Occasionally, the Boar is invited to help with a feast for a philanthropic cause —a raucous endeavor cloaked in a robe of charity, if you will. The Wild Game Dinner hosted by the Episcopal Collegiate School in Little Rock presents just such an opportunity. Even better, the event combines two things of which I am particularly fond: wild game (for proof click here, here, and here) and creating with fire (for the doubters among you, click here, here, here, and here –I dare you).

Team Convivial Boar (several enthusiastic sous chefs joined in the fun–with but a modicum of grumbling) set about an ambitious plan involving twenty five pheasants, six wild turkeys, four deer hams, and twelve pounds of thick-sliced, pecan- wood smoked conviviality—bacon!

In this post we will dip our snout in the creations —the inspiration, the plan, and a bit of the story. Soon enough, we will don our aprons and create them.

Pheasant Pepper Poppers Glazed with Orange Marmalade

For several years, the Boar (as well as a couple of Team Convivial Boar sous chefs) have made an annual pilgrimage to the holy land —South Dakota. And we have the pheasant-laden freezers to prove it! Just imagine if the actual bird count matched our claims in the field. Indeed, the marksmanship of one of our hunting/sous chef companions has reached legendary status:

Ceremonial field-naming

In the field, pheasants majestically rise and glide in the wind. On the plate, they present a delicate treat. Incorporating pheasant as part of a pepper popper offers a bite-size taste of our adventurous days afield—bathing the poppers in marmalade brings out the sweet silliness of it all.

Smoked Venison Flatbread with Sweet Onion and Fig Sauce topped with Goat Cheese

As has been recounted in an earlier post, this past deer season was bountiful for the Boar! And during the season, the Boar’s father prepares what has become known as “the country breakfast,” which features fresh venison sausage. By happen-chance, the Boar’s Grandmother made a batch of fig preserves. Eureka! The strong, meaty flavor of the venison balances perfectly with the sweet, fruity notes of the fig. This creation highlights that combination.

P.S.— the magic of smoked onions will be featured in a future post.

Smoked Wild Turkey Sliders

This creation arose as a challenge. One member of Team Convivial Boar was going on a turkey hunt the week before the Wild Game Dinner. In preparing our menu, I included in the email a wild turkey creation, but noted that it was contingent on our friend actually bagging a turkey. He responded with this picture:

Well played my gobbling friend, Turkey was on the menu!

Feast on a cause, my friend.

For years now, I have been secretly practicing my rain dance —you know, for those rare times when I would rather indulge in feasting and wine instead of spending hours upon hours at the baseball fields. Based on the deluge we had this spring, I may have overdone it: we are now three levels into rained out games—who knew they would feel compelled to make them up?

But more importantly, rain puts me in the mood for soups and stews, and those thoughts often turn to gumbo. In A Feast Needs a Story we danced with our roux in celebration of Roux-Making Day. And in Creating in Prose we learned how an enthusiastic gumbo feaster helped inspire this blog.

But we have barely stirred the pot, my friend —that is, until now…

Gumbo stands as the most famous dish of the much ballyhooed Creole cooking of Louisiana. Appearing on tables around New Orleans in the early 1800’s, it has often been referred to as a melting-pot dish because of the way it brings people together and transcends barriers of class and race.

The cultures that have influenced gumbo are as varied as the ingredients. The word “gumbo” derives from a West African word for okra. Ground sassafras leaves (or file’, which are often used for thickening and flavor) are a contribution of the Choctaw Indians. And the roux that binds it all together originates in France. Now that’s a pot of culture.

The power and spirit of gumbo have been immortalized in poetry as in these excerpted lines from “Ode to Gumbo” by Kevin Young published in Cornbread Nation 7 The Best of Southern Food Writing:

“Gumbo starts with sorrow —with hands that cannot wait but must—with stirring & a slow boil & things that cannot be taught, like grace”

“Like God Gumbo is hard to get right & I don’t bother asking for it outside my mother’s house. Like life, there’s no one way to do it, & a hundred ways, from here to Sunday, to get it dead wrong.”

“Blood is thicker than water under any bridge & Gumbo thicker than that.”

And alas, gumbo has instigated its share of arguments, mostly over what goes in it and sometimes who makes it best. Some feasters believe gumbo must have okra while other just as ardent feasters say “it has no place in the pot.” For some, gumbo is about seafood and others believe it is chicken and sausage —yet others declare duck to be king! And if you want a real showdown just mention tomato…

Proudly, the Convivial Boar is an equal opportunity gumbo feaster: I like’m all! I’m certain that other gumbo posts are in our future, but let’s begin with this one:

Sausage and Chicken Gumbo

Roux

I like to use equal parts flour and vegetable oil. For the gumbo pictured I mixed 1 and 1/2 cups of flour and 1 and 1/2 cups of oil and slowly coaxed it to a dark brown (about the color of an old copper penny).

My dance with this Roux lasted about forty-five minutes during which I savored two mugs of brew. Remember, you must constantly stir the roux or it will burn and you will have to start over —which means another round of brews making it all the more challenging.

Trinity

Onions, bell peppers, and celery are referred to as the trinity and are the foundational ingredients for much of Creole cooking. I like to dice them roughly into small bite-sized pieces.

Having finished my dance with the roux, I added the trinity and sautéed the vegetables for about fifteen minutes.

You may notice that I used red bell peppers instead of green, click here to find out why —bonus points for the Boar!

Broth

You know how I feel about broth —and if you don’t click here. For this gumbo I used a chicken broth prepared in the same manner as my earlier posts on broths. If you know me, you know I did not measure but my estimate would be that I used about six cups —mostly, I just added until I like the thickness.

Chicken

Often, I cook the chicken pieces for the gumbo in the stock pot to make the broth, but this time I already had a whole roasted chicken. I simply diced it and seasoned generously with creole seasoning (I like Zatarain’s).

Sausage

Sliced andouille sausage adds a nice Creole flare to the pot. Originating in France, andouille is a smoked pork sausage, and the Creole version is a bit spicy —need a family vacation idea check out LaPlace, Louisiana nicknamed, “The Andouille Capital of the World” (Note: the Boar has a lot of great vacation ideas and like a fine bottle of wine, the Boar’s family has decided to wait for a special time to uncork those trips).

Simmer and Season

Once the chicken and sausage is added to the pot, the gumbo needs to simmer. I plan at least an hour (longer if I have it. In fact, gumbo is often better the second day after it has more time for the flavors to meld). During the simmering phase is a good time to taste and add seasoning. For gumbo, I keep it simple: black pepper, kosher salt, granulated garlic, and Zatarain’s Creole seasoning.

For this gumbo I added chopped green onions just before serving. Serve the gumbo over rice. Have crackers and hot sauce on hand as well.

Put a deluge of poetic culture in your pot, my friend.

Archives for May 2015

Creating for a cause…