Wrapping things up

About a month ago, I got a call from Bob to say that my gun had sold, and I could come down for the money he owed me. He paid me in one hundred dollar bills. It felt funny to have that much cash in my wallet, because of the bigness of it, but also knowing it represented the end of something. I stuck it in the bank right away.

Bob told me that the new owner was a game warden, that the gun had "found a good home."

Meanwhile, the pig is still with us. I'm making pulled pork sandwiches tomorrow, and I still have enough shoulder meat for another meal of carnitas. I have sausages and liver left too. In case you're wondering, yes, we do have a freezer.

Another part of the pig has been in the freezer all this time: his pelt. When I came back home from the hunt, I had all the butchering and sausage-making to do, so I just salted and froze the pelt, with the plan that I would figure out what to do about a tanner later.

Later has arrived. Tomorrow, I am driving to a tannery in San Leandro with the frozen pelt. Most wild boar are solid black, but as you see, mine was dappled, so I want to get it tanned with the fur on.

When I wrote earlier that the pig is still with us, and then proceeded to list the meat that I still have, I was only accounting for one aspect of the pig's impact on me. I need also to mention the following:

• Before my hunt, I was eating only fish, and I had problems with borderline anemia. My iron level has returned to normal thanks to eating the meat that the pig gave me, so the pig has changed my physical self as I have taken him in.
• I feel connected to the pig every time I begin preparing a meal that includes some of the pig in it. I remember holding and handling the pig, and the meal becomes an extension of the promise I made to the pig to take care of and responsibility for him. So the pig has changed my spiritual and emotional self as I have taken him in.

The pig changed and is changing me. I will never be the same. I think that, once we have eaten all the meat that the pig gave us, the tanned pelt will be a wonderful reminder of this most generous creature.

Gun for Sale

Today I contacted Bob over at the Old West Gun Room and asked about how to sell my gun. It means the end to my hunting adventure.

I've been thinking about it for a while. At first, I thought I might try to find someone else who shared my perspective on responsible meat-eating and who might also want to go hunting with me. But, meanwhile, I couldn't help thinking about the fractured arguments that my Hunter Education instructors had used to justify hunting. The role of hunting in wildlife conservation, they said, is the "harvest of surplus animals" (my emphasis). In other words, any animal population that is under management can be allowed to increase in order to create a role for hunting.

It made me wonder if the ranchers who rent out their land for pig hunts are encouraging the pigs so that the pig hunters will be attracted to their ranches. They claim to hate the pigs, but have they created a "hunting surplus?" If so, maybe that's the kind of hunt I went on.

People who have heard about my pig hunting ask me whether or when I'm going to go hunting again. As the months have gone by since that November day when I brought down the pig, it's become clearer to me that I don't want to spend any more time with guns or with hunters.

I had a very deep experience with that pig, and actually, it continues to unfold every time we sit down to a meal made with some of the pig's flesh. I don't regret what I did. I know I was mindful and respectful, but I think when this pig is gone, the most respectful thing for me to do is to find an ethical pork farmer and buy a farm-raised pig from her or him.

So, if you know anyone who wants to buy a nice, well-kept rifle, tell them to see Bob.

More thanks to go around

Thanksgiving marks the one year anniversary of my blog. Last year I started things off by giving the menu for our 100-mile meal. That was an ambitious feast, rather too ambitious. (The crab stew really sent things over the top.) By the end of Thanksgiving day, I was exhausted from two solid days of cooking, and I hadn't had time to socialize with the people with whom I shared the meal. I knew that I couldn't do something like that again.

Happily, an alternative appeared: a friend of ours who had been joining us for Thanksgiving for years said she would be interested in co-hosting. And even though I've been putting on Thanksgiving dinners single-handedly for something like 25 years, I agreed to this idea. That's how tired I'd gotten! She and I have been working out the details over this past year. Roughly speaking, we're each making half of the meal, with our guests bringing some extras.

It's been an exercise in letting go. Also, in grabbing back and then letting go all over again. At times, this has felt painful, as though I were losing something precious. At other times, I've been able to relax and see that I am gaining time and space, and maybe other things too.

All this "working well with others" includes the pig. He will definitely be a presence at the table. My co-host and one of the guests have told me that they've talked about the wild boar meal they will be eating for Thanksgiving, and they are getting a positive, even envious, response from their friends. I am really looking forward to sharing the pig.

