Mrs. Curmudgeon is the cook of the household. She’s far better at food than I. (I think that’s a matter of priorities. In general, if I’ve produced adequate healthy calories, I’ve done enough. If it’s bland but you’re not going to die… well that’s good enough. Flavor and spices and shit are nice to have but once I’ve cleared the “no starvation” bar I start to tune out. I’m not the only guy that’s like that.)
In the holiday season Mrs. Curmudgeon shines like a rock star! She goes apeshit cooking food. She cooks in what feels like buckets and truckloads. She could feed an army; and what a lucky army it would be! We regularly have more dishes than we have guests. She makes absolutely stunning food. It’s a sight to behold! It baffles me. Also it’s all done on the fly using skill (or magic) because I swear she’s never followed a recipe in her life. When she sees me messing around with a measuring spoon her first thought is to slap the offending implement away. From my uninformed point of view it looks like she “wings it” to culinary success.
I’m not kidding when I say it’s impressive. She’s been known to churn out more delicious pies (in various types) than people at the table!
“After dinner is over, everyone pick their favorite pie!”
No shit! A zillion assorted pies. Just pick one and have at it! Is that not awesome?
This Christmas she was a tired as I. At my prompting, she sensibly rested by the fire while I took the wheel in the kitchen. Since I’m me, I tried an entirely different approach than her dazzling creations. In a development near and dear to my Cro-Magnon heart, we had what I called a “down home, inflation-proof, bunker level, meal o’ heartiness“.
My plan was simple, I’d feed us all with food I’d raised or hunted. Why? Because real food is delicious. Also, I have a lot of it and we might as well get used to it. We’re probably already in a world where supply chains are… um… not what they once were. So let’s embrace it. There was to be nothing elaborate but plenty of what we did have. That’s how I roll!
One can go overboard with games like that. (I’ve yet to figure out how to hunt butter and I’m not going to make a rice paddy in the yard.) Like a sane man, I leavened idealism with realistic expectations. Regardless, I still got to where I wanted to go. Everyone was happy so I didn’t fret too much over the details. Also, there was no pie. I couldn’t make a Mrs. Curmudgeon level pie if my life depended on it.
Preparation for my Curmudgeonly Christmas Feast took all year and just a few moments on the day itself.
This summer I “experimented” with corn; planting half assed rows in an abandoned pig pen. I more or less ignored the crop after that. I specifically limited my labors because I’m already too busy; I wanted corn but not another job. I spent the summer wondering if the weeds or the corn would win the arms race. When the time came, I waded through a jungle to find corn doing ok right in the middle of the mess!
I didn’t get a huge yield but it tasted great. One afternoon we had more corn than I felt like eating. We’d already had corn on the cob several times. So Mrs. Curmudgeon and I “saved” several ears worth. We did it about the most primitive way possible. We cut the raw kernels off the cob, crammed the results in four large ziplock bags, and hurled them into the freezer. That’s it. Would it work? Only a Christmas meal would tell.
In November I readied the main course. I shot a deer and then did all the steps of butchering and preservation.
Butchering is an area in life where I’m “leveling up”. It took forever to become a reasonably competent hunter and I humbly think I’ve finally accomplished that. However, I’d formerly ignored butchering. For years I brought big game straight from the forest to a butcher. My main involvement after the hammer dropped was to drag the animal to my truck, haul it somewhere, and cut a check.
That’s not particularly cool as woodsman but I’ve no regrets. I’ve got only so many hours in the day and butchers are the only readily available labor pool. I’d much prefer doing my own butchering and spend my money on skilled services like plumbers. But there are no plumbers. Since I can actually find a butcher, I happily hired them! I wanted to take stress off my busy schedule and they’re literally all I can hire.
That was then and this is now. Now, it’s a recession. (Don’t let anyone tell you different!) For that reason and others, I wanted to level up. I’ve slowly been upgrading my butchering skills (it’s not hard but it’s a lot of physical work!). I after a few years “being my own butcher” I expanded into canning.
With the helpful mentoring of a friend who knows his shit, I gingerly ventured into “the pressure canning zone”. Pressure canning is not rocket science but I sure appreciated a nudge in the right direction.
Sealed pressurized vessels are a thing to which you ought to pay attention. Follow the instructions, don’t overpressure your vessel, don’t blow up the kitchen, be patient, etc… It works well with my personality which zones out when told to “add a pinch of salt” but targets like a laser when told “heat at X pounds for Y minutes”. Incidentally, I love pressure canning. It’s pretty cool to start with a critter and end up with a perfectly sealed jar.
Everything from the deer that was good enough to be steak got wrapped and tossed into the freezer as steak (thus burying the forgotten corn). Everything slightly less awesome than “steak” got cut into stew meat chunks, pre-cooked, and put into the canner. I used virtually no flavoring except some salt; which is fine because it smelled heavenly and tasted better. The remaining critter bits went through the grinder to become “burger”. Don’t think that’s bad stuff! I’ll take a deer-cheeseburger over cow anytime.
