Many years ago, during the summer of my eighth-grade year, my delayed father went on a fishing trip to the Churchill River in northern Saskatchewan, a enormous system of strait lakes and tributaries located in one of the most remote and pristine fishing areas in North America.
Besides the stunning views of the northern forests, the crystal clear waters, and the painful yet pleasurable cuts on his hands and fingers from catching so many walleye and pike, my father couldn’t stop raving about his lunch on the shore. He loved telling the story of how his Cree guide prepared it every day; how the fried walleye, crispy potatoes, and beans in tomato sauce tasted better than any meal you’d ever eaten, as if prepared by a Michelin-starred chef; and how the trip, highlighted by wild food prepared and served in a wild setting, was a defining moment in his outdoor life.
“There was something about eating a fish you had just caught in the middle of the Canadian wilderness with your friends,” he said of the experience in various ways over the years. “Not only did it taste better, but you knew you were part of something special.”
I think about this story often, though not during fishing season. I think about it this time of year, when a fall explosion of color sets the prairies and forests of the Upper Midwest on fire.
I wonder why more bird and substantial game hunters don’t adopt the culture of lunch on the bank that is the romantic element of northern woodland fishing. Some do, of course, to varying degrees. Still, preparing game in the field doesn’t seem to awaken the hunter’s sleepy sensibilities the way the age-old tradition of anglers frying beer-battered pike-perch in a bubbling puddle of lard does.
But it should. Here’s why:
Preparing what you catch in the wild not only enhances your hunting experience, it completes it. The predator-prey relationship comes full circle. Wild food provides a moment of reflection and gratitude. It inspires great conversations, even debates. The tailgate—part stove, part table—becomes a stage of sorts for post-hunt memories.
“We like to take out the inner tenderloins and season them with Lawry’s Seasoned Salt, then cook them medium rare over an open flame,” my cousin and hunting partner said, describing how he prepares part of the first whitetail deer he kills at his deer camp each year. It’s a tradition that’s been going on for a few years.
“It’s really simple but delicious, and I think it has to do with that quick transition, from farm to table. That’s the part of deer camp that I really look forward to,” he says.
Although I had been organizing spring game parties for many years, I only started cooking game outdoors when I was about 30. And it was by accident.
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My cousin and I were duck hunting in northeastern South Dakota. Just before leaving my home in Red Wing, on a whim, I put a miniature gas grill in the bed of my truck, thinking it might come in handy for burgers. After a handsome morning of hunting (and three blue-winged teal on my meat strip), my cousin looked at the grill, and I saw the gears starting to turn in his head.
“This grill works, right?” he asked, knowing we were 50 miles from the nearest town and desperately hungry.
We had no cookware or basic kitchen equipment – no plates, cutlery, cutting board, kitchen knives, napkins, oil or spices. Undeterred, we found a couple of salt and pepper packets in my glove compartment and after taking out a blue winged teal, my cousin grilled them to oh-so-perfect medium occasional. We ate them with our bare hands, 200 yards in a straight line from where we shot them. They were delicious. This was life, we thought.
By the following spring I was all in. Before the snow season hit, I had assembled a modest mobile kitchen with various accessories that all fit into a jumbo-sized rubber container.
What to buy? Start with two frying pans (10 and 12 inches) and a cast iron pot. A pot, or maybe even a cast iron skillet, which conducts heat very well. Plates (robust paper ones work well), bowls, utensils, kitchen knives (a filleting knife will work too), tongs, spatula, etc.
Let’s be clear: You don’t have to buy cookware from All-Clad or Le Creuset to cook in the wild. In fact, you can find everything you need—and for pennies—at garage sales and thrift stores. Online finds are another basic way to find cooking gear. I once bought a fully functional camp stove for $10. You can kit yourself out for under $100. My cousin and I pooled our resources, and you should, too.
In addition to the cookware and utensils, I bought various containers of spices (salt, pepper, Lawry’s, garlic salt, cayenne pepper, paprika, etc.) and put them in a ziplock bag; a bottle of olive oil, because cooking requires fat and olive oil stores well; a bottle of red wine, which can be used to make a sauce in the pan; and a miniature bottle of vinegar, because every dish needs a little acidity. Everything was safely placed in the bag.
I also bought a miniature, handy cooler where I store other essentials: onions, garlic, mushrooms, fresh herbs, butter, etc. What you take is up to you and should (of course) suit the dishes you plan to make.
When we arrived in northeastern South Dakota to hunt spring snowshoes, my elderly friend and hunting buddy Gordie (who lives there) was skeptical about turning his little piece of prairie into a traveling cooking show.
Despite everything, my onion-shaped buddy loves to eat. He hunts more than any man I know, and he has a good appetite.
After his hunt, he usually wants to stop by the nearest coffee shop for a burger and fries or a beef ad. Along the way, he fortifies himself with treats from his sweet temptress, Little Debbie.
But this was different.
“Keep an open mind, Gord,” I said. “Nobody lives on Honey Buns alone.”
After a morning of hunting in the fog, we managed to bag a half dozen snowbirds, all juvenile of the year. We got out our bag and the fun began. We all helped make my cousin’s famed wild rice soup – a cross between soup and stew in consistency. I cut up some goose breasts and browned them in a pan, then added some onions, carrots and spices. My cousin had already prepared the wild rice and bacon. Within 20 minutes we had a one-pot meal cooking in the back of my truck. All that was missing was some crusty bread, which I had forgotten to bring.
“This is so good,” my buddy from South Dakota moaned.
What you cook in the field is up to you. You can choose something plain or exquisite. Just plan it accordingly. I have prepared many different starters and dishes in the field, with duck, goose, pheasant, grouse, turkey and game.
Grilled duck is one of my favorites. It’s basic and delicious. Others prefer my pheasant piccata, fried pheasant with chicken and pheasant nuggets with ketchup-horseradish sauce.
Fall is just around the corner and hunting season is in full swing. Grab your bag, gather your cooking gear and get to work. There are few things better than wild food prepared and served in a wild setting. My Old Man learned this lesson well long ago.
