On Necks

Asterisks, White; harvests; venison roast.

Took out last week the last neck roast from a buck I shot last fall. Salted it on Monday, peppered it, doused it with half a bottle of Chardonnay and half a bottle of a Provençal rosé; arranged around the exterior potatoes and onions and smashed garlic, a bouquet of oregano and sage; covered it and set it in the oven at 250 (F) for six or seven hours; ate it for dinner on the first day of fall.

***

Astute readers will notice I’ve been borrowing E.B. White’s use of the asterisks. A string of observations, a vignette — and then, the asterisks.

I suppose it’s a rhetorical crutch.

***

White described the asterisk as “a hot weather sign,” described it as the “cicada of the typewriter.” He used it with abandon in his July 1939 essay “Hot Weather” — used it to break up the heat and the whirr of summer, used it demarcate ideas. The form leads itself to staccato, to a certain wit — a wink and a nod and a laugh. There’s a joy to the flurry of observations, circling and swirling and building to one key point — or, to none at all. By imitating this literary vernacular, I can keep up a slew of writing without having — really — the time to properly compose my thoughts. A summer passed on a breeze, I haven’t been able to find any remarkably discrete moments on which to comment. Nothing has formed the scaffolding for an entire essay. Instead, I’m left to piece together the small moments — the pennies — and hope they add up to something with meaning.

At least I’m getting better at collecting the copper.

***

In this way, writing feels more akin to poetry than prose. “The function of poetry is to concentrate,” — here’s White, again — “but sometimes overconcentration occurs, and there is no more comfort in such a poem than there is in the subway at peak hour.” I sit here at my desk, trying to concentrate — trying to distill my experiences, trying to toe the line between a reduction and a scorching. It’s a fine line to balance. I worry now, as the days shrink, the weather cools, that I’ve run the still too long, that the asterisks are past due to head to ground.

So we transition.

Cast your sins into the water, raise the last sheaf on high. “I have, I have, I have!” the reaper cries; “what have you, what have you, what have?” the crowd demands.

“A neck, a neck, a neck!”

That which you reap is that which you’ve sown.

***

It’s traditional on Rosh Hashanah — the threshold of the Jewish New Year — to place the head of a lamb on the table. In Kabbalist tradition, the head symbolizes wisdom, is the source of light; the tail, where holiness drains away. “Be like the head,” we are reminded, “not the tail.”

Lead, and don’t follow; intention initiates, habit and instinct are dragged behind.

***

But still, one is left to reckon with the head. Dead eyes, blackened teeth, severed bone. Even from the front must we be wary.

A neck, though — a neck is easier to manage.

If one, too, finds oneself in possession of a neck roast — be it deer or lamb or cow or pig — one might be inclined to invoke a successful fall by roasting it as well. Here is how one might do it.

Salt and pepper a venison neck roast — though any neck would work, or any roast you might have on hand — and place it in a large roasting pan.¹ Surround the meat with vegetables — potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic, anything resilient and on hand — and then cover it all with a bottle of white wine. Decorate with an herb bouquet and place in the oven at 250 (F) for six to eight hours, until tender.²

So there we go folks — braised venison neck. I’m hoping this functions as an incantation to draw deer to me when the season opens next Wednesday. I hope it brings joy to your life as well.

Either way, enjoy your weekends; we’ve stepped over the threshold officially. We’re onto deeper flavors when we’re back next week. And, if you need something to keep you entertained while your roast is braising — Jeff Lund and I just launched a monthly discussion (since you know I’m loath to admit to listening to podcasts) called “Light Sear.” We’ll be releasing episodes on the last Thursday of each month — talking about the outdoors, food, parenting, and anything else that comes to mind. You can listen to the first episode — where we talk spearfishing, wind mills, and the differences between hunting moose in the Alaskan Interior and whitetail deer in suburban New England — exclusively on Substack.

Spearfishing and moose hunting

1. If you have the time