I was raised on the family farm. This farm included dairy cows, pigs, apples, and peaches. What a wonderful place to learn of life’s sorrows and joys, hard work and festive play.
One such joy is the food on the farm. Well, it’s also a sorrow – because I don’t enjoy gardening nor preparing my own meat. Fortunately, mom took care of the gardening after I repeatedly pulled out all of the carrots while weeding. Also, dad sent the cows and pigs to a local meat processor so it came back in nice little packages for the freezer.
It was delightful to grow up on our own beef, pork, veggies, milk, peaches, and apples. All were deliciously prepared by my mom’s loving hands after being nurtured by my father and brother.
Eventually, as is common in Michigan, the deer in our area became too numerous, and hunting needed to be done. The deer were eating the crops – both for cow feed and my brothers fruit trees. In being thankful for the opportunity to hunt on our land, hunters would give us the gift of deer meet.
This is where the problem comes in. I was raised on home-grown cow. The meat is smooth and tasty. Not grainy like liver can be. To me deer meat is grainy. Also, it’s raised more on corn and wheat. Not as much hay. That makes it more gamey.
All others in our house enjoyed deer meat. Well, so far as I can tell, they like ALL meat. But this is about deer. So my mom tried to hide it.
Let’s just say that I can taste it and find the texture of it even in meatloaf that is 1/3 sausage, 1/3 cow burger, and 1/3 deer burger. I can detect the undesirable texture in well seasoned spaghetti or lasagna. I can identify it in potent chili. There’s no disguise that worked. To me, it’s not palatable.
If you like it, you’re always welcome to my portion. Please!
Morale of the Story: Sometimes you just can’t hide anything.
Humor Happens 