Bivalve bong hits.

You may wonder what the above items have in common. The answer to that started while sitting at the bar of a ceviche restaurant in Manhattan's lower east side. There is a small place called Desnuda where a couple of young chefs make some really interesting, delicious ceviches. They also do other weird shit. One of which is make a quick-smoked oyster. 

I figured I would give it a shot, as it looked replicable. Also I have been on a bit of an oyster binge these past few months. 

The first step - as with most recipes - was to construct a gravity bong. Having of course never EVER done this before, I took to the internet for instructions. I am now on a watchlist, and am publishing this blog post partly to clear my name if it ever comes to that.

I had asked the guys at Desnuda what they were using, and they quickly revealed their secret blend. A Chinese smoked tea called Lapsang Souchong, and Szechuan peppercorns. Both were easily procured in Montreal. These were blended at about 2/3 tea leaves to 1/3 peppercorns, and the bowl was packed. 

Next, shuck. I bought two varieties of east coast (P.E.I.) oysters: a small variety called Shiny Sea, and my favourite, Raspberry Point. The oyster supply in Montreal is really good. You know, the French. 

The next series is fairly self-explanatory. 

The smoke should be really thick, so I burned it slow.
A blowtorch would have been better than the Bic I used. 

It was a two person job to hotbox these guys.

So then I just let them sit there for two minutes. The kitchen got good and smoky, but it is a nice smoke.  

After the smoke they went back in their shells on a bed of ice for presentation purposes, with a few drops of fresh lemon on each. The photo from that step is missing because we may or may not have actually just tipped back the little bowls while standing in the kitchen. But you can imagine how that might be a nice presentation. 

Summary: fucking delicious. Interestingly, the two varieties took the smoke flavour very differently. The Shiny Sea were good, but not nearly as good at the Raspberry Point. I think the natural sweetness, along with brininess of the Raspberry Point made them ideal for the technique. With such a delicate flavour to begin with, oysters can easily be overpowered by sauces. But this infuses a flavour that doesn't overwhelm. 

Next up: freebasing a rack of lamb through a rolled up $100 bill in a locked bathroom. 

Moldy pig

A quick review of the archives reveals that the last time I posted anything of substance, Aaron still lived in North America. I'll ease my way back in - no great outdoor adventures post today - but I am finally embarking on an SS&S-worthy indoor quest; the construction (and eventually, use) of a home charcuterie curing chamber. This is something I've wanted to do for a long time, but finally got around to actually enacting only recently.

The whole thing's pretty simple - an enclosed space in which you can control temperature, humidity and air flow. Mine's constructed in a more-or-less standard way for homemade jobs - an old fridge, a humidifier, and a sensor/controller.

Antlered harbinger of bresaola

The fridge was a moving-sale deal, and for $50, I got a nicer (well, certainly cleaner) fridge than I the one I already have. Inside is an ultrasonic humidifier (finer mist, less trouble-prone, apparently) with a built-in fan; humidity and air movement in one. Missing yet are some racks for hanging, and a couple of screened holes with adjustable closures in the fridge sides for air exchange.

Less complex, more reptilian

I looked around for some time trying to find an elegant solution to the humidity/temperature control problem. Ebay had cheap and plentiful lab controllers, but being from Hong Kong, they were all 220V, and had complex-looking wiring requirements made all the more difficult by having Cantonese instructions. Further searching, however, and I came across purpose-built, programmable humidity/temperature sensor-controllers marketed to reptile and amphibian enthusiasts. Sold. Program a temperature, and it turns the fridge off and on to maintain it. Program a humidity, and it does the same with the humidifier. Luckily, it's always dry here, so I only ever have to worry about adding, rather than subtracting, humidity.

Showing Hank some love brought it up to the free shipping minimum

The latest stage was waiting for appropriate reference to arrive, which happened today. Now, to mail-order in some Prague Powder #1 and 2, a few culture starters, and I'll be ready to start turning perfectly good meat into shriveled, moldy and hopefully delicious shadows of its former self. I figure I'll start small (cured bacon, duck prosciutto, guanciale if I can talk a local guy into selling an appropriate jowl), with the eventual goal of getting reasonably elaborate (Dall mocetta seems appropriately lofty). We'll see.

Oh, and on an unrelated note, the Saturn has some new friends:

Two different ways to turn dinosaurs into noise

Finally...

