EDMONTON, ALBERTA – It’s starting to gnaw on my mind, which has some OCD traits. My mind is more of the “obsessive” part of OCD, without the “compulsive” aspects. When I start thinking about something, either a problem or a situation or something that I know I need to deal with, I’ll obsess over it until it’s “over.” Impulsive? Yeah, I’ve been that, often to my detriment. But I’m starting to think: “I just know I’m gonna have to try some of that elk, moose and deer meat sitting in my freezer during this two-week quarantine.”
As I sit here in my Airbnb in Day 3 (technically at least, I hope I get credit from the authorities for being in my place before midnight of the 18th) I still have plenty of the food I showed you yesterday, the normal food. My media friend buddy who lives up here (who wants to remain anonymous for now) not only picked me up at the airport with several bags of groceries, but also gave me this bag of “wild game” meat:
In the plastic bag is venison, or deer meat. Moose meat is marked, and the other meat not marked is elk.
I grew up in New Hampshire, where hunters are everywhere and everyone eats venison and maybe elk and moose too, but I preferred Celeste frozen pizza and Devil Dogs. I’m your typical, culinarily-unexciting American. I know, I know. I’ve eaten plenty of poultry and regular beef in my life, plenty of pork and seafood too. So why not some meat from other sources?
I don’t know, I’m just, no pun intended, chicken about it.
To try or not to try. I know I’m going to have to. I will feel ashamed if I don’t.
The last time I tried something really “exotic”, food-wise, was a Rocky Mountain oyster. More than a few people, when I first moved to Denver, said I would never be a “true Coloradoan” until I ate my first Rocky Mountain oyster, which if you don’t know what they are made of, here you go.
I’ll be honest, I thought I was going to puke after sliding that RMO in my mouth. I almost did. It was gross. But I ate it. I’m a true Coloradoan.
I feel the same pressure now with my unsolicited freezer full of wild game. I’m in freakin’ Canada after all. So many Canadians – and more than a couple Americans – have told me that all three meats are “delicious” and that I won’t regret it. Just like they always say “the needle won’t hurt” (it does) and “your body will get used to the freezing water” (you don’t). Am I being led down the same kind of primrose path?
I guess I’ll find out. Maybe.