Gluten-Allergy Suffers Rejoice: This Beer-Battered Walleye Recipe is Just for You

Celiac disease—the autoimmune disorder where the ingestion of gluten leads to damage in the small intestine—affects an estimated one out of 133 people. Those afflicted by the disorder can’t consume anything containing wheat, rye or barely. Consuming gluten would cause abdominal pain, diarrhea and/or fatigue (or more severe consequences in some circumstances).

That means, based on the number of fishing license holders in 2015 (published by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service), which calculated 28,463,499 people owned a fishing license in that year, 214,011 of anglers in this country suffer from Celiac disease and therefore can’t safely enjoy a good fish fry.

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Flavoring a Rooster Aged for 10 Days


Hang an undressed rooster outside for 10 days?

The idea went against my natural inclinations as both a former line cook and a fisherman. Years of food safety rules and regulations—complete with bi-annual certification tests and multiple kitchen inspections per year—remain engrained in my mind and still largely influence how I handle food during every stage of a meal. Storage temperatures between 40 and 160 degrees Fahrenheit make me nervous, as health code science has labeled this range as the “danger zone,” temperatures where bacteria can potentially grow at a quicker rate.    

As an angler, the thought of allowing guts to sit and stew inside the cavity of any quarry for days on end had my mouth tasting mud (in the metaphorical sense). After all, there is a reason we clean our catch as soon as possible. Innards tend to permeate flesh. Once that happens, they’re spoiled beyond repair, better given as gift to your neighbor’s cat.  Continue reading “Flavoring a Rooster Aged for 10 Days”

Stop Calling Your Buttermilk a Brine, Because It Ain’t

Buttermilk is not a brine, no matter what you add to it. Many cooks, chefs and food experts may initially disagree with me on this statement, but few can argue there are distinct reasons buttermilk works differently than your basic salt-water brine. True: Both, when used properly, improve the overall texture of protein, yet they do so through different means.

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Dual Sport Makes for Delicious Dinner–Squirrel and Pheasant Korean-Style Meatballs

It is the perfect remedy for a strong feather-fur drive — a day spent stalking the edges of maple tree groves and cornfields, bagging both squirrel and pheasant.

Squirrel serves as a delicious supplement to any upland bird meal, because the lean meat complements fowl proteins nicely while also adding its own distinct flavor — what some might compare to chicken or even pork. Continue reading “Dual Sport Makes for Delicious Dinner–Squirrel and Pheasant Korean-Style Meatballs”

Leftover Pheasant Thigh Meat in the Freezer? Try Tacos with Rooster Enchilada Sauce!


We all can’t be pro wing shooters every outing. Sometimes we head home with less-than-pristine harvests. When you can’t justify plucking, there are always other ways to enjoy your bird.

The common pheasant owes its origins to Asia, and, in my opinion, the innate flavor of pheasant accommodates and highlights Eastern spices.

In the history of traditional Mexican and Asian cuisine, there are very few cross-over dishes or methods. Though peanut butter, in regard to sauces, is often associated with Thai dishes, certain traditional Mexican enchilada and tamale sauces incorporate small amounts of peanut butter to enhance their base tomato and chili flavor.

Continue reading “Leftover Pheasant Thigh Meat in the Freezer? Try Tacos with Rooster Enchilada Sauce!”

Turning Morel Luck into Delicious Cuisine

Morel season offers the perfect solution for every hunter, or any outdoors enthusiast for that matter, growing stir-crazy during spring. Morel hunters enjoy all the sights and sounds of the greening season during a romp through woods and bramble thorns in pursuit of a rare treat only decaying roots can produce. After hours of hunting, the sight of those delicious, pale vermiculite lobes sprouting from dirt will send your heart reeling, even alter the pitch of your voice to that of a school girl’s when you yell, “FOUND ONE!”

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Fowl Irish Cream of Mushroom Stew

Rendered duck fat is nothing less than liquid gold. The value lies in its utility, as it serves as a healthier substitute for most oils and margarine, lard and even butter in some situations. Bakers will even substitute rendered waterfowl fat for shortening.
One way to improve your stews: make a duck fat roux. A roux (a combination of flour and any of the following: heated butter, canola oil, hot animal fat) involves cooking flour, while being careful not to burn the roux, in order to create a powerful thickening agent for soups, stews or gumbos. It requires time and patience and a vigilant cook willing to stand over the stovetop and whisk that mess every few minutes.

