This fall, drop your tailgate and have a ‘shore lunch’ of wild game

Many years ago, during my eighth-grade summer, my late father went on a fishing trip to the Churchill River in northern Saskatchewan – a vast system of finger lakes and tributaries located in one of the most remote and pristine angling outposts in North America.

Aside from the stunning northwoods scenery, crystalline waters, and hurts-so-good hand and finger lacerations from catching so many walleyes and pike, my father could not stop raving about the shore lunch. He loved to tell the story of how it was prepared each day by his Cree Indian guide; how the fried walleye, crispy potatoes, and baked beans tasted better than any meal you’d ever eaten, like it had been prepared by a Michelin-starred chef; and how the trip, heightened by the wild food prepared and served in a wild setting, was a seminal moment in his outdoors life.

“There was just something about eating the fish you had just caught, in the middle of this Canadian wilderness, with your friends,” he’d say about the experience in various ways over the years. “It not only tasted better, but you knew you were part of something special.”

I think about that story a lot, though not during fishing season. I think about it this time of year, when autumn’s riot of colors set the Upper Midwest’s prairies and woods ablaze.

I wonder why more bird and big-game hunters don’t embrace the shore lunch culture that’s a romantic fixture of northwoods angling. Some do, of course, in varying degrees. Still, preparing wild game afield doesn’t seem to awake the sleepy sensibilities of hunters as does the ageless tradition of anglers frying beer-battered walleye in a bubbling pool of lard.

But it should. Here’s why:

Preparing what you kill in the wild not only further enriches your hunting experience, it completes it. The predator-prey relationship comes full circle. The wild food provides a moment for reflection and giving thanks. It inspires great conversations, even debate. The tailgate – part stove top, part table – becomes a sort of stage where post-hunt memories are made.

“We like to take out the inside loins and season them with Lawry’s Seasoned Salt and cook them medium-rare on the open fire,” said my cousin and hunting partner, describing how part of the first whitetail felled at his deer camp each year is prepared. It’s a tradition spanning several years.

“It’s really simply done, but it’s so delicious, and I think it has to do with that quick turnaround, from the field to the table. It’s part of deer camp that I think really look forward to,” he says.

Although I had been throwing spring wild-game parties for many years, I didn’t get my start in al fresco wild-game cookery until I was around 30. By happenstance, no less.

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My cousin and I were hunting ducks in northeastern South Dakota. Just before leaving my home in Red Wing, and on a whim, I put a small gas grill in my truck box, figuring we might need it for burgers. After a fine morning of hunting (and three blue-winged teal on my meat strap), my cousin eyed the grill, and I could see the gears starting to grind in his head.

“That grill works, doesn’t it?” he asked, knowing we were 50 miles from the closest town and ravenously hungry.

We didn’t have any cookware or kitchen basics – no plates, no utensils, no cutting board, no kitchen knives, no napkins, no oil, and no spices. Undaunted, we found some salt and pepper packets in my glove box and, after breasting-out the blue-winged teal, my cousin grilled them to oh-so-perfect medium rare. We ate them with our bare hands, 200 yards as the crow flies from where we shot them. They were delicious. This was living, we thought.

The following spring, I was all in. Before the spring snow goose season commenced, I had assembled a modest mobile kitchen with various extras, all of which fit into a jumbo-sized rubber tote.

What to source? Start with two frying pans (10- and 12-inch) and a Dutch oven. A sauce pan and perhaps even a cast iron skillet, which conducts heat extremely well. Plates (the sturdy paper variety works well), bowls, utensils, kitchen knives (a fillet knife works, too), tongs, a spatula, etc.

Let me be clear: You don’t need to purchase your cookware from All-Clad or Le Creuset to cook in the wild. In fact, you can source everything you need – for dirt cheap, too – at garage sales and thrift stores. Online finds are another easy-peasy way to find cooking equipment. I once purchased a perfectly operational camp stove for $10. You can outfit yourself for less than $100. My cousin and I pooled our resources and you should, too.

In addition to cookware and utensils, I purchased various containers of spices (salt, pepper, Lawry’s, garlic salt, cayenne, paprika, etc.) and put them into a Ziploc bag; a bottle of olive oil, because you need fat to cook and olive oil keeps well; a bottle of red wine, which could be used to make a pan sauce; and a small bottle of vinegar, because every dish needs a wee-bit of acidity. All were put safely into the tote.

I also purchased a small handheld cooler, in which I stored some other essentials: onions, garlic, mushrooms, fresh herbs, butter, etc. What you bring is up to you and should (obviously) correspond with the dishes you intend to make.

When we got to northeastern South Dakota to hunt spring snow geese, my old friend and hunting buddy, Gordie (who lives there), was skeptical about turning his little part of the prairie into a cooking roadshow.

Still, my buddy – a bulbous-shaped mountain of a man – loves to eat. He hunts more than any human I know and works up quite an appetite.

After a hunt, he typically wants to hit the closest café for a burger and fries or beef commercial. Along the way, he fortifies himself with the treats from his sugary temptress, Little Debbie.

But this was different.

“Keep an open mind, Gord,” I said. “No man can subsist on Honey Buns alone.”

After a slow morning of hunting in the fog, we still managed to kill a half-dozen snows, all young-of-the-year birds. Out came the tote, and it was game on. We all helped make my cousin’s famous wild rice stoup – which, in consistency, is between a soup and a stew. I diced up the goose breasts and sautéed them in a pan, and then added some onion and carrots and seasonings. My cousin had already prepped the wild rice and the bacon. In 20 minutes, we had a one-pot meal cooking on the tailgate of my truck. The only thing missing was some crusty bread, which I forgot to bring.

“This is so good,” my South Dakota buddy moaned.

What you cook afield is up to you. You can go simple or you can go gourmet. Just plan accordingly. I’ve made many different appetizers and dishes afield, with duck, goose, pheasants, grouse, turkey, and venison.

Grilled duck is among my favorites. It’s easy and delicious. Others prefer my pheasant piccata, chicken-fried pheasant, and pheasant nuggets with a ketchup and horseradish sauce.

Autumn is here, and the hunting season is on. Grab a tote, assemble your kitchen gear, and get at it. Few things are better than wild food prepared and served in a wild setting. Once upon a time, my Old Man learned that lesson well.