In My Mother's Kitchen: Venison Stew
Hunting season for deer in my home state of North Dakota started on Friday, November 6. The start of deer season was one of the major unofficial holidays of the calendar when I was growing up. I'd say that in neighboring Minnesota the first day of fishing season was a bigger occasion, but in North Dakota they were pretty close to even.
My father started going deer hunting back when we lived in Montana. My recollection is that in Montana he went to a hunting cabin with a group of men, and that while deer hunting certainly happened so did some cards and a few adult beverages. I don't remember him getting a deer any of those years.
In North Dakota, hunting season had two major components for my father. First, a month of so before the start of the season he and his friend Charlie would go sight in their rifles with some target shooting. Charlie had worked with my father before his retirement and was an avid outdoorsman. Charlie loved to fish, and several times took us out on his boat. He also enjoyed hunting, so he and Dad would use the imminent start of the season as an opportunity to fire off some rounds at bottles and cans while enjoying a day outside.
The second part of hunting season was the hunting itself. My father somehow met an older couple up in Pembina (EDIT: my sister says it was Edinburg, which is nearby) who gave him permission to hunt their land. The land in question was a big chunk of farmland with a creek bottom running through it. Most years my father would stake out a spot on top of cliff overlooking the bottom lands and wait for a deer to wander by. More often than not, one did. My father would shoot it with his single-shot 30.06, and that was that. Occasionally he missed, and once he only wounded the deer and had to go after it. He was extremely aggravated with himself after that trip. He had an improvised sled he would use to haul the deer back to the truck. For many years he would butcher the deer himself, which meant that if you showed up at our house that weekend you'd see a deer hanging from the rafters of the garage. He later opted to have professionals do it for a fee. Either way, the giant chest freezer in the basement would be filled with venison for months afterwards.
Another important part of the hunting trip was lunch with his hosts. The farmer passed away when I was young, but his widow strongly encouraged Dad and everyone who hunted their land to stop by for lunch, which was usually extensive. Dad usually went opening weekend, and if he didn't get a deer right away he'd return in subsequent weekends until he had better luck or until the weather wasn't favorable enough to continue. If he happened to get lunch several times out of it, that was fine with him.
I only went hunting with him once that I can recall. I was not a particularly good shot, and while I liked being outdoors I didn't have the patience to sit there all day in the usually cold weather. My sister was a much better shot, and I believe she went a few times.
The last few years my father lived in North Dakota he didn't get to go hunting because a disease struck the local deer population and made numbers plummet so much that they started having lottos for tags, and he was shut out of the lotto several years running. This was a far cry from earlier years when it was possible to get multiple tags for a single season. Now that he lives in PA, he was able to get a tag and actually already got a deer this year during the 'senior' season. He was helped extensively in this by a local hunter he made the acquaintance of who showed him exactly where to go and more or less predicted exactly what would happen. Dad has another tag for later in the year.
If he does get a second deer, that's a lot of venison for two people. Once my sister and I left home, my parents often would forgo buying beef during the winter because they had so much venison on hand. They would occasionally bring some venison with them in a cooler when they came to visit me, which I always used to make this recipe.
Venison Stew
2 pounds venison, cut into 1" chunks
Salt & Pepper to taste
2 tbsp oil or butter
3 ribs celery
1/2 cup chopped onions
2 minced garlic cloves
1 tbsp chopped parsley
1 8oz can tomato sauce
1 8ox can French Onion soup
OR 1/2 envelope French Onion Soup mix + 1/2 cup water
OR, I suppose, 8oz home-made French Onion soup
1 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp dried basil
4 potatoes, chunked
4 carrots, chunked
1. Salt & pepper venison to taste.
2. Brown venison in oil (or butter).
3. Add venison to crock pot with all other ingredients. Cook for 4 hours on low or 2 hours on high.
My mother gave me this recipe, but my mother also didn't have a crock pot. She probably made it on the stove. I don't actually have clear memories of her even making this when I was growing up; my memories run more toward venison steaks. In any event, I can't tell you which cut of venison makes the most sense for this, as I would just take whatever my parents gave me and use that.
When I gave up red meat I specifically stated that venison was still permissible, seeing as it isn't causing environmental damage via factory farming and most of the country has a glut of deer. M, on the other hand, has zero interest in venison, so even though I'm sure my father would be happy to give me some, I'd only be cooking for myself if I made it. Since I can only remember having venison in a restaurant twice, once in Italy and once when they had venison burgers at Buckeye, and I don't think I know anyone besides my father who hunts, maybe I should take it when I can get it.