     There are two options regarding how to finish off this stew. Most recently, I added it to a 9-by-13-inch baking dish for a casserole known as Hotdish (a Minnesota staple, mix of proteins, vegetables and starches), therefore I preferred a gooey mix and never added milk. Should you wish to enjoy this stew as simply stew in a bowl, I advise you add the milk (two cups) to thin out the contents; otherwise your spoon might get a case of the cement shoes.    

   
Fowl Irish Cream of Mushroom Stew
Makes six to eight servings.
Roux: 1/3 cup heated duck fat, 2/3 cup flour
1-1/2 cups shallots, julienne
8 ounces baby Portobello mushrooms, sliced
2 Tablespoons freshly minced garlic
2 Tablespoons butter
1/2 Irish porter beer
3 cups hot chicken stock
1 pint heavy whipping cream
2 cups milk
5-6 ounces grated or shredded Kerrygold Dubliner cheese
2 teaspoons each of salt and black pepper
To start: In large skillet heated on medium-low, add butter, shallots, and garlic, lightly salt and pepper, and sauté until shallots are soft. Add mushrooms. When shallots have very slight brown color, add porter beer and let simmer for 5 minutes. Set aside until roux is complete. 
To make roux: While sautéing shallots and mushrooms, heat 1/3 cup duck fat on medium-low in large pot until it is liquid form and hot. Add 2/3 cup flour. Simultaneously, heat 3 cups of chicken stock until it simmers. Stir roux often to avoid burning. After approximately 10 minutes, roux should be hot (not necessary thick liquid form). Add hot chicken stock and whisk thoroughly.  
To finish stew: Once roux mix is thick and hot (there may be some bits of roux floating, that is okay), add cream and milk and shallot-mushroom mix, plus S&P. Stir thoroughly, keep on low for half hour, add cheese. Heat on low for another half hour (minimum). Serve and enjoy!
Remember: Should you wish to add this stew to a casserole or hotdish, do not add milk. Additionally, for my most recent Dubliner Mallard Hotdish recipe, I did not add full contents of stew (probably a little over 2 cups remained in pot after mixing stew with vegetables and proteins).
Hank Shaw offers an excellent video on the easiest way to render waterfowl fat (spoiler alert, it involves duck butts):

Additionally, should you ever find yourself searing duck breasts in a skillet, make certain to save the oil that accumulates in the pan (as it is nothing other than liquid gold duck fat). Can it. Put it in the fridge. (For a solid recipe on Seared Duck Breasts with a Lemon Ginger Glaze, check out my story with the Pioneer Press’s Outdoors section: http://www.twincities.com/sports/ci_28878247/duck-hunting-dish-worth-effort


Humor: The Great Jake Debacle of Thanksgiving 2012

Others, those involved, may know this incident by another name, for we all suffered in our own ways.
Prosperity often precedes the greatest hardships. An abrupt shift in fortune remains the common component of every tragedy. The “Great Jake Debacle of Thanksgiving 2012” was no different.
 On the morning of the day before Thanksgiving 2012, my good friend Kevin and I sat shivering in the rain, concealed in the bramble of a thorn bush, waiting for turkeys to stir in their roosts and swoop down at sunrise.
      Dawn was near. Rain clouds gradually turned a lighter shade of gray. Blurred shadows in the distance took shape and rows of pine stood delineated in a haze of rain. In the roosts hens started yelping and clucking and soon we were able to make out the vague outline of locked wings coasting to the ground.
Half disappeared over the property line, while the rest moved in a procession along the ridges, toward our spot.  
When they were within range, we each fired two shots, though only one bird dropped and flapped about in the mud. I checked the time on my phone. After four years hunting this property, I knew turkey patterns down to the minute. In a half hour, they would be circling the ridges near the farmer’s cattle pen.
I slowly stalked ridges, drawing closer. From over a hundred yards away, I spotted a line of redheads cresting a hill. I sprinted to catch them on the next ridge, quickly ascended their previous hill, and saw the last bird in the train approaching the top of the next ridge, not far away. I lifted my shotgun, placed the bead of my muzzle on the base of its neck and fired.
The shot sent hundreds of nearby stooped mallards into the sky. They had lifted from muddy cattle fields and now swarmed above the pines. I futilely spent my last two shells in their direction.  
As I picked up my downed jake (immature male turkey), I heard a loud crack—a shot from a hundred yards away that echoed vibrantly along the ridges. I circled back to Kevin to find him holding the neck of his turkey hen in one hand, the neck of a hen mallard in the other.
In his laziness and indifference, Kevin handed me the duck to dress and pluck. So I did. I spent nearly two hours at home afterward plucking the birds, though I left the jake—at least 15 pounds—unfinished.
The next day our close group of friends gathered early in the morning for Thanksgiving. My good friend Scott and I drank High Life well before noon and together finished plucking my jake.

