I love irony... and bear

So, last weekend was Rick's hunt club's annual holiday party...always an interesting event. We decided to bring a venison roast crostini; meat and bread always goes over well with guys. I found a nice horseradish sauce recipe and cooked my little heart out.

The roast came out perfect. It was very rare, just this side of still raw. The way it should be. Rick sliced it thin and it was gorgeous. We tested the crostinis, and deemed them very yummy indeed.

Where is the irony you ask? Well, I had decided to assemble the little sandwiches at the party. So I laid everything out on the counter, where people were milling about. The roast was wrapped in paper, and I had unwrapped it to start assembling. Two men (brothers, I learned) where standing next to me and as I pulled out a piece of meat, one said to me: "aren't you going to cook that?" He was serious.

I said it was cooked, just rare. Both men were horrified. "Oh, we only eat well done meat. We don't like it live."

Okay, these are men who have been shooting deer for probably 40 years ~ more importantly, field dressing the deer. And they're grossed out by pink meat? Are you kidding?

It turned out there were several people who wouldn't touch the rare meat. I was astounded, especially since venison is best rare. Weird.

That may explain what the bear, mountain lion, antelope, carribou, and other venison roasts were all well, well done (although, apparently bear and mountain lion are like pork and chicken...they must be cooked through so you don't get sick).

For the record, bear remains my favorite game meat. The antelope and mountain lion were okay; I'd probably like them better prepared differently.