ that her friends were raving about, using venison in pork’s stead, and it worked really, really well. I must now confess that, when retrieving a pack of venison from the freezer, I reach for the root beer much more often than I crack open my illustrated Escoffier.
(Named for Diana, Roman goddess of the hunt)
1 venison backstrap or tenderloin, cut into ” slices (Alternative: use a 12 ounce beef tenderloin)
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon cognac, heated
2 tablespoons sherry
1 more tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon chopped chives.
1. Trim the meat well and pound very thin with a mallet.
2. Heat one and one-half tablespoons butter in a chafing-dish platter. Add the steak and cook quickly, turning it once.
3. Add the cognac and flame. Add the sherry and the sweet butter creamed with chives.
4. Place the steak on a warm platter and pour the pan juices over it.”
-The New York Times Cook Book, Craig Claiborne [Harper & Row: New York] 1961 (p. 91)
(Named after my mom)
Big hunk of venison: rump roast, shoulder, whatever you got. Or stew chunks. (Optional: bacon)
1 twelve-ounce can root beer (you can use more, but I find more makes the finished BBQ taste strongly of root beer. 12 oz really does do the job).
Your favorite BBQ sauce (from a bottle, or you can get all fancy and make some)
Put thawed meat in slow cooker. Pour the rootbeer on top. Turn on low and cook 6 to 8 hours, until tender. Turn the meat a couple times if you think of it; it’s better that all of it spends some time submerged in the root beer. Remove from cooker, pull apart into shreds, mix with BBQ sauce.
(Bacon option: drape slices of bacon over meat before pouring in rootbeer, and remove and discard bacon at the end. Venison is incredibly lean, and adding a little fat definitely makes this even more delicious).
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