I never met the man who provided us with that bounty every year. All I remember is my dad injecting the big hunks of meat with beef fat to “make it tender”. I’m not even sure if my parents shared this delicacy with me and my brother. We probably weren’t worthy.
It’s hard to avoid hunting when you live in North Idaho. My first job when I moved to Moscow was at the University of Idaho. I was amazed that the whole physical plant basically shut down for the first week of hunting season (which I now understand was the first week of rifle season for deer, not the actual first week deer season which began weeks before with archery season).
It wasn’t until I moved to Sandpoint that I actually got to go hunting. I had hinted around to my hunter friends during the 15 years I lived in Moscow that I wanted someone to teach me what it meant to be a hunter, but no one ever took me seriously. It wasn’t until I told my then boyfriend, Jon, I wanted to see if I had what it takes to kill what I was going to eat for dinner, that I got to carry a gun through the woods.
So far, that’s what hunting has been for me: a really observant walk through the woods with a shotgun. And I kinda like it. Sure, it’s usually cold and, to date, I have seen maybe a couple of dozen grouse (the only animal I’ve hunted so far) and shot just one but there is something about making your way silently through the woods with your eye’s peeled for any movement that is very appealing.
Jon gave me his uncle’s 410 shotgun. It’s old and heavy and doesn’t shoot very far but I like carrying it and thinking about all the woods it’s traveled through and all the birds it’s shot. It doesn’t have a safety so I am extra aware of all my movements. The heightened awareness of myself and my surroundings makes taking my gun for a walk in the woods a special and enjoyable experience.
Of course, there’s the part where you start to think about the fact that you are out there actively looking to kill something. That was the part I wasn’t sure I could do. Modern society has created a disconnect between us and where our food comes from. Most people don’t think about the fact that their burger was once a cow and that someone had to kill it in order for them to enjoy their meal.
I’m sure many of the people I grew up with think that hunting is a cruel sport and people shouldn’t do it. They are, however, probably perfectly content to eat bacon from a CAFO (confined animal feeding operation) pig who spent its brief miserable life in a cage not quite big enough to turn around in.
If I’m going to eat meat (and I have no plans on becoming a vegetarian any time soon) I want to know that the meat I am eating had a good life before it got to my table.
What better way to know that for sure then to be a part of that animal’s world for a morning. The one grouse I shot in my brief experience as a hunter never knew what happened. He was just doing his thing, eating leaves and berries when Jon and I saw him. Then he was dead.
Having never killed a warm blooded animal before, I was amazed that I could do it. The grouse was beautiful; I’d never really had a close up look at one before. The feathers were gorgeous and he was still warm. I got all mushy and thanked him for giving his life to feed me. Then I picked him up by his feet and went looking for more.
I’ve gone grouse hunting a couple of times each season for the past three years. I’ve shot one grouse in that time. I’ve accompanied Jon deer hunting once (having no rifle of my own and having been completely flummoxed by the salesman about what type of rifle I should consider buying, I just tagged along with my shotgun in case we ran into some grouse). It’s not the same as grouse hunting. There’s a lot of sitting and waiting for deer. It’s a much colder proposition. I’m not sure I’m a fan. Most of the time I was sitting still, all I could think about was that I could have been knitting instead. This is not the Zen mindset you need to be a good deer hunter. I am sure that I could shoot a deer and gut it and butcher it. I just don’t think I could stand the cold and the lack of knitting needles.
For now I’ll stick to hunting birds. Besides, I’ve just begun to explore the culinary possibilities of grouse.
Grouse Breast in White Wine and Lime Sauce
Serves 4
6 grouse breast halves
1 lime
½ c. flour
Salt and pepper to taste
2 T. olive oil
2 cloves of garlic, minced
¼ c. slivered almonds
2 T. brown sugar
½ c. chicken broth
½ c. white wine
Preheat oven to 350 F. Wash the grouse and pat dry. Set aside. Zest the lime then squeeze out the juice. Pour the juice over the grouse breasts and reserve the zest. Place the flour on a plate and mix in salt and pepper to taste. Heat the oil in a frying pan over medium-high heat and sauté the garlic until soft. Meanwhile, dredge the grouse in flour on both sides until thoroughly coated. Add the grouse to the pan and brown on both sides. Remove the grouse to a baking dish. Combine the lime zest, slivered almonds and brown sugar and sprinkle over the grouse. Add the broth and wine and cover the dish with foil. Bake for 45 minutes. Remove foil and bake an additional 15 minutes. Serve hot with a side of jasmine rice.