We're having wild boar pâté along with a seasonal vegetable and fruit plate as appetizers. The main dishes will be wild boar ribs (my contribution) and a roast chicken with stuffing (my co-host's). We are both gardeners, and so from our gardens we'll have chard, cauliflower, and potatoes (mashed). We'll also have sweet potatoes,  a pomegranate relish, and a green salad. For dessert, we'll be having an apple crisp and a pumpkin pie. This year I grew Long Island Cheese Squash for their reputed excellence. (Back in August, I was worried that I wouldn't have enough squash for Thanksgiving pie, but the pollination intervention did the trick!) So, the extra-long table (thanks to Iris's ingenuity!) will groan with bounty, as you can see.

This Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for so many things, a list that is too long to go into here. But let me simply say that one thing I am deeply thankful for is that I won't be sitting down to the Thanksgiving table all tuckered out.

Giving thanks

When I looked down at the 220 pound boar I had just shot and killed, I was filled with awe and gratitude to this animal that had just given itself over to me. I had brought the pig down with my first shot, one shot directly to his lungs, killing him almost instantly. This is what I had been taught to do and, somehow, although the scene had been chaotic, I managed to do it. I knew it was true, and yet it was hard to believe.

I found instantly that, having killed the boar, I was not afraid of him, or repulsed by him. Instead, I felt somehow close to him. I immediately felt easy about touching his body, which was a good thing, because very soon, I had to help move his body, and then I performed a procedure called "field dressing." This means the removal of the internal organs. It is done in order to cool the body temperature so as to preserve the meat. I had prepared for this, and I had our guide showing me the way.

Even so, cutting through the layers of membranes and then slowly revealing the miraculous beauty of this creature's inner makeup was astonishing. At a certain point, my task was to reach into the chest cavity in order to cut the diaphragm free. I needed to do this with both my arms. It was that kind of experience, and it went on from there.

After the field dressing, the guide and I dragged the body to the 4-wheel drive vehicle, and we drove to the skinning shed. There he and I skinned what I really now started to think of as a carcass. The guide then quartered it. This made it into pieces small enough to get into my cooler.

I came back home that night and the next day started butchering those big pieces into pork chops, tenderloin roasts, ribs, packages of pork shoulder, and so forth. Tomorrow, I'm going to make sausages with the leg meat, because I don't have a smoker to make ham, and wild pigs don't have enough fat to produce the right meat for bacon.

Knowing where this meat came from, where the pig lived and what he ate, informs how I feel about all the meat I have in the freezer now. The pig has changed me.

Thank you pig.

The hunt approaches

I am in the final days before my first hunt. There is certainly the possibility that this will also be my last hunt, because I am open to the possibility that the whole experience of killing a large animal and then gutting and preparing its carcass to be eaten will be more than I want to repeat. This is something I will be discovering.

These last few days are feeling increasingly intense, as I do more physically and mentally demanding practice. The whole thing feels a bit spiritual to me, actually.

• I have a teacher with new and exotic (to me) beliefs.
• Along the way, I have encountered adherents of these beliefs, as well as various splinter groups.
• I will have a special guide for the hunt who is different from my teacher. That is, I am being passed on to a superior expert for the culminating event.
• I have had to pass arduous tests: physical, mental and moral.
• I have made journeys: to pass tests, to engage in learning, and to experience the culminating event.
• If I am successful, I will be working very closely with blood (and guts).
• I will be taking in the flesh of the vanquished.
• I will be wearing special garments that I have prepared with special washing.
• I will wash myself with special care and special materials before the event.
• Knowledge of my own limits will be revealed to me as a result of the event.

From 100 yards away

Not to put too fine a point on it, I expect this is going to affect me in a big way.

My shooting is good enough now to pull down a pig, and I can get into a kneeling, shooting position from walking around in just seconds. I'm as ready as I can be.

I just have a few things left to do, including baking some cookies for my coach and me. Doesn't that sound funny?

