Scampwalker's Blowtorch Rellenos With Venison Gravy

I can't claim credit for any component of this recipe, but I can claim that the amalgam is all my own.

The typical stuffing pepper (literally chile relleno in Spanish) is an anaheim or poblano -- the latter (and my favorite) is similar in size to an elongated green pepper, though a much deeper green in color.  The trouble with these two varieties is that they've got tough skins -- tough enough that if you cook them without removing the skin, you get something similar to Saran Wrap encasing your peppers.  Most relleno recipes tell you to broil your peppers to sear off the skin, but I've learned the hard way that this process softens the pepper too much -- not good when you get around to frying them.

Enter the "blowtorch" portion of this recipe.  It has nothing to do with the heat of the pepper -- poblanos generally are mild, if prepped correctly.  Instead, the fire portion of the equation was pioneered by my father some 30 years ago... and it's as effective as it is just plain bad-ass.  And the kids love it.  Fire up that propane torch you've got laying around to burn the skin until it blackens and pops.  Then put the whole peppers in a paper bag for 20 minutes or so to help the skin separate from the flesh of the pepper.  Rinse off the charred skin under cold water and you're ready to go.

I'm not saying my Dad invented this blowtorch process -- you can find internet references to it these days -- but then, who was surfing the web back during the Reagan administration?

The process after that is fairly straightforward:

• Cut a slit lengthwise in each pepper, and carefully scoop out the seeds and white veins (this is where the hotness is)
• Stuff either cubed or shredded cheese in each pepper -- we used sharp cheddar this time, but a Mexican asadero is nice too
• Separate a half dozen eggs; in one bowl, beat the whites until they're stiff.  In a second bowl, mix the yolks with 1/4 cup flour, then fold that mixture into the egg whites
• Roll each stuffed pepper in a plate of dry flour, and then dip into the egg mixture, making sure the batter adheres to the pepper
• Fry it with the slit-side down side first in a cast iron skillet filled with an inch of hot oil.  Turn it when golden brown, and remove when finished

That's pretty much it.  Never being one that's content with "pretty much" though, I chose to put together a chili gravy to accompany the rellenos.  There's a terrific recipe over at the Homesick Texan, who took it from Tex-Mex authority Robb Walsh:

• Heat the 1/4 cup canola oil in a skillet over medium-high heat.
• Stir in the 1/4 cup flour and stir for 3 to 4 minutes, or until it makes a light brown roux
• Add 1/2 tsp black pepper, 1 tsp salt, 1.5 tsp garlic powder, 2 tsp cumin, 1/2 tsp oregano, and 2 tbs chili powder to the roux and constantly stir for a minute or so
• Gradually pour in two cups of chicken broth, and let simmer for 15 minutes

I gilded the lily a bit more by browning a package or two of ground venison in a separate skillet along with some chopped fresh garlic, jalapenos, and tomatoes.  After everything was cooked through, I combined the meat with the chili gravy, and poured that over the relleno.  Heaven.

As we sat there last night eating, we derived an added measure of satisfaction knowing that almost everything on our plates -- from every vegetable to the eggs to the venison -- were naturally raised and harvested.  And really, really tasty.

Scampwalker's Wild Game Throwdown, Redux 1

The food has been consumed, the wine (and beer and scotch and bourbon) have been finished off, and I've finally, fully, recovered from last Saturday night's First Annual Wild Game Throwdown.

I hope my four esteemed guests had as much fun eating the grub as I did preparing it.  Over the next week or so, I'm going to post a few recipes from the shindig.  Please give them a try, and let me know what you think.

The piece de resistance (in my opinion, anyway) was Axis venison au poivre.  As legend has it, Axis was a type of deer that was originally imported to Texas from the Indian subcontinent by cattlebarons, who were sick and tired of ranch hands poaching beef cattle for an impromptu ribeye.  Now, it runs wild (and yes, under high-fence) as an exotic across the Texas plains.  It is essentially a fat free meat --leaner than chicken breast -- yet inexplicably tastes similar to beefsteak.  Like most any venison, it's best served rare or medium rare, and the recipe I used works just as well on whitetail backstrap.

I adapted this recipe from Alton Brown, the quirky yet astute Food Network chef.  He uses beef tenderloin, but I used centimeter-thick backstrap fillets, and it was every bit as good, if not better, than the domestic version.  Here's the adapted recipe:

Ingredients:

• 1-2 lbs venison backstrap
• coarsely ground pepper
• Kosher salt
• 1 tbs unsalted butter
• 1tsp olive oil
• 1/3 cup cognac
• 2/3 cup heavy cream

Pull the steaks from the fridge for an hour before you cook them.  Rub the meat with the pepper and salt... I use 2-3 parts pepper for 1 part salt.  Don't overdo it, but amply crust it.

