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A “Doe-licious” Dinner

This may come as a surprise to some of you, but I’m a bit – oh – stubborn.  If I get it in my head that I want to do something, well damnit I’m going to do it.  So when I decided that I’d cook loin of venison over the Christmas holidays, nothing, not snow nor rain nor lack of venison was going to stop me.

After a trip to the farmer’s market proved unfruitful, my father and I cruised every meat market we could possibly think of.  No luck – and when even my beloved Wegmans failed to come through, I brought out the big guns.  I sent out a call through Facebook and Twitter.  Some suggestions were humorous (hit a deer with my car) and some were not (I love venison!  Yummy!  I hope you get it!).  But one response caught my eye.  Dave, an acquaintance from high school suggested I get in touch with a fellow classmate.  They’d both graduated a year before me, and while we’d never really spoken, Steve, Dave told me, was an “avid deer killer.”

I was dialing Steve’s number before I even finished reading the e-mail.  He answered and was rightfully taken aback when I explained who I was and what I wanted.  He listened thoughtfully as I detailed my plans to slice and cook the loin in thick medallions and coat it with a chestnut cream sauce.

“Well,” he said in a measured voice.  “I do have a deer.  I got one early in the season.  But I already ate the loin.”

My heart sank.

“But …” he continued.  My ears perked.  “I do have backstrap.”

Backstrap?  What was that?

He explained that it was the long strip of meat along either edge of the spine, and that while it was lesser-known than the tenderloin, it was every bit as delicious.

“Wow, sold,” I said.  “Can I pay you for it?”

He paused.  “I don’t really want to part with it.”

I was quiet.  That was fair, I supposed.

“But …” A-ha! “You can have it if I can eat what you cook.”

I laughed.  Of course!  What an idiot I’d been – I should have invited him in the first place!  I told him that I’d be glad to cook for him, and we made plans to meet later that week.

It didn’t feel right not to invite Dave as well.  After all, he was the catalyst that sparked the whole thing, so I asked him along too.  “Well, at least the conversation will be interesting,” he said and agreed to come.

To be perfectly honest, I was worried about the evening.  Would our conversation flow, or would it be stilted and uncomfortable?  Would I cook the meat well, or would I char it into cream-coated hockey pucks?  Would our conversation flow?

When the two gentlemen arrived on Wednesday night, I opened my door with a sheepish grin.  “He-ey,” I said, briefly acknowledging the awkwardness with my tone of voice.  They echoed back, in tonality and words, and then Steve put a plastic package in my hand.  The backstrap!  It was brilliantly colored – a sort of mahogany, I’d say – and looked just like a loin.  I outfitted us all with beers (a porter for me, a lager for Dave and Steve) and got to work on the impending supper.  As I caramelized Brussels sprouts in bacon fat and rinsed the meat (“There may still be some hair on it,” Steve explained with a blush), I was treated to the rollicking story of Steve and the deer.

I wanted to know just how he got it, and he was pleasantly graphic.  He began, as any proper storyteller would, at the very beginning.  “What did you have for breakfast!?” I cried, not wanting to miss a second of the tale.

“McDonalds,” he answered, and I tried not to shudder.  “It is delicious, and fast, and hot.”  I decided to suspend judgment, as he was such a gracious benefactor.  “Anyway,” he continued, watching me slice the backstrap into rounds.  “The sun rose at 7:05, and I was already in place …”

I listened with bated breath as he detailed the kill: it was the first morning of hunting season, and not even fifteen minutes in, he was staring down a 100-pound doe.

“Wow!” I said, my cheeks flushed with red.  All of a sudden, I was dying to learn how to hunt.

He explained that a good hunter always aims for a spot with little meat, and I nodded vigorously.  Yes, yes, of course.

We continued chatting and laughing, the three of us, all the way into the dining room.  I fixed my eyes on Steve’s plate as he cut into this backstrap.  He pierced a piece with his fork and held it up: pink-as-can-be in the center and dripping with caramel-colored sauce.  “Cooked,” he declared, “to perfection.”

I beamed and proposed a toast.  We clinked bottles and then attacked our plates with such a fury, one would almost believe that we had spent the day in the woods, stalking down deer.

We made plans, as new friends often do, to meet up again.  I was eager to learn how to fish and Steve assured me that I’d be welcome on any expedition.  (Anyone who saves fish cheeks for a year to make a scampi is someone I want to know better.)  After they’d left, I surveyed the bevy of pots and pans and thought about what a genuinely good time I’d had.  The backstrap was every bit delicious as he’d promised, and even I had to admit that I was glad Wegmans hadn’t come through.

Medallions of Venison Backstrap with Chestnut Cream Sauce and Parsnip Puree

Venison

1 length of venison backstrap

Vegetable oil

Salt, pepper

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.  Rinse the venison with cool water and pat dry.  Slice into 1/3-inch thick medallions (allowing three per person) and pat dry with a paper towel once more.  Season well with salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, heat a large pan and and add the oil.  Once it is sufficiently hot, place the medallions in the pan.  Cook just 2 minutes per side.  Turn the oven off and place the pan in it for another 3 to 4 minutes; the residual heat will finish cooking the meat without bringing it over medium-rare.

Arrange on plates and douse with chestnut cream sauce.

Chestnut Cream Sauce

Vegetable oil

Salt, pepper

100 grams onions, cut in mirepoix

100 grams carrots, cut in mirepoix

300 grams shelled and cooked chestnuts

10 milliliters cognac

5 grams fresh thyme

500 milliliters chicken stock, plus more if needed

100 milliliters heavy cream

In a large pan, add and sweat the mirepoix in oil until quite tender.  Add the chestnuts and cook until soft.  Turn the flame to high and flambe with cognac.  Once the flames have died, add the stock and thyme.  Bring to a boil, then reduce to a gentle simmer and cook until it has reduced by about half and the chestnuts are very soft.

Working in batches, puree the sauce in a blender, adding more stock if the mixture looks too thick. (It should easily run from a spoon in ribbons.)  Pass it through a fine chinois and return to a clean pan.  Add the heavy cream and heat through.  Season well.  Tamponner (dot with butter, or cover with plastic) and keep warm for service.

Parsnip Puree

Butter, vegetable oil

2 shallots, emincer

400 grams parsnips, peeled and cut into 1/4-inch chunks

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon ground allspice

250 milliliters beer, preferably one with considerable malt

Chicken stock, as needed (at least 250 milliliters)

Salt, pepper

Heat butter and oil in a pot.  Sweat the shallots – they can pick up a bit of color – and then add the parsnips.  Add spices, salt and pepper and cook over medium flame, stirring often until the parsnips have softened.  Add the beer and let reduce until at a syrupy consistency and reduced to about 100 milliliters.

Transfer the mixture to a food processor and puree until desired consistency – it should still have generous chunks of parsnip – adding stock as needed.  Add a walnut-sized knob of butter and stir to incorporate.  Season well and keep warm for service.

Brussels Sprouts

Bacon fat

1/2 quart Brussels sprouts

Salt, pepper, granulated sugar

Bring a pot of generously salted water to a boil.  Add the Brussels sprouts and cook until tender, about 5 minutes.  Remove from heat and shock in an ice bath.  Once cooled, cut in half lengthwise.

Place on paper towels and blot well to dry.  Once dried, heat bacon fat in a pan.  Add halved Brussels sprouts and season with salt, pepper and a pinch of sugar.  Sauté over high heat until caramelized and crispy.  Serve at once.