My husband comes from a long line of outdoors men. Hunting, fishing, farming. They are true Wisconsinites.
I, on the other hand, come from city folk. Wisconsinites just the same, but certainly not outdoorsy. My father took me camping all of three times in my entire life, and fishing just as much. My grandpa taught me how to filet a bluegill one summer, but that was the extent of my survival techniques.
So when I was integrated in to my husband's family, long before we were married, I was given a crash course in all the wonderful things about living off the land. Gardening, canning, and, yes, processing deer.
My first chance to witness this was a grand occasion. I was 18, and 6 months pregnant with my little man. It was the middle of a Wisconsin winter. All the uncles, some aunts, and a few cousins had all been out hunting that day. They brought home between 3 and 5 deer. I can't remember anymore, maybe it was more than that. Anyway, the skinning and quartering took place out in the garage at grandma's house, where it was good and cold. Then, the quarters were brought into the house, and put down on a big wooden board right on top of the kitchen table.
The house was stuffy, smelly, and hot; from the tenderloins cooking on the stove, from the water bath canner processing batch after batch of venison, from all the warm bodies milling about. A good dozen people all buzzing in and out of the house, working away at getting it all "put up".
Everyone took on a job. Around the table, a few family members gathered to whittle away at each hunk. Cutting meat from bone. Cubing pieces for jars, or scraps for burger. Portioning out the good cuts for freezing. Seasoning the full jars and getting them ready for the canner. Cooking the tenderloins on the stove top so we could all enjoy the spoils we worked for. Running meat into, and then bone out of, the house. It was an amazing experience. One that consumed my senses and, surprisingly, fascinated me.
Of course, Grandma and my mother in law, welcomed me to a seat at the table and I was given lessons. I certainly wasn't going to let them down. I already loved his family. They were the only TRUE family I had ever witnessed and they were welcoming and kind to me when they had every reason not to be. I wanted to fit in with this strong (and hairy) family, and they were willing to let me try. So I swallowed my nausea, put a smile on my face and a knife in my hand. I got to do a little bit of everything, and I loved it. Mostly, I loved the feeling in the house. The feeling of working as a family to provide for the family.
Fast forward 10 years, My husband had finally found a place in Texas to hunt. They were tiny Texas deer, but they were deer. And I was excited!! We all were. We hadn't had venison in years, and our mouths were watering at the thought. Of course, we had to think about how we were gonna get it from animal to plate, but I was eager to take that head on! So after a few calls to the in laws, and a couple youtube videos, I felt prepared to cut up my first deer. Alone.
My husband was going to be anything but helpful, and I didn't feel like he had to be. After all, he's the one who sat in the cold for hours, the one who field dressed, skinned, quartered, and hauled it home....I should do some work too.
When he got a deer, it was about the size of a German shepherd, but it was deer. I felt like it was a good size to practice on.
I had no clue what I had gotten my self into. Once that leg was on my kitchen counter, I picked up the phone again, and again, and again.
I have to say how much I love my in laws. They are a patient bunch, that's for sure, and they love sharing their knowledge. I am blessed to have them.
After 4 hrs, I had fumbled my way though all parts of that deer. Did I screw up the steaks? yep. Did I screw up one of the tenderloins? yep. Did it all taste amazing? Sure did!
Really, I couldn't go wrong. I canned 90% of it, and froze the other 10%, just as my husband's family have been doing for decades.
Now, I know it isn't recommended to can meat in a water bath canner. So I'm gonna say, right now, don't do as do, do as I say, and don't do it!
The second deer he got went a little better. It only took me 3 hours.
Did I screw up the steaks? YEP!
I, on the other hand, come from city folk. Wisconsinites just the same, but certainly not outdoorsy. My father took me camping all of three times in my entire life, and fishing just as much. My grandpa taught me how to filet a bluegill one summer, but that was the extent of my survival techniques.
So when I was integrated in to my husband's family, long before we were married, I was given a crash course in all the wonderful things about living off the land. Gardening, canning, and, yes, processing deer.
My first chance to witness this was a grand occasion. I was 18, and 6 months pregnant with my little man. It was the middle of a Wisconsin winter. All the uncles, some aunts, and a few cousins had all been out hunting that day. They brought home between 3 and 5 deer. I can't remember anymore, maybe it was more than that. Anyway, the skinning and quartering took place out in the garage at grandma's house, where it was good and cold. Then, the quarters were brought into the house, and put down on a big wooden board right on top of the kitchen table.
The house was stuffy, smelly, and hot; from the tenderloins cooking on the stove, from the water bath canner processing batch after batch of venison, from all the warm bodies milling about. A good dozen people all buzzing in and out of the house, working away at getting it all "put up".
Everyone took on a job. Around the table, a few family members gathered to whittle away at each hunk. Cutting meat from bone. Cubing pieces for jars, or scraps for burger. Portioning out the good cuts for freezing. Seasoning the full jars and getting them ready for the canner. Cooking the tenderloins on the stove top so we could all enjoy the spoils we worked for. Running meat into, and then bone out of, the house. It was an amazing experience. One that consumed my senses and, surprisingly, fascinated me.
Of course, Grandma and my mother in law, welcomed me to a seat at the table and I was given lessons. I certainly wasn't going to let them down. I already loved his family. They were the only TRUE family I had ever witnessed and they were welcoming and kind to me when they had every reason not to be. I wanted to fit in with this strong (and hairy) family, and they were willing to let me try. So I swallowed my nausea, put a smile on my face and a knife in my hand. I got to do a little bit of everything, and I loved it. Mostly, I loved the feeling in the house. The feeling of working as a family to provide for the family.
Fast forward 10 years, My husband had finally found a place in Texas to hunt. They were tiny Texas deer, but they were deer. And I was excited!! We all were. We hadn't had venison in years, and our mouths were watering at the thought. Of course, we had to think about how we were gonna get it from animal to plate, but I was eager to take that head on! So after a few calls to the in laws, and a couple youtube videos, I felt prepared to cut up my first deer. Alone.
My husband was going to be anything but helpful, and I didn't feel like he had to be. After all, he's the one who sat in the cold for hours, the one who field dressed, skinned, quartered, and hauled it home....I should do some work too.
When he got a deer, it was about the size of a German shepherd, but it was deer. I felt like it was a good size to practice on.
I had no clue what I had gotten my self into. Once that leg was on my kitchen counter, I picked up the phone again, and again, and again.
I have to say how much I love my in laws. They are a patient bunch, that's for sure, and they love sharing their knowledge. I am blessed to have them.
After 4 hrs, I had fumbled my way though all parts of that deer. Did I screw up the steaks? yep. Did I screw up one of the tenderloins? yep. Did it all taste amazing? Sure did!
Really, I couldn't go wrong. I canned 90% of it, and froze the other 10%, just as my husband's family have been doing for decades.
Now, I know it isn't recommended to can meat in a water bath canner. So I'm gonna say, right now, don't do as do, do as I say, and don't do it!
The second deer he got went a little better. It only took me 3 hours.
Did I screw up the steaks? YEP!
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