Heat a thick-bottomed skillet to medium, then melt the butter and olive oil.  Once the butter is melted, toss on the steaks.  Flip them after 30 seconds (for rare) to a minute (for medium rare) -- any longer than that and you might as well be frying shoe leather.  Move the steaks to a plate and cover with foil.

Pull the skillet off heat, and pour in the cognac, and light with one of those long fireplace lighters (you can use a match at your own peril).  Once the flames die (yes, alcohol burns, kids!), swirl in the cream, and slowly heat it until it thickens (usually just 2-3 minutes).  Pour the sauce over the meat and prepare for unmitigated awesomeness.

Texans: They Like Their Meat

Thanksgiving is a day that, among other things, our entire nation uses as an excuse to gorge ourselves.  It's in that spirit that I write about my most recent visit to the Lone Star State.

After last week's successful deer hunting trip, I met my parents in San Antonio for a brief 24 hours.  On the way from San Antonio to Fredericksburg, we stopped at Rudy's Barbecue, something of a legend in those parts for quality 'cue.  I hadn't eaten there since college (many more years ago than I care to admit), and my memories were fond.

I opted for the "beef" (also called brisket or sliced beef, or any combination thereof).  It was outstanding -- smoky, tender, and not a bit dry.  Wedged between two slices of stick-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth Wonderbread, slathered in sauce, it was heaven.  In my opinion, sliced beef defines Texas barbecue, and you won't get much better than Rudy's.  Appropriately enough, Rudy's is also housed in a convenience store and gas station -- not unlike my K.C. favorite, Oklahoma Joe's.  Coincidence?  I think not.

That evening, my parents and I attended the Gillespie County Wild Game Dinner at the fairgrounds.  And good thing, because I'm sure it attracted well over 500 attendees.  What a hoot!  For 20 bucks, you were entitled to every kind of wild critter under the sun, as well as an open bar that served Pilsner Urquell on tap and Becker Reserve Cabernet.

But the real belle of the ball was the dinner.  It was served buffet style from seven stations, and I had everything from axis venison chili to smoked wild turkey to chicken fried scimitar oryx.  And it was all good (which can't always be said for some wild game feeds).  Most notable?  Not a vegetable in sight!  (Of course, back when I lived in the Lone Star State, I quickly learned that a Texan's idea of vegetables typically includes pinto beans, mashed potatoes, and corn.)

After the dinner, there was a huge live auction that featured tons o' guns, hunting trips, and various assorted Texana.  It was a quick trip, but uniquely Texan nonetheless.

We Interrupt This Bird Season To Bring You A Deer Hunt

No prose here, just a couple bragging photos of a big buck I took over the weekend down near Brackettville, Texas on Lindsey Creek Ranch.  He was a nice, large-bodied nine-pointer that showed himself while crossing a sendero about 100 yards from our blind.

Preferring the rush of a covey rise and the thrill of good dog work, I don't think I'll ever be a hard-core deer hunter.  But there's definitely a thrill seeing a big brute like this one come in and show himself within gun range.  And I'm already looking forward to putting that venison to good use.

Grilled Axis Venison T-Bones

Last month, while on a turkey hunting trip in South Texas, I had the serendipitous opportunity to shoot a nice mature Axis buck in addition to a gobbler or two. Although I'm more of a bird hunter, I do enjoy big game hunting... and I really love cooking and eatin' me some wild venison.

That's what this post is about. Just last week, we received ~65 pounds of frozen meat from the locker, and I was most intrigued by the packages labeled "t-bone." That's not a usual cut of meat from a deer (most of the best stuff is filleted), but it certainly piqued my curiosity and I decided to thaw a package or two for a Saturday night feast.

So many venison dishes are overcooked and overseasoned, so I decided my preparation would be a simple one: a dash of Penzey's Chicago Steak Seasoning, and that was it. After bringing the Weber Genesis to about 500 degrees, I lowered the temp of my middle burner and seared it for two minutes, then turned it 90 degrees and seared it two more minutes, and repeated the process on the other side.

I topped the venison with vidalia onions, and plated it with grilled green and white asparagus, and a smoked baked potato smothered in with bleu cheese and sauteed mushrooms. To wash it all down, we opened a very tasty bottle of Spanish La Mano Mencia Roble.

As you might guess, it was outstanding. Axis venison is known as one of the best types of deer for the table, and every one of the South Texas guides I hunted with told me it was Axis they had in their freezers 365 days of the year. These chops were right on the money -- full flavored, beefy, and moist -- yet lean and sublime. Like its beef counterpart, keeping the t-bone as part of the cut afforded even more flavor and some bone-gnawing goodness. Not a bad Mother's Day weekend meal!