Doe, a deer

A pan-fried deer. Wayne, a guy who eats the heart.

By Jill Strauss

The most unusual present I ever received when I was a schoolteacher in Lebanon, Maine, years ago, was a crumpled brown bag filled with raw meat. This was not a gag gift foisted on me by a juvenile jokester. A deer hunter, who happened to be the appreciative father of one of my students, handed the meat to me before class one November morning.

“Thelma told me you like venison,” he said proudly as he placed the heavy lunch bag in my hands, “so I thought you might want to make some stew.” It’s true I like venison. In fact, I love the mellow, farm-raised red deer I have enjoyed at several fine white tablecloth restaurants in New England, but up until that moment with Thelma’s father, I had never encountered freshly butchered white-tail and I was not sure what to do with the bloody shoulder chunks. Not wanting to offend this generous hunter, however, I thanked the man and pretended that I knew exactly what to do with the gift.

A gift of venison is “a joy to some, a matter of secret internment to others,” according to a passage from the game section of my trusty old Joy of Cooking, by Irma S. Rombauer and her daughter Marion. I consulted this cookbook as soon as I got home and quickly realized that the success of the venison dish I was about to prepare partially depended on certain things (such as the way the game is shot, the way it is gutted, the length of time it is aged) that were beyond my control. It seemed unproductive to worry about these details at such a late date, however, so I crossed my fingers and proceeded with the book’s instructions to marinate, drain, dry, and braise the meat just as I would a traditional beef stew with wine. I did throw in a few crushed juniper berries, as they go well with venison, but alas, although the meat was tender enough, the additives could not mask the harsh and gamy flavor of the gravy. And thereafter I vowed to avoid wild venison.

Years later, after listening to my best friend Allan boast about the first young buck he got with one shot, and how he hung it way up on a spreader in the ridge of the barn and let it age for a week, and how grateful his hungry family was for the flavorful meat, I wondered if I had jumped the gun. Maybe not all white-tail tastes so strong. Maybe if I spent enough time in the woods, I would learn to appreciate the sharp taste of the wild. And so I decided this fall to join men dressed in neon orange at 5 a.m. at the American Legion’s Annual Hunter’s Breakfast in Kennebunk. Allan urged me to arrive at the breakfast before 6 a.m., since many hunters believe their best chance to spot a deer is just after sunrise.

Farm-raised venison: Russell Acres Farm, 7 Russell Farm Road, Kennebunk, (207) 985-2435. Or dine on venison at: 98 Provence, 262 Shore Road, Ogunquit, (207) 646-9898. Hugo’s, 88 Middle Street, Portland (207) 774-8538.

“The goal of the hunting experience isn’t so much to shoot a deer as it to watch the sun come up, listen to the birds in the trees,” confided 71-year-old George LeBarge from Wells, as I sat down beside him with my plate of scrambled eggs and sausage. LeBarge, a discriminating gentleman who has been hunting deer since he was 11, is also a culinary purist. He cautioned me not to get “exotic” when cooking game. When making a stew he limits his ingredients to venison, carrots, onions, potatoes, and a little liquid, all of which go into a pressure cooker. “After you cook everything, a natural stock develops,” he said. “Then you add butter and flour to thicken it, and you can add salt and pepper.”

LeBarge scoffed at the idea of adding wine or herbs and berries, but he did feel that bacon was a permissible supplement when frying venison steak, since venison is so low in fat. “That’s the beauty of the meat. It’s so lean. You have to be careful not to overcook it or it will turn to leather.”

“The man behind you is a liver lover,” volunteered 35-year-old Wayne Dumas from Kennebunk when he realized that I was interested in the hunter’s perspective on venison. Dumas almost whispered this tidbit to me, acknowledging that wild deer, particularly the liver of wild deer, can be a little too tangy for some palates. “I leave it in the woods. But I keep the heart. My pocket’s big enough so I stick the heart right in my camel pants.” I must have been staring at Dumas in disbelief because he countered a bit defensively, “Ask him!” Dumas pointed to his 15-year-old son who was nodding his head in agreement. “Him and his sisters will fight over it.”

“You’re missing out,” said another hunter in a brilliant carrot colored cap when he realized I had never eaten heart before. “The heart is the best part. First you slice it. Then you fry it in a cast iron pan with butter. The liver has a velvety texture, but the heart is softer than liver.” At this point, I really wanted to taste the heart of a wild deer, but it seemed the chances of that happening were not good since I don’t have a rifle or a hunting license and nobody wanted to take me along with them. “Give me your name and number,” said the hunter in the cap (who was too shy to give me his name), and I’ll call you if I get a deer. So I did. I feel a bit like Snow White’s evil stepmother, checking my messages every day to see if my hunter has brought me the heart I desire. So far, no luck.

In the meantime, I have been keeping busy by searching out farm-raised venison. I recently pan-fried a loin that I purchased from Phillip Parker, co-owner of Russell Acres Farm in Kennebunk, Maine and was delighted with the succulent and sweet outcome. Unlike wild deer that sometimes feed on a few too many acorns, Parker’s domesticated red deer are given a balanced diet of hormone-free grain and Parker insists this has a significant effect on the texture and taste of the meat.

If you don’t know a generous hunter and you don’t feel like preparing your own venison, have dinner at 98 Provence in Ogunquit and order chef Pierre Gignac’s venison special of the evening. Gignac gets his farm-raised venison from New Zealand whenever possible. The thick loin medallions are perfectly seared on the outside and ruby red on the inside. Accompanying the dense meat is a rich poivrade sauce that has just the right amount of contrasting bite.

Other fabulous venison treats await you at Hugo’s in Portland. The carpaccio appetizer, for example, includes mild, thinly pounded venison that is meltingly soft. The raw meat, which comes from the leg of locally farm-raised deer, is layered over a mustard vinaigrette and topped with frisée, wild mushrooms, and imported extra virgin olive oil. Chef Rob Evans’s roasted venison entrée is also created from the leg of the deer. The leg is a less expensive cut of deer, but Evans is so clever at boning and preparing the meat, you would swear it comes from the loin. The accompanying sauce, laced with cassis and burgundy wine, is also divine.

I may be too accustomed to creature comforts and too in love with refined food to ever fully appreciate the pungent taste of wild venison stew, but I am open-minded about this issue, and if my hunter ever calls with my wild venison heart, I promise I will cook it as he instructs and cherish the gift.

Jill Strauss can be reached at straussj@adelphia.net.