(Packer fandom forgiven during plucking) 

Another friend Amanda had received a domestic turkey from work. While that bird would serve as dinner, this jake was intended to serve as a snacking bird during football.
I lacquered teriyaki sauce over every flank, started a heap of coals in a chimney starter. I tossed the coals in my buddy Gabe’s Weber and threw a gallon of wet applewood chips atop and placed my sauced jake on the grate and started smoking the bird with minimal ventilation.

(Grill Mishap Suspect Number 1: Gabe)

Yet, somewhere amid the beer drinking and football, someone (possibly even myself) got a little too handsy with the grill vents. I came out an hour later to find plumes of fire spilling out the sides of the grill. I immediately removed the lid and used two sets of tongs to lift the grate and take my jake off the flames. Its entire backside was charred, though the front side seemed untouched.
I added more coals, more chips, re-adjusted the vents and placed the jake back in the grill to finish smoking. I was determined to salvage this harvest.
Later, presentation-side up, my smoked jake was a work of art, sitting on its platter for all to sample during football.
Many did, while others opted to wait for domestic turkey.
Amanda returned home from work and everyone, having brought their own dish to share, began prepping and reheating their contributions in the early afternoon. Gabe and I had the bright idea, with Kevin’s duck, to make a turducken this year. We crammed a store-bought chicken inside the cavity of that domestic turkey, followed by wild duck inside that chicken, and started roasting.

(Roasting the perfect, slightly wild turducken)

Scott’s contribution was an expired can of cranberry sauce, the first ominous piece in the painful mystery that would ensue.
It should be noted: Scott has a propensity for consuming expired goods. Prior to his wedding, his wife’s uncle had stockpiled cases of Hamm’s and brought the beer to share at the ceremony. Scott, not wanting one drop to go to waste, brought the remaining beer home with him and, even for months afterward, continued to drink and offer guests expired Hamm’s. He seemed offended when we grimaced while drinking.

(A Hamm’s man)


Scott was the first to get sick. After dinner, we listened to him violently disgorge his meal upstairs in the spare bathroom. My wife, Dara, and Amanda went upstairs to help.
Was it the cranberry sauce? We all laughed at his bravado, as he was the only one willing to dollop that purple gelatin atop his plate. He even sat with a posture of arrogance during dinner, stoutly dismissing every advocacy for caution.

(Patient Zero: Scott)

      Later that night, after we all had gone our separate ways, I woke to a severe pain in my stomach. My wife darkened our bedroom doorway, informing me she herself had just thrown up.
      It felt like razor blades were coursing through my intestines, though I never vomited.
      The next day we learned Amanda had been throwing up, while her husband, Gabe, also experienced similar pains to me. Our other friend, Sam, also expressed he wasn’t feeling well.
       Maybe it wasn’t the cranberry sauce? Was it the wild turkey? The turducken? My wife’s stuffing? My mashed potatoes? Whenever we thought we had narrowed it down, someone else would advise that they never tried that particular dish. Amanda never had the wild turkey. Sam never touched the turducken since he left early. There was no one constant among us.
        My wife later suggested Scott may have contracted the Norovirus during his recent business trip to Vancouver, since there was an outbreak of the virus there. But then why did all the guys (not including Scott) experience gut-wrenching pain and never vomit?
So many variables. The cause remains a mystery to this day. Still, perhaps the greatest tragedy was the pounds of leftovers that were viewed as suspects, never to be cherished twice. My jake—bigger than most toms, a true beauty—with sizeable portions of meat still remaining, was destined for the trash.
The idea itself of scraping baking pans packed with mounds of Thanksgiving staples into the garbage was nothing less than painful. They remained in our refrigerators for days, for we couldn’t quite bring ourselves to part with them.
Eventually, we simply had to.
Is there a lesson to be learned here? Hard to say when the root of the problem is still unknown. Regardless, to avoid food poisoning, here are some basic Thanksgiving tips:

·         Thaw your bird under cold running water, not at room temperature on the countertop. Bacteria grows rapidly in raw poultry at room temperature.
·         Always use an accurate meat thermometer to make certain the deepest part of the turkey breast reaches 165 degrees. Also check the inner-most portion of the thigh.
·         Cook your stuffing in a baking pan with chicken stock, not inside the cavity of the bird. That egg and bread mix, when stuffed inside the cavity of a bird, takes a very long time to cook adequately. Either your bird will dry out in the process or you will remove early when the stuffing hasn’t finished cooking. Uncooked stuffing presents a very high risk of food poisoning.
·         Be careful when “sanitizing” your countertops and work space, since sometimes old rags and sponges contain germs and will actually spread germs rather than disinfect. Use fresh towels or towelettes, perhaps even a sanitizer solution of bleach and water (1 teaspoon to 1 tablespoon of bleach per gallon of water—NO MORE).
·         Finish your mashed potatoes well ahead of schedule or right before dinner, since that hot mix of potatoes and heavy cream will grow bacteria after cooked and left at room temperature. Either cook and refrigerate for several hours then reheat, or add the cream and mix shortly before serving, making certain the mashed potatoes stay between 140 to 165 degrees until put away, uncovered, in the refrigerator to cool. Mashed potatoes and stuffing are the leading causes of food poisoning on Thanksgiving.
·         Finally, don’t eat expired shit.

Who says Thanksgiving has to be turkey? Brandy apple-glazed pheasant will suffice.

      This is my favorite time of year—when the air turns just as crisp as the falling leaves. Sunlight has a softer quality to it, almost as if filtered through olive oil. For us bird hunters, all these signs mean just one thing: pheasant season is finally here.

      After a successful hunt, when it comes to dinner, the taste of pheasant itself ranks in the top tier for wild fowl.  

Whenever possible, I believe plucking every bird is a worthwhile endeavor, as the skin seals in juices and flavor while roasting.
Dry plucking requires time and patience, and perhaps a blow torch to singe smaller leftover feathers. There is also the option of dunking birds in steaming water and paraffin wax, then cooling under cold water and plucking. 
 Brining is also an important step, since soaking proteins in a salt-water solution for at least 24 hours reduces moisture loss during cooking by up to 15 percent. The end result is one succulent, flavorful bird.
 The sweet brandy apple glaze is a hint of autumn desert during dinner. Apply as liberally as you choose, but make certain to save room for pumpkin pie.
Makes four servings.
1 whole pheasant, 3 1/2 to 4 pounds, skin on. 
Pheasant brine:
1  1/2 gallons water
1 cup non-iodized salt
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup black pepper
7 sprigs fresh rosemary
1/2 large bulb of garlic, cloves peeled and smashed
2 honeycrisp apples, sliced
1 lemon, sliced and juiced
4 ounces fresh ginger, smashed
Brandy apple glaze:
1 Tablespoon butter
1 cup shallots, julienne
1  1/2 tablespoons freshly minced garlic
1  1/2 ounces brandy
1/2 tablespoon white wine vinegar
3 cups chicken stock
3/4 cup apple cider
3 tablespoons apple butter
2 tablespoons honey
4 teaspoons salt
To roast pheasant: Once pheasant has sat completely covered by brine in fridge for 24 hours, preheat oven to 450 degrees. Rinse pheasant, pat dry. If possible, truss bird. Lightly salt and pepper all sides. Cook pheasant, breast side up, at 450 degrees for 25 minutes, turn oven down to 350 degrees. Cover breast side of pheasant with sliced apples from brine. Cook for another 40-50 minutes. Check for an internal temperature of 160 degrees before removing. 
To make glaze: Start once pheasant is inserted into oven. Sautee shallots and garlic in butter on medium heat until shallots are soft and slightly browned. Deglaze with brandy, add vinegar, simmer for one minute before adding remaining ingredients. Cook on medium to medium-high for approximately 35 minutes or until liquids have reduced to one third. Stir often. Turn heat to simmer, and continue reducing until glaze acquires viscid texture and dark brown color (approximately another 10 minutes). Keep on low until ready to serve. 
To serve: Let roasted pheasant sit for five minutes. You may choose to remove apples or keep them atop skin. As well, you have the option to glaze pheasant as it cools, or wait until it is carved to drizzle glaze overtop individual servings.