Every year since I started hunting I have tried to get an elk with no luck. This year I put in for a cow tag north of Steamboat Springs in a unit that includes the Zirkel Wilderness. It is a pretty remote area with low hunting pressure and supposedly a lot of elk. 

Over the last couple years I have decided that camping while hunting sucks. So myself, Lani, and our friends Travis and Julie rented a US Forest Service cabin for a few nights. The Cabin was sweet- propane fridge, heaters and lights, and it was right at a trailhead. 

We got in the night before opening day and headed out at first light. Travis had done some scouting the day before but had not seen any tracks so we kind of winged it, setting up at two different points along a meadow on the edge of a river. The area seemed decent, with some large burns mixed in with patches of aspen and pine.

However, we did not see shit and as my patience for hunting from a seated position only lasts about 30 minutes, we split up, heading up different parts of a ridge that runs through part of the unit. There was good snow cover so my plan was to walk until I saw some sign and try to look for a good place to set up in the evening or the next morning. I saw some older tracks here and there but nothing much until I got to the top of the ridge where there were tracks that looked to be from within the last day or so. I followed these for a couple miles along the ridge when they started descending down into a steep canyon and crossing with a bunch of other elk.

Once I was on the slope of the canyon the snow disappeared so I sat down to rest for a while. In about 2 minutes I heard a long bugle. This was mid October so I was pretty certain this was not an elk and figured it was another hunter trying his luck with calling something in so I did not get too excited at first. About 5 minutes later I heard the bugle again and decided to scan the slopes of the canyon. The opposite side was burned, which afforded a clear view. I quickly saw a group of 8 or so cows with one bull coming down into the bottom. They were about 800 m from me so I dropped my pack and started moving towards them. There was no wind and the terrain was rugged enough that I could dip down behind small ridges and get out of view for most of the time that I was moving towards them. I could get glimpses of the group from time to time and they were steadily making there way up my side of the canyon. After ducking behind a particularly deep ridge for 5-10 minutes I came out around 300 yards away and at even elevation with the group. I was breathing hard so laid down for a couple minutes while they just sat there eating. There was one cow that was separate from the group and offering almost a perfect broadside shot. I aimed right on the middle of the shoulder to make sure I hit something (I was breathing pretty hard and so was not confident in my shot). I shot and saw immediately that I hit it- she jumped up and took off running hard downhill (thankfully). The rest of the group just sat there staring and I was kicking myself for not having bought a bull tag (though only briefly when I looked around at the terrain and it dawned on me that there probably had not been a hunter stupid enough to shoot an elk in this spot for quite some time). I ran over to the last spot I saw the elk and started walking downhill- finding the carcass quickly.

I had missed left and gone right through heart and lungs, completely missing any shoulder meat. At this point it was around noon and I was able to get in touch with Lani and the rest of the group to get them to start making their way towards me, though they would end up taking a good 3-4 hours to get to me. I felt pretty confident in my ability to dress an animal, but had never tried to deal with something of this size by myself, while standing on a 45 degree slope.

It took me well over an hour to gut the elk. I had forgotten rope to tie the legs to trees and so I had to straddle it, holding the legs apart with my head and one foot while I made cuts. When I moved too much the carcass would start sliding downhill, and it almost rolled over on me a couple of times. I eventually got it done but was fucking exhausted and was quickly coming to the realization of what I had gotten myself into. I also was thinking back to the times when I and Jesse or Aaron had been in areas even further from the road and had not killed an elk and was retrospectively very thankful. After gutting it I got 3 quarters taken care of before the rest of the group got there. I brought them individually down to the bottom of the canyon (the route out led through the bottom of the canyon). Once everyone got there I figured the rest would go quickly.. 

Travis and I finished cutting out the meat as the sun was setting

Backstrap

Travis being deliriously happy about the size of the backstrap 

 We loaded up as it was getting dark- Travis and I alternated a pack with a rear quarter and a front quarter which probably weighed close to 150 lbs. and one with only a rear quarter. Lani took a front quarter. Julie (Travis' wife) took the grind meat, backstraps and tenderloin which weighed about as much as a front quarter.

The hike out was brutal. It was around 3 miles but the first 1.5 miles was through the bottom of the canyon, which alternated between deadfall and lakes which forced us to have to hike up the side of the canyon half the time. We would walk 100 m and then stop for 5 minutes. We were all in rough shape by the time we got out of the canyon but in high spirits nonetheless.