Canning was a lot of work but the process appeared to be a success. However, I hadn’t yet cracked open a jar to taste it yet.
You won’t be surprised that I get a whole lot more food out of a critter when I butcher it myself compared to when I hire it done. It’s an almost comically obvious discovery, but I verified it as true.
Well before Christmas our guests heard about the canned deer. This prompted a lot of inquiries. “How does it taste? Is it safe? What’s it look like? Does it have good texture?” I had no idea. Why not join us to find out on the holiday? It became like a present. “Lets open this jar and see what happens.”
I think of canned meat as “pioneer food”. I didn’t have any expectation it would be better than frozen. I was wrong! It was waaaaaay better! Pressure canning was developed for a time before reliable power girds and freezers but that doesn’t mean it’s bland. (Also, we might as well get used to jars. Reliable 24/7 power grid conditions came from a society run by intelligent serious adults. What will you do when dipshits make the whole grid “green” and your freezer goes without power every third week? Q: “What did socialists use for light before candles?” A: “Electricity!”)
I didn’t expect anyone to care about my experiments but interest was palpable. Then I tasted some. I get it now! Our elders were onto something. I was tasty! Just plain delicious!
In November, (after the deer) as “practice”, I canned a big bag of carrots. My second use of the canner and another addition to the meal!
A few days before Christmas I attacked a ten pound bag of potatoes. I prepared enough to fill all the quart jars I had left. I annoyed Mrs. Curmudgeon by leaving 4 unused potatoes in a 99% empty bag but that’s what happens when a nerd carefully celebrates his “canning volume”. Over a mellow afternoon I peeled, chopped, boiled, and canned several quarts of potato. It’s work, but it felt rewarding.
Like the carrots, this wasn’t a crop I’d grown, but you have to start somewhere. Potatoes were my third “batch” of canning. They came out pretty well if I do say so myself.
The Big Day:
On Christmas day we had guests coming, so I did the right thing and took a nap. One can get overworked trying to make holidays perfect! I decided to go “low stress” and I meant it. I enjoyed that two hour snooze!
After guests arrived I started opening jars. I expected the meal to be “quasi-instant” and I was correct.
The potatoes and carrots were stupid simple to prepare. Drain the fluid, dump the jar contents into a bowl, nuke until hot, add salt and pepper (if I remembered). A monkey could do it. Start with a pantry filled with righteously canned foods and you can’t go wrong.
I found a couple bags of the raw frozen corn under a ton of other things in the freezer. I dumped it in a bowl and nuked the raw frozen kernels. Just as everything else, it was stupid simple to cook and it came out delicious. It tasted like a summer afternoon!
The meat was too valuable for my attentions so Mrs. Curmudgeon took over. Even so, it was dirt simple. I drained the liquid into a saucepan. Mrs. Curmudgeon jumped in front of me lest I do something terrible like measure ingredients or consult a recipe. She did some sort of magic voodoo while I wandered around the kitchen getting in everyone’s way. Whatever she added turned the saucepan liquid into delicious gravy. For all I know it was uranium.
Meanwhile, I dumped the meat into a skillet and stirred lazily. I kept grabbing bits out of the skillet (even cold and unseasoned the meat was delicious!). Mrs. Curmudgeon grabbed a spatula and tried to defend the skillet from my predations. She also added a handful of elixirs and powders (she calls them spices but they’re magic to me). As soon as it was warm, the saucepan of gravy went on top. Yum!
Fresh bread appeared. I have a wheat mill but I was too lazy to make dough. Mrs. Curmudgeon somehow conjured the bread. I assume she has a magic wand or something.
Meat, gravy, potatoes, carrots, corn, fresh bread. Everything the product of simple cooking. Nothing we ate would be out of place in 1920 (or 1820). Most of it came from my own efforts and all the effort was on the front end. Once it’s in a jar, reheating is a monkey level task. (Aside from the gravy which is probably more complex than cold fusion.)
It sounds crude and it was… but everything was amazing!
We all had a great meal. I was pleased. If I’d been in a fancy restaurant I couldn’t have had more flavor. If I’d been a king I couldn’t have felt more wealthy. If I’d climbed a mountain to get the potatoes I couldn’t have felt more proud.
Obviously, I’ll never compete with Mrs. Curmudgeon’s gourmet pies but that’s not the point. This year’s meal was just right for the world in which we’ve been thrown. We ate like farmers from three generations back and it was perfect. It was better than the most expensive meal money could buy. Everyone was happy.
It may have been one of the best Christmas meals ever! Never forget the joy (and wonderful taste!) of simple things.