Preparations Checklist

Just to give you an idea of all the things involved in preparing for the hunt I am going to undertake on November 8-10, here are the things I've done since I last posted to this blog:

• after the 10-day waiting period, I picked up the rifle that I told you I purchased. 
• I studied for and then passed my hunter's education certificate examination, which enabled me to get...
• my hunting license, along with a pig tag. You have to have a "tag" for every pig you expect to "take."
• I've purchased a whole bunch of things, including:
• a telescopic sight for my rifle
• camouflage clothing (top, bottom, hat, and gloves) designed to make me look like shrubbery
• special "combat" earplugs to protect me from the sounds of the same rifle referred to earlier
• a shoulder pad, to protect me from the impact of that same rifle (noticing a pattern?)
• various cleaning tools to clean, carry, or otherwise treat the rifle under different circumstances
• special laundry soap and personal soap which I'll use to clean all the clothing I'll take on the trip in order to remove all scent. Apparently wild pigs can't see well, but they can smell you from a mile away. Or something like it. So we have to disguise our odors. (This raises the question: why are we trying to look like shrubbery? But, hey, I'm just the student in this enterprise.)
• shooting sticks, which, together, make a bipod support I can use to stabilize myself for shooting from a sitting or kneeling position. This helps a lot, because the rifle weighs 7 pounds, and holding out in front ends up being tiring.
• and, last but not least: ammunition. Bullets. Oh boy. Did you know you can buy bullets on the Internet?
• And then there's all the practicing, and also a rather involved process of working in a new gun and sight.

Phew! So, this is what I've been doing with my spare time. I've been to my coach's Sunol ranch and I've also gone to a new range, the Richmond Rod & Gun Club, which is closer to me than the Chabot range I'd been to before.

It feels like a bit of a sprint, to be honest. I had imagined a slower-paced process. But the opportunity to have my first hunt be one I take with my coach has meant going along with her schedule, and so I accept it. An interesting by product is that my locavore Thanksgiving might feature some wild boar this year.

Sausage making

A note on all the images in this post: if you want to see them larger, just click on the image.

John Stewart of Black Pig Meat Company gave a terrific demonstration of sausage making at the Eat Real Festival last Sunday in Oakland's Jack London Square. I am eager to learn this skill in advance of bringing home a wild boar, as I've heard that sausage is a common way to prepare boar meat.

Stewart began by sharing his sausage recipe:

• 15 pounds of pork (he uses pork shoulder)
• 100 grams of salt (he uses only kosher)
• 1 T. chili flakes
• 3 T. freshly ground black pepper
• 5-6 cloves garlic
• white wine to cover (though in the demo, he used red)
• and he also added water, which he said released the proteins in pork.
• 1 1/3 c. toased fennel seeds, pulsed in a coffee grinder

Sausage stuffer (l) and meat grinder (r)

For equipment, he used a hand cranked meat grinder and a hand cranked sausage stuffer. Both were home-sized and ordered from www.sausagemaker.com, a vendor he recommended for home cooks. I was glad to hear him advising the use of the two-machine approach, because I have my grandmother's meat grinder, and snap-on sausage stuffer accessories are not available for antique grinders.

Cutting the meat

His first step was to cut the meat away from the bone and into strips the right size to fit into the meat grinder. At this point, I asked if he ever used wild boar. He said yes, adding that wild meat is almost always lean, so you need to add some commercial pork to get the fat content up. He likes about 20% fat for a tasty sausage.

Grinding the meat

Then, he started grinding.

Mixing the meat & spices

After the meat was ground, he took the other ingredients and mixed them with a hand-held mixer. Then, he poured them over the pan of ground meat. He hand mixed it all together, wearing surgical gloves.

At this point he said "If what you want is breakfast patties, this is sausage!" However, if the goal is "true" sausage, the next and final stage is filling casings. For fresh (uncured) sausage, he recommended natural casings. These are also available from sausagemakers.com.

Rinsing the casing

Natural casings are packed in salt and must be rinsed inside and out. I asked if he ever made his own casings (which are pig or sheep intestines). He said no, this was not something he would ever want to do. Processing an animal already takes about 15 hours, and this would add so much (unpleasant) extra work that it just wasn't worth it.

Next, he slipped the casing entirely onto the end of the sausage stuffer, which had been fitted with the proper-sized nozzle (based on the size of sausage he wanted). He twisted the end slightly.

Guiding the sausage into a spiral

He had also filled the container of the sausage stuffer with the ground meat mixture and now started cranking it. Rapidly, sausage started emerging in front of the machine. He guided it into a spiral shape on the table in front.

When he had made all the sausage he wanted, he cut off the casing and twisted the end. He said you can repack the casing with salt and it lasts a long time.