We got back to the cabin at 10:30 for a total time from the shot to when we got back of 10 hours.
We had the cabin for the next two nights so we got wasted, then got up and atea pound of bacon, tenderloins, and drank all day.

Ultimately this trip put a lot in perspective: 

(1) I had always taken the approach of going as far off trail as possible when elk hunting. While that worked this time, I think I might not do that for a couple more years. 

(2) I should not hunt elk alone. I would probably be out there still if I had done that. 

(3) I am really glad I did not shoot an elk in many of the places I had hunted them in Alberta. I am pretty sure there is a time Aaron and I were hunting 10 km from camp, and if we were to have killed an elk there it might have ended our friendship. 

(3) Having a truck is badass

(5) Busch makes blaze orange cans during hunting season.

Pincher Creek High Efficiency Hunt 2013

Headed down to Pincher for me & Jesse's annual hunt on the November long weekend. We rolled in on Friday night and headed out at first light Saturday morning. We saw one white-tail about 5 minutes after leaving the house, but unfortunately it was on land we didn't have permission to hunt that weekend. Fortunately, we did see another good-sized doe about 30 seconds later! She was on the right side of the fence, but was on a hill top so it wasn't a good shot, and she took off before we could get any closer. We started to sneak up the hill after her, but unfortunately couldn't find her. Fortunately, we did see 2 more deer at the bottom of the hill on the other side! They hadn't spotted us yet, so we crawled over to a nearby downed tree branch for a nice shooting rest, with the pair about 100 yards out. I took the first one with a high-ish shot through the lungs and the bottom of the spine and she dropped on the spot. The second one didn't take off right away, so Jesse shot it too. Turned out they were a doe-fawn pair, and Jesse had taken the young buck. Pretty damn big for a fawn, though - we couldn't even tell he wasn't an adult until we got right up to him. 

Elapsed time: 15 minutes.

Back home, Andrea and Jorden were just getting up and heard the shots. "Already?" We got the deer home, and that's when the real fight began - the Pinto-Otis showdown over the carcasses. Better toughen up my gal for next year - she's got a 40 lb weight disadvantage to overcome.

On Sunday, after Linnea and Todd arrived, Todd joined us and the three of us went out all morning to the Castle Stock Grazing Reserve just south of J & A's to try for an elk. We had a great, extremely snowy day in the foothills and covered a lot of ground, saw a ton of elk tracks and beds, and even a few moose, but there were no elk to be found. For next year, we talked about setting up a wall tent way back in the reserve and taking a week off to go and find something. Anyone want to fly back to Alberta to join the fun?

Speed Goats

Since moving to Colorado I have wanted to go pronghorn hunting, but the tags here are difficult to get. Fortunately, in Wyoming they are begging people to kill them, and doe tags are only $35 out of state. So Jesse and I put in for tags last March and each drew one for a unit 2 hours north and west of Fort Collins, near the town of Medicine Bow. 

After 3 days of excessive drinking we packed up my truck and headed north  

Yeah, I bought a truck

We left on a Tuesday morning and got to our unit around midday. Wyoming gets a bad rap sometimes for how it manages wildlife but this unit was an example of something they definitely do right. It is part of a program called the Private Land, Public Wildlife program, where land owners get paid to allow Fish and Game to control access to their land. Basically we just had to apply online for a permission slip and had multiple sections of a mix of public and private land, with 2-track access roads on which to hunt, and all with minimal fences. 

The unit descend from higher elevation in the south, where we came from, and so we did not see any pronghorn for the first few hours, but that would all change. Once we lost some elevation we were in prime habitat, however this looks slightly different than what either of us are used to hunting. 

Fuck, it is flat, and there are no trees

A different perspective...

 The first animal we saw was a lone doe that we chased for half a mile before realizing we would have better luck keeping up with her by getting back in the truck. As soon as we did this we started seeing more animals, but everything we saw spotted us first, and was on the move before we were out of the truck. We spent most of the first day driving around, spotting large groups at over a kilometer and trying in vain to get close enough for a shot. We did get close (within 400 m) a couple times and got off a few shots from pretty far, but all of these missed. 

Ultimately we started realizing that a lot more stealth was needed. The pronghorn were spotting us way too early and were really unpredictable in how they would move, ducking behind some slight topography and then doubling back as soon as they were out of sight. With some knowledge gained, we headed into town to enjoy some local hospitality.

