Jerky

One of my favorite snacks is jerky made from any animal. Alligator, deer, moose, I've eaten it all. Most interesting is watching my dad make his own jerky from animals he's killed. Every winter, when deer season opens, my dad will nab a few unlucky bucks or does. The entire process is gruesome, but a necessary part I'm willing to accept.

First he strings the deer up by its legs, skins it, removes the organs, and washes it out with a water hose. The meat is chopped off the body, cleaned again, then dumped into a cooler. No part goes to waste; he fashions things from the fur, sells the organs or gives them to anyone willing to take them off his hands.

Inside the house, he uses a meat processor to slice thin strips which he will prepare for dehydration later. A mix of spices, Tabasco and Cayenne pepper mostly, is applied on both sides of the strips. Satisfied with his work, my dad unboxes the dehydrator and meticulously scrubs it. Like Tetris, he places as much as will possibly fit on the racks. Full and plugged in, the vacuum turns sloppy wet pieces of meat into crispy and spicy bits.

A night of dehydration is required for the perfect texture. We bag the jerky, seal it, and eat it as a snack, giving it to neighbors and friends as a social offering. My dad manages to make food, even something as odd as jerky, communal.