Twirling the links

He then took up the length of sausage, decided how long he wanted his sausages to be, and then twirled the "rope" to get the links.

Removing air pockets from links

Then he pricked each one to release any air pockets. He had a little forked tool for that purpose.

He said that, with fresh sausage, the best storage is freezing in as airtight a container as possible, in amounts you would be likely to use. Just cut them apart before freezing.

The finished product

Doesn't this seem like something we could do ourselves?

Green menace

Last week, I regaled you with the challenges we have in getting along with another mammal. And now comes the beast in a botanic form...

I refer of course to that monster of the raised bed: Zucchini. Does that strike the same summer terror in your hearts as it does in mine?

Here is my story. When I leave home on these mornings, I very often observe a small squash on the plant, as shown here. In my mind, I am thinking: it looks a little immature. I say to myself, "I'll let it go one more day, and then it will be just right for a stir fry."

My friends, it's as if those giant flowers are actually ears listening in to my thoughts. Zucchini is plotting, is planning, in response to my culinary notions. It puts on the gas, as it were.

Because by the time I get home from work, instead of a summer squash, I am faced with, well, a Zeppelin.

I experience this as a kind of vegetable threat. A woody weapon poised over my head. Act now! After all, who wants to cook an airship? So I'm now pre-emptively harvesting. I spy a small squash and I grab it.

This brings to mind a dinner guest of ours from some years ago. It was another summer, and another year of battling against the onslaught of produce. Our guest happened to be a fellow gardener, and she commiserated with my plight. She asked, memorably, "How can there be world hunger and zucchini?" We all chuckled, but of course we did not have the answer. No signs of intelligent design here...

So, I plod along from summer to summer, idiotically re-planting the source of this problem, because, despite my complaining, I'm hooked on the thrill of a bumper crop. There: I've admitted it.

Back from the firing range

I wanted to jot down a couple of quick observations from my trip to Target Master West in Milpitas where I shot a gun for the first time today.

(If you want to know the background on this, look here.)

First, Target Master West is located in a strip mall, like everything else in Milpitas. Somehow perfectly NRA, and yet so far from the Wild West.

The staff member who helped us was very friendly, explaining our choices and showing me--the total neophyte-- how to load the ammunition and rifle. The guy standing next to me with his rifle showed me how to hold the rifle. When I said it was the first time I had ever held one, he said, "we've all been there."

We chose our targets, simple bull's-eyes,donned our ear and eye protection and then went into the lanes. I had lane 15. Stephanie clipped on my target the first time, and I controlled how far away it went on the wire with a switch. I loaded my gun, shouldered the rifle and started shooting.

What I learned fairly quickly was that I tended to shoot high and to the left. When I remembered to put my cheek to the rifle, like the man in the line told me, I could get a better aim, and hit the bull's eye circle. I liked this challenge quite a bit, and I liked that I could get better at it within the hour we shot.

The rifle I used was a 22. That's the smallest size. It jammed a lot, which people said happens fairly often with 22s, because the bullets are really small. They get turned around inside the chamber. When I do this again, I want to try a rifle that uses larger bullets. I'll need to get used to that, anyway, for boar hunting.

Being a carnivore

Next weekend, I'm taking a first step toward eating more meat. When I first started this blog, I explained why I eat fish and not other animals. I've stuck with that for a while now, something like a year and a half.

However, I have had in the back of my mind the last chapter of Michael Pollan's book The Omnivore's Dilemma in which he makes a meal from food he has hunted or gathered. The meat he serves comes from a wild boar he has hunted in Sonoma County, CA.

It seems that the wild boar is considered an invasive species pretty much everywhere it now lives, including Sonoma County. That gives hunting wild pigs an environmentally righteous tinge. The hunter can feel he or she is part of an environmental solution, a clean-up task, if you will.

The California Department of Fish and Game actually has a Wild Pig Management Program, including special hunts, hunter education, and "pig take reports." From the pig take reports of past years, you can see the "method of take" for every county in the state. By far, the most common method of "taking" a wild pig is with a rifle.

And that leads to my next step: a field trip to Target Master West, a shooting range in Milpitis. I have to find out if I can shoot a rifle! I am going with a few friends from work, who have been to Target Master several times before. This is just the first step, I know, but it definitely feels like a moment.

Target Master's tagline is "Serving the Shooting Community for Over 25 Years." The thought that I might be joining "the shooting community" has given me pause, I  must say. I find myself imagining wearing some kind of sign on my back saying "only hunting for food not sport."

