Читать книгу Never Cry Halibut. and Other Alaska Hunting and Fishing Tales онлайн

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A late-season Sitka blacktail.

For many folks, me included, hunting is easier and more enjoyable than cooking. During a lot of my teens and early twenties, I’d kill an animal, bring it home, and go to town on chunks of meat much like a bear or wolf. Thinking about those times makes me nostalgic and brings back the memory of one November when I subsisted almost entirely on caribou and coffee (it seemed to make sense at the time, but in retrospect, I do not recommend this diet). A girl, perhaps feeling sorry for me, agreed to have dinner. Seeing only a dirty mug of coffee and a big piece of meat on her plate, she started acting nervous. I tried to calm her by offering more meat. She mentioned something about a forgotten engagement she needed to attend at that moment.

“These are civilized times,” a friend advised after. “Girls like things like recipes, marinades, and tenderized meat. As a meat hunter, you need to evolve.”

Change scared me. One day you’re perfectly content with caribou, coffee, and an outhouse, then you start doing weird things like using marinades and tenderizing meat. Before you know it, you’re fretting over which set of floral towels best compliments your bathroom’s wallpaper. Yet I couldn’t deny how much better tasting and tender meat was when I took a couple extra minutes to cut away the sinew and filament. Soon I was experimenting with marinades and recipes; I embarked on one culinary odyssey after another that all ended happily in my belly.