 

Originally we had planned to camp, but it is windy as fuck in Wyoming, and we are old, fat, and lazy. So we got some dinner and a hotel room and mingled with the locals at the famous Virginian Hotel, which is supposedly the setting for the first Western novel ever written.

Oh yeah, it looks just as classy on the inside

Needless to say, the locals provided some excellent entertainment, as well as enough second-hand smoke to cause Jesse to go into nicotine addiction relapse. 

Waking up the next morning, smelling like stale smoke and shame we realized we only had 3 bullets left, as I forgot the second box at home. So we had to drive back to Laramie (an hour away) to get more. Fortunately, there is nowhere for pronghorn to hide during the day, so starting at 11 am was not a big deal. 

The first pronghorn  we saw (a group of 3) were on the run before we even thoguht about slowing the truck down, but we got out to take a look around regardless. We eventually spotted them around 2km away from the road, and there was some actual topography between us that we could hide behind as we tried to get close. 

Topography

Needless to say, we spooked them pretty quickly, but walked up to the top of the ridge they ran behind and saw a group of 20 does on the other side. We were able to sneak around behind the ridge and crawl through the sage to within 200 m of them. Laying down, Jesse took a shot but missed. Fortunately they did not run too far, and he was able to drop one at around 300 yards. 

Sweet picture

 We were a couple miles from the truck at this point, but we quickly learned that the best thing about pronghorn, is that they are light enough to do this...

Once back at the truck we continued on down the road to a place where we had gotten close to some pronghorn the previous day. We did not see any animals, but there was a ridge off the side of the road, and on a whim we decided to check out what was on the other side. The ridge had a large water tank on top and we were able to walk up behind this to stay hidden. Looking out from behind it there were 6 pronghorn does and bucks. I missed two shots completely, but they did not care at all, which was surprising given how skittish they were the previous day. I eventually calmed down and nailed one at 220 yards. 

All-in-all it was good trip, and one we will try to do again. Anyone is welcome to come down as well- tags are cheap and you have to put in some time in March. It is definitely a different experience than other big game hunts as you get to see animals non-stop. Trying to stalk up on them is a blast, and you know you will get multiple chances. After reading some more since this trip, it sounds like a lot of people crawl up to 400 m to get to better position, so you might be able to get closer than we did, but longer shots are definitely the name of the game. I think I will hit the range a little more before the next trip, and try to dial my gun in a little better.

I'll leave you with some parting shots...

My truck being badass

Celebratory whiskey

Tenderloin...pronghorn tastes real good

Trans-Atlantic Migrations ( + Product Review)

I made a quick trip to la belle province last week.

In between a conference and seminar I managed to sneak off for a quick (24hr) hunting trip just north of the Maine border in the QC Appalachians. I stayed at Steeve's cabin, which perhaps not surprisingly, bears much resemblance to Caw Ridge. In addition to hunting, we had a bit of work to do on the cabin so Steeve kept me well fed:

This is venison, caribou, and wild boar (shot in texas) - also this was for one meal.

We were hoping for ducks, geese, and grouse: only the latter cooperated. It was a little too late and too cold for the migratory guys - although I did see thousands of snow geese just west at lower elevations.

Having not hunted for over a year, it took me a while to get into the groove:

I was using a Rossi 410 - this gun to be exact. This gun is amazing for two reasons: i) it has an interchangeable 22 barrel; and ii) it easily fits into a backpack. This will be my next gun purchase for sure.

Back to the hunt: after a little warm up...  I took to walking with the safety off (I forgot how quick grouse flush). Eventually I succeeded. This ended up  being the most expensive bird of my life: aka a $90 non resident permit.

Having little time to prepare a meal, I opted to return to Scandinavia. 

Examining our Swedish icebox revealed fresh truffles (Kim bought from Italy) and pasta. A meal worthy of a ninety dollar bird?

Pinto Strikes Out

Yesterday we took Pinto out for her (and my!) first attempt at grouse. Totally struck out, and she was more interested in barking at horses than sniffing out birds. Damn border collie and her farm animal obsession. And she didn't even blink at the one bird we actually flushed. But at least she's not afraid of the gun! Maybe if I ever manage to shoot a grouse she'll learn what they smell like.

Family road trip!