BARRISTER BITES By: Angelia Morie Nystrom The UT Foundation Institute of Agriculture
BIRD IS THE WORD I hate birds. Don’t get me wrong: I think they can be pretty, and I am amazed by their ability to fly with those fragile wings. However, I am extremely scared of anything that can fly toward my head. I have always had this fear, but it intensified many years ago after a series of unfortunate encounters with a mockingbird. After law school, I purchased a little red Chevrolet Cavalier Z-24. It was small, fast and economical. It was perfect for a young, struggling lawyer. I loved that car…. And apparently a mockingbird that had taken up residence near my home did, too. For weeks, every time I tried to get into my car, that stupid bird would dive at my head. I tried everything to keep him away: screaming, file folders, an umbrella, a tennis racquet. I even called TWRA to see if they could dispatch him. After the officer finished laughing at my request, he told me that mockingbirds, as the State bird, are a protected species and that I was on my own. My disdain for birds has continued; however, as long as they are not dive-bombing me, I don’t want to see them dead. My husband, on the other hand, has a different philosophy. Hugh is an avid wingshooter and loves nothing more than to spend his free time bird hunting. When Trace was young and we were still in what I term the “toddler bubble,” Hugh decided to go hunting with some friends. At the end of the trip, he came home with a bag of bloody birds, which he deposited in our garage freezer. As much as I love cooking, I am disgusted by the sight of raw meat if it has liquid with it. This packet of birds was especially loathsome. I let Hugh know that he was responsible for cooking them, as I had no intention whatsoever of dealing with them. Unfortunately, a couple of weeks later, our power went off and stayed off for a couple of days. When I went to the garage refrigerator, it looked like something from a horror movie. The bag had not been sealed well, and blood from the birds was running out of the freezer, down the door and into the floor of our garage. After that incident, Hugh’s wingshooting days came to an end (at least for a number of years). As Trace got older, Hugh was hoping that he had found a hunting buddy. Those hopes were realized when Trace, at 10, shot a robin in our backyard with his Red Ryder BB gun. After that incident, I advised Trace that the rule of our house was, “You kill it—you eat it.” Again, as much as I dislike birds, I don’t want to see them dead. This year, Hugh decided that Trace was old enough to go dove hunting. He has participated in several Boy Scout shooting courses and has even participated in sporting clays tournaments with Hugh.
November 2020
Hugh has often remarked that Trace is a really good shot, and he was excited to see what Trace could do in a dove field. As they left for their trip, I again advised of the house rule (you kill it, you eat it)… and also advised that I did not want to see bloody birds in my freezer. Per Hugh, Trace shot the first three birds of the day (within the first ten minutes). He also saw Hugh shoot one mid-flight and then catch it in his hand before it hit the ground. Needless to say, Trace was hooked. At the end of the day, they arrived home with a bag full of birds that had been cleaned extremely well (ie., not bloody). As much as I love to cook, I have never tried to prepare wild game. Trace was extremely excited to be able to eat the doves that he shot and decided that he would actually find a recipe and cook them. I was fine with that. Hugh and Trace scoured the internet for recipes and settled on smoked jalapeno dove poppers. To make them, Trace used dove breasts, fresh jalapenos, a jar of chopped jalapenos, season salt, cream cheese and bacon. He began by removing the breasts from the bone and dividing each breast into two lobes. He then sprinkled the meat with salt and pepper. Next, he sliced the jalapenos lengthwise and removed the seeds. He then mixed softened cream cheese with chopped jalapenos (from a jar) and season salt. Trace cut the bacon slices in half so that they were the appropriate length to wrap around the poppers. To prepare the poppers for grilling, Trace spooned some of the cream cheese mixture into each jalapeno, laid a piece of dove meat on top, and then wrapped each one with a bacon slice, securing it with a toothpick. He and Hugh decided that they would be good smoked. (Hugh purchased a Traeger smoker at the start of the COVID shutdown and uses every available opportunity to smoke things.) They set the smoker temperature to 180 ° and smoked them for about an hour. Then, they increased the temperature to 375° and grilled them for about 10 minutes, turning once, to ensure that the bacon was crisp. I have never been a huge fan of wild game, but I really enjoyed the dove poppers. They had a complex flavor, and you could taste each of the ingredients with each bite. The dove and the bacon were a nice combination. The jalapenos gave the poppers some heat, and the cream cheese “cooled” them down a bit. Although I am not a huge fan of bird hunting, I am glad that Hugh has found a hunting buddy in Trace. And the house rule has now changed: “You kill it-- we eat it.”
DICTA
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