Cook It; Just Don't Eat It

My sister used to have a freezer full of deer sausage. "Real good if you only know how to cook it," the benefactor had explained to her. The deer sausage was one part deer, one part pork, and one part green spices that make your eyes water. Last summer my mother decided to turn the uneaten deer sausage into chili. "If you fry it down real good, then mix it with a lot of hamburger, it's not too bad," she concluded. My sister now has a freezer full of chili.

Never one to scoff at primitive human need, this season, before the first corpse in a Baggie could appear at my door, I purchased a wild game cookbook. There is a man on the cover holding up some fish. Inside, I find I now have such recipes as walleye mousse,* crispy crappie, breast of coot, moose anachukos and porcupine. Porcupines, the book notes, are easy to catch because they're slow and "all it takes is a club to get one."

I would be tempted to do that, but I don't think I'll have the time. As soon as the winter snows melt, we're going blue-fishing.

My husband remembers a little restaurant near Cape Hatteras where they'll cook your catch. It's a dry county, but that's O.K., because they let you bring in your own bottle of booze.

And your own jar of Skippy.

*This recipe for fish served with whipped cream is, I admit, one I would not have thought of on my own.