A Vegetarian and Hunter Sit Down to Dinner
Elk Meatballs with Tahini Sauce + A Suitably Non-Gamey Rhone Red
“What is it about hunting that you like, exactly?” I speared a roasted cauliflower floret and placed it in my mouth. Across the table from me, Edward, the brother of my dear friend and an avid outdoorsman, was devouring a slice of roasted venison leg. The venison was from a deer he shot the previous fall, cleaned and butchered, then froze until this return visit to his family’s home on a hunting and fishing club in the Catskills. My question was asked without animus but perhaps seasoned with a healthy dose youthful provocation. We were college students, after all, and for the four years leading up to this dinner, I had been a vegetarian.
I had never eaten much meat growing up. My parents, as I’ve written before, subscribed to a vision of California cooking heavily influenced by the Seventies trends toward meat-free cooking as an antidote the ills industrial agriculture were inflicting on our planet and our bodies. Meat, when they made it, was mostly for holidays – corned beef for St. Patrick’s Day and ham for Easter (with a small exception for my mom’s crispy beef tacos, which were delicious, when she made them). Also, with four kids to feed, eating beans and tofu for protein most meals was simply more affordable.
My best childhood friend, at the age of nine, gave up eating meat out of an intense empathy for animals. I didn’t share that feeling but I saw from my friend how changing your designation to vegetarian made accommodations simpler – while her three older brothers ate burgers, we would have grilled cheese. At the aged of sixteen, tired of having to explain to people that I didn’t really like the taste of meat, I followed my friend. Changing my status from “girl who didn’t grow up eating meat so doesn’t really have a taste for it and prefers to eat salad” to “vegetarian”, seemed to shut down conversation.
If I lacked exposure to a culture of positive meat eating, I couldn’t have fallen in with a better friend at college than Aline. Meeting at Cornell over drinks at a frat house, it might have seemed unlikely we would become so close. She was the Animal Science major to my Hospitality Administration, the skier to my ballet dancer, the Belgian-American to my Californian. While I grew up on the sunbaked high desert riding my bike through orange groves, Aline spent a good part of her childhood riding her horse through the land around her family’s house in the southeastern pine forests of New York State.
During college, when Aline’s family convened for weekends in the Catskills, I was often the beneficiary of her parent’s open arms to their children’s friends. I’d make myself useful in the kitchen, chopping and cleaning, so I could watch her mother reduce a pan sauce flecked with fresh herbs for a roast, or mix a no-knead bread for breakfast in the morning. Whatever the featured protein, it often came from the deep freezer in the garage, the storage place for every cut of venison, wild turkey, pheasant, and fish hunted or caught on the property over the previous year. Everything was wild; nothing went to waste.
At that dinner table, Edward, who normally rattled off thoughts so quickly his words tripped over themselves, took a rare pause, fork suspended mid-air. “I never feel more connected to nature than when I am hunting. We spend the whole day in the woods. Most of the time we are waiting. Just watching and listening. You have to be aware of everything around you, every crunch and rustle of leaves, every sound different animals make. We don’t get a deer every time. Sometimes we go out for days before we get one. When we do get one, we always go for a clean shot. Then we bring it back here.” I had seen the area in the garage devoted to cleaning animals, with its deep sink and large work surface. “We clean it, butcher it, and freeze the meat. We eat everything.”
I thought of the plastic-wrapped Styrofoam trays in the meat case of my hometown supermarket. There was no connection between those pink and red slabs and the place, let alone the animal, they came from. While Edward, Aline and their family could tell me about what leaves this deer ate, what the weather was like that year, or even on that particular fall day when Edward brought home this particular deer to be his family’s food for months to come.
Aline likes to say she was responsible for me starting to eat meat again. I’ll definitely let her take some credit. Later, when I was living in New York City, I would get invited back again to that house in the Catskills, and finally tasted the venison for myself. A whole leg, slow roasted outdoors on the grill, was basted in wine and juniper berries. At the table I delicately carved my first bite. It tasted like the forest.
I’m not a hunter myself but appreciate my friends who are. These days we have the good fortune of having friends with a ranch in Colorado that abuts a national forest. Hundreds of elk pass through the pastures surrounding their cabin each fall. Getting the lottery for an elk tag give them permission to hunt, and kill, one elk. One elk provides more than 300 pounds of meat, portioned by the local butcher into steaks, roasts, sausages and burgers. It is more than their family of three can eat, so we are lucky to be the beneficiary of their efforts.
Elk meat is low in fat, high in protein and contains many essential nutrients. Even farm raised elk is grass, never corn fed, so remains far healthier than beef or lamb. For those who are game meat shy, elk is a good place to start. It has a sweet, mild taste like a very lean beef. It is getting easier to find game meats these days - even my local Sprouts carries bison steaks and ground venison. Because game meat is lower in fat than beef, it is important to add moisture to the meatballs to keep them from drying out. I do this with grated onion while also adding a small quantity of breadcrumbs to lock that moisture in. A rich tahini sauce adds a nutty, earthy flavor to complement the meat. If you can’t find elk, you can try this with ground bison or venison for similar results.
Elk Meatballs with Tahini Sauce
Serves 6
Meatballs
Olive oil
2 lb. ground elk, bison, or venison meat
2 small onions, grated on a box grater
3 garlic cloves, minced
¾ cup panko breadcrumbs
1 tsp. sea salt
½ tsp ground black pepper
1 T. ground sumac
1 tsp. ground coriander
¼ cup chopped parsley
Tahini Sauce
½ cup tahini
¼ cup water
2 T. parsley, chopped
½ tsp. sea salt
2 tsp. ground sumac
Black pepper
Preheat oven to 425°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Brush the paper with olive oil and set aside.
In a medium bowl, mix together elk, onions, garlic, breadcrumbs, 1 tsp. salt, ½ tsp. pepper, 1 T. sumac, coriander, ¼ parsley, until well combined. Lightly wet hands, and form meat into balls, about the size of golf balls. Place each onto the oiled baking sheet. Rewet hands as needed to prevent the meat from sticking. Continue with all the meat. You should have about 22 meatballs. Brush tops of meatballs with a bit more oil then place the baking sheet in the preheated oven. Bake for 20 minutes until tops are browned and meatballs feel firm, springing back to the touch.
Meanwhile, prepare tahini sauce. In a small bowl, whisk tahini and water until smooth. If it is too thick, add more water 1 T. at a time until it is a thin sauce consistency. Stir in 2 T. parsley, ½ tsp. salt, 2 tsp. sumac and black pepper to taste.
Serve meatballs warm, drizzled with sauce and an extra sprinkle of parsley if desired. Great with rice pilaf, roasted potatoes, or even reheated the next day and served over a bed of chopped romaine for a hearty lunch.
To Drink…
Domaine Lafage Bastide Miraflors Vielles Vignes, Rhone, France 2020
When it comes to wild game, my first instinct is always the spicy, earthy, dark fruited reds of the Rhone in France. Rhone varietals, particularly Syrah, offer the big red taste that can pair with the strong flavors of game meat. However, elk is pretty mild in comparison to venison or even lamb so I’d look for a version a bit less funky and more fruity. This blend of old vine Grenache and Syrah is full-bodied with easy tannins and plenty of fruit, making this perfect for drinking now. Alternatively, check out my guide to Paso Robles and explore the Grenache and Syrah blends being made by California’s “Rhone Rangers”.
From $18 a bottle at Wine Connection in Del Mar or available online here.