MY VENISON LIFE

               Our friend, Ryan, made a batch of venison stew and sent some over.

               His stew is much better than anything I ever made and it got me

               thinking.

               My late husband, Michael, was the most unlikely hunter. A Jewish
               kid from Washington Heights, he went to Bronx High School of
               Science.   He became a New York lawyer whose trial and
               appellate firm represented people who, for the most part, would have
               been against hunting anything, ever.

               Michael had a large collection of guns and was a terrific shot. He shot

               birds including turkeys and pheasants and, at deer season, he had a

               special stand in the woods -- quite a luxurious arrangement fitted,
               I think, with a heat source.

               He hunted almost every deer season at Martha's Vineyard with friends.

               "Meat" at the Vineyard in those days, meant venison. It could also mean

               goose breast, but usually it meant venison. Many times, it was eaten

               so rare there was red ooze dripping down someone's beard. Freezers

               were always full of venison -- cut, wrapped and labeled by an itinerant 

               butcher.

               

               My mother's people were farmers and for them also, venison was "meat."

               In those days, there were no freezers, so the venison was canned and I

               remember my Aunt Mary dumping the contents of a large Mason jar

               into a hot frying pan, letting it brown and then serving it up with potatoes

               and gravy. 

               My father, also a city boy, had all the gear for deer hunting. He kept a

               deer rifle under the bed and his pre-synthetic hunting clothing included

               a black and red Macintosh that must have weighed ten pounds. His

               hunting boots were enormous, heavy things that laced way up. I don't

               remember his ever "getting" a deer but if he had, my mother would have

               known what to do with it.

               The best way for me to approach venison was to make it into a stew. I

               started with bacon and onion and garlic, then added carrot and parsnip 

               and then the venison and some beef broth and a little red wine. 

               I may have put something else in the pot -- I can't remember. But I do 

               know this: the venison was always overcooked and dried out even in 

               the stew. I made it whenever Michael brought venison home but I 

               never dared to go beyond stew and maybe this is too bad.

               Our old friend, Angus Cameron, wrote a game cookbook and he included

               a recipe for venison with boysenberry jam. Like lamb, venison is

               often accompanied with a flavorful sweet.