At the bottom of this is a real curiosity on my part as to whether or not I have it in me to be a pig hunter. I'm going to start finding that out.

About the bread, and grains generally

I meant to mention the bread when wrote that post. I use Mark Bittman's Fast No-Knead Whole Wheat Bread recipe. In my experience, it doesn't make an incredibly high loaf, but I'm using it for stuffing, so I don't care terribly for looks. It has good flavor, is moist, and doubles well.

This is a picture of the bread slices drying so I can make them into crumbs for the dressing.

Now, about grains. The first year I tried the 100-mile challenge, I didn't have a source of local grain other than rice. I had to use nuts for the pie crusts, and we had a rice-based dressing. Not the end of the world, but also not the family favorite. At a Christmas party that year, I was talking about the search I'd done for local grain and a friend and work colleague mentioned a CSA she knew about that was strictly for grains! This sounded perfect for me.

The CSA supported Windborne Farm, and the farmer Jennifer Greene, in Covelo, CA. I signed up in January 2008. Roughly once a month, we got a bag of various whole grains, including wheat, rye, barley, and corn meal. Greene would also send blends like pancake mix and hot cereal mix, as well as unusual grains like teff and millet. The assortment varied from month to month.

Unfortunately (for me), the business model has ceased to work for Greene, and earlier this year, she wrote to all of us that she needed to diversify into a more general farming operation and focus her distribution closer to her immediate area.

When I got her message, I thought of my Thanksgiving meal and saved the wheat and rye flours and corn meal I had.

So, now I have a year to find another local source or get used to the idea of that rice dressing.

100-Mile Thanksgiving

Since 2007, we've been having a 100-mile Thanksgiving at our house, an idea I got after reading Plenty. Basically, you design the menu around foods that are available from farmers, fishermen, beekeepers, and so on, within 100 miles of where you live. If you are having out-of-town guests at your table, you can invite them to bring some ingredients from their area, which extends your possibilities.

It's a fun challenge, and because I live in Northern California, where we have a vibrant farmers' market year round, I figured I had no excuse not to try it.

You end up being able to give thanks for the bounty of your own land, so to speak. I have to think this is the real spirit of Thanksgiving.

So, here's my menu for this year. It reflects another change we made this year, away from meat (other than fish), which came after reading Omnivore's Dilemma.

Pre-Dinner Tastings:
Corn and Black Pepper Crackers (I substitute local honey for the sugar.)
Spring Hill Garlic Cheddar
Spring Hill Smoked Yellow Cheddar

Dinner:
Rock Fish, caught off Fort Bragg, stuffed (stuffing recipe below)
Crab and Cornmeal Stew (I froze local red peppers and tomatoes in July when they were in season.)
Ginger Orange Pomegranate RelishThis is in our stand-in for cranberries. Yum!
Sweet Potatoes and Orange Juice from Joy of Cooking I can't get oranges, but I can get Satsuma tangerines.
French fingerling potatoes baked in parchment with fresh rosemary
Green salad--I'm not sure of the details on this, because a guest is bringing it.
Green vegetable--same story.

Dessert:
Pumpkin pie, from pumpkin I grew in my front yard!
Honey Walnut-Fruit Tart I'm using an ordinary pie crust, not a matzo meal crust.
I'll have whipped cream and also Three Twins Vanilla Ice Cream for toppings.

Beverages:
Another guest is bringing local wine.
I have on hand Calestoga spring water and also some excellent local Gravenstein apple cider.

I promised the recipe for stuffing, and I can actually point to my pumpkin pie and pie crust recipes as well, which recently got published by a French site. The recipes are on page 5 of the issue.

Savory Stuffing

1 egg, beaten
1/4 t. thyme
1/2 t. dill seed
2 T. parsley
1/4 t. salt
dash pepper
1/2 c. butter, melted
3 T. finely chopped onion
2 T. hot water
3 c. bread crumbs
(my mom's recipe calls for white bread, but I'm now making this with whole grain, because I have to bake it from local wheat.)

Combine egg, thyme, dill, parsley, salt, pepper in large bowl. Mix well. In hot butter, saute onion until golden, about 5 minutes. To seasoning, add onion-butter mixture, hot water, and crumbs, tossing lightly to mix well. Stuff the fish (or turkey) and cook according to instructions.