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May 2006 NewsletterJim Casada
Web site:
www.jimcasadaoutdoors.com Mama Always Knew BestMay is the month in which we remember our mothers and celebrate Memorial Day. My Mom belonged to what historians are now calling “the greatest generation,” and she possessed a lot of the qualities that makes that description so appropriate. She was a worker rather than a whiner, a giver who never expected anything in return but who was intensely delighted when she did receive something, a staunch patriot, but most of all, a wonderful parent. Hers was a rough life, at least in economic terms, up until her marriage (she married late, at the age of 27, and Dad was 32 when they tied the knot), and in truth my parents never had a great deal in terms of material wealth. Yet they never owed a penny, never borrowed a penny except for the mortgage on their home, knew the intense satisfaction of living close to the land, and fully appreciated the concept of “make do” by using Mother Nature as an invaluable ally. Here’s a tribute to Mom, followed by a sampling of her favorite recipes. Like most boys who grew up in the 1950s and lived in a rural setting, I had a whole host of sporting mentors. My father, an avid hunter and fly fisherman, ranked foremost among them, but some of his buddies, my paternal grandfather, an uncle, and others also helped shape and mold me as a sportsman. All the while though, there was another quiet but vitally important influence who affected virtually every aspect of my love for the myriad wonders of the outdoors – my mom. No matter what outdoor pursuit occupied my attention, Mama was always there to share my interest and provide quiet encouragement. She was absolutely delighted when I landed my first fish, a small bluegill, and just as devastated when she failed to secure it properly and we both watched it flop down a steep bank to watery freedom. Over the years she endured a lot of good-natured kidding about the way the incident brought howls of anguish from me. Other than that fishing adventure at the age of four, most of my earliest recollections of Mama’s impact on my involvement in the outdoors revolve around harvesting nature’s bounty. Orphaned when she was an infant, Mama knew little but hard, lean times throughout her childhood and early adult years. Accordingly, she was extraordinarily frugal and always anxious to supplement our family fare with foods from the natural world. She helped me earn the first “cash money” ever placed in the wooden silver chest that did double duty as my youthful bank. This involved gathering poke salad for sale (it brought a whopping twenty-five cents for a number eight paper bag filled to the top). Similarly, Mama encouraged me to pick blackberries for a quarter a gallon and often went along on the berrying expeditions. She indulgently tolerated, indeed approved, further boyhood moneymaking schemes such as catching night crawlers to sell as bait (they brought a penny apiece), scrambling in branches to seine minnows and capture spring lizards that brought premium prices from smallmouth bass enthusiasts, and other activities. Throughout my teenage years, Mama was a sort of a background accomplice in all sorts of hunting and fishing adventures. She laughed when I went into training for camping trips by sleeping on the bedroom floor, saying “that’s a good idea.” She turned her considerable sewing talents to good effect in creating all sorts of clothing and gear that could be used in connection with my backpacking trips or sporting outings. Never once did she mutter a word about trout being cleaned in the kitchen sink or squirrels, rabbits, quail, and grouse being dressed in the same place. “Just be sure you clean up the mess when you finish,” she would say, “and then I’ll help you put the meat in the refrigerator or freezer.” She welcomed the addition fish and small game made to our table fare, and even today thoughts of the culinary wonders she could work with a mess of trout or a few squirrels set my gastric juices into overdrive. When it came to trout, right up until her death we had a standard exchange whenever I headed out the door for a fishing trip. “Do you want me to keep a limit of fish?” I would ask. Her reply was an enthusiastic “yes” along with muttering something about nobody but a fool turning loose something that tasted so good. Her views on today’s popular “catch and release” philosophy involved “release to grease” or “hook to cook.” Mama’s role as a kitchen magician has had an enduring influence with me, and her recipes figure prominently in the many game cookbooks my wife and I have written. No one could have been a better, more supportive audience when it came to listening to my accounts, as boy and man, of hunting and fishing experiences. It wasn’t that Mama was just humoring me by listening in a good-natured way; she genuinely wanted to hear all about what had transpired while I was afield or astream. At various times she served as sporting chauffeur (taking me to nearby streams when Dad came home at lunch then picking me up at dusk), advocate (I could always count on her to take a positive view of proposals for anything from a family camping trip to an extended backpacking adventure with some buddies), and hostess (she tolerated invasions by hosts of hungry hunters bringing mud into her kitchen and raiding her pantry as a matter of course). Mama’s been gone for six years, but memories of her still constantly brighten my outdoor days and lighten my sporting ways. In her warm, winsome fashion, Mama somehow always knew best. She was a great and enduring blessing to my life as a sportsman, and on Mother’s Day it is only fitting to honor her memory. ANNA LOU’S SQUIRRELAnna Lou was my mother’s name, and the wonders she could work with bushytails, which were the most popular game animal across much of the South in the 1950s and 1960s, still bring tears of sheer culinary joy to my eyes. 2 squirrels, dressed Place dressed squirrel in a large saucepan. Cover with cold water, add the teaspoon of soda and bring to a boil. Remove from heat and rinse squirrel well under running water (rubbing to remove the soda). Return to pan and cover with fresh water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer until tender. Place squirrel in a baking dish, dot with butter, and bake at 350 degrees until brown and crusty. Use the broth from the cooking to make gravy, and serve with sweet potatoes Rabbit can be prepared the same way. BAKED RABBIT2 rabbits, cut into serving-size pieces Place the rabbit in a Dutch oven with a small amount of water and simmer until tender. Remove from the pan and place in a casserole dish. Pour margarine over rabbit and season to taste. Bake at 350 degrees for 15-20 minutes or until golden brown. Gravy and be made from the pan drippings. PAN-FRIED TROUTMom dearly loved to cook and eat wild trout fresh from the
mountain streams of our highland homeland, and I dearly loved to
catch them. In that regard we made a good team. Her preferred method
for preparing them is the essence of simplicity, although it should
be noted that it works best with small trout – 10 inches or less in
length. Cook the bacon until crisp and set aside. It can be crumbled atop a salad eaten with the trout or used to flavor fried potatoes and onions. Either (or both) make great accompaniments for fried trout. Thoroughly coat each trout with corn meal, being sure to cover the body cavity as well as the outside. Bring the bacon grease to a high level of heat (almost smoking) in a large frying pan and add the trout one at a time. It is essential that the grease be hot if you want to avoid trout soaking too much of it up. Turn the trout once, frying to a golden brown, drain atop paper towels, and eat at once. There’s nothing quite like crisp, brown trout wearing cornmeal overcoats, and the suggested portion of two or three per person might not be enough if you are dining in a backwoods setting. Thank you for subscribing to the
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