My father started going deer hunting back when we lived in Montana. My recollection is that in Montana he went to a hunting cabin with a group of men, and that while deer hunting certainly happened so did some cards and a few adult beverages. I don't remember him getting a deer any of those years.
In North Dakota, hunting season had two major components for my father. First, a month of so before the start of the season he and his friend Charlie would go sight in their rifles with some target shooting. Charlie had worked with my father before his retirement and was an avid outdoorsman. Charlie loved to fish, and several times took us out on his boat. He also enjoyed hunting, so he and Dad would use the imminent start of the season as an opportunity to fire off some rounds at bottles and cans while enjoying a day outside.
The second part of hunting season was the hunting itself. My father somehow met an older couple up in Pembina (EDIT: my sister says it was Edinburg, which is nearby) who gave him permission to hunt their land. The land in question was a big chunk of farmland with a creek bottom running through it. Most years my father would stake out a spot on top of cliff overlooking the bottom lands and wait for a deer to wander by. More often than not, one did. My father would shoot it with his single-shot 30.06, and that was that. Occasionally he missed, and once he only wounded the deer and had to go after it. He was extremely aggravated with himself after that trip. He had an improvised sled he would use to haul the deer back to the truck. For many years he would butcher the deer himself, which meant that if you showed up at our house that weekend you'd see a deer hanging from the rafters of the garage. He later opted to have professionals do it for a fee. Either way, the giant chest freezer in the basement would be filled with venison for months afterwards.
Another important part of the hunting trip was lunch with his hosts. The farmer passed away when I was young, but his widow strongly encouraged Dad and everyone who hunted their land to stop by for lunch, which was usually extensive. Dad usually went opening weekend, and if he didn't get a deer right away he'd return in subsequent weekends until he had better luck or until the weather wasn't favorable enough to continue. If he happened to get lunch several times out of it, that was fine with him.
I only went hunting with him once that I can recall. I was not a particularly good shot, and while I liked being outdoors I didn't have the patience to sit there all day in the usually cold weather. My sister was a much better shot, and I believe she went a few times.
The last few years my father lived in North Dakota he didn't get to go hunting because a disease struck the local deer population and made numbers plummet so much that they started having lottos for tags, and he was shut out of the lotto several years running. This was a far cry from earlier years when it was possible to get multiple tags for a single season. Now that he lives in PA, he was able to get a tag and actually already got a deer this year during the 'senior' season. He was helped extensively in this by a local hunter he made the acquaintance of who showed him exactly where to go and more or less predicted exactly what would happen. Dad has another tag for later in the year.
If he does get a second deer, that's a lot of venison for two people. Once my sister and I left home, my parents often would forgo buying beef during the winter because they had so much venison on hand. They would occasionally bring some venison with them in a cooler when they came to visit me, which I always used to make this recipe.
Venison Stew
2 pounds venison, cut into 1" chunks
Salt & Pepper to taste
2 tbsp oil or butter
3 ribs celery
1/2 cup chopped onions
2 minced garlic cloves
1 tbsp chopped parsley
1 8oz can tomato sauce
1 8ox can French Onion soup
OR 1/2 envelope French Onion Soup mix + 1/2 cup water
OR, I suppose, 8oz home-made French Onion soup
1 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp dried basil
4 potatoes, chunked
4 carrots, chunked
1. Salt & pepper venison to taste.
2. Brown venison in oil (or butter).
3. Add venison to crock pot with all other ingredients. Cook for 4 hours on low or 2 hours on high.
My mother gave me this recipe, but my mother also didn't have a crock pot. She probably made it on the stove. I don't actually have clear memories of her even making this when I was growing up; my memories run more toward venison steaks. In any event, I can't tell you which cut of venison makes the most sense for this, as I would just take whatever my parents gave me and use that.
When I gave up red meat I specifically stated that venison was still permissible, seeing as it isn't causing environmental damage via factory farming and most of the country has a glut of deer. M, on the other hand, has zero interest in venison, so even though I'm sure my father would be happy to give me some, I'd only be cooking for myself if I made it. Since I can only remember having venison in a restaurant twice, once in Italy and once when they had venison burgers at Buckeye, and I don't think I know anyone besides my father who hunts, maybe I should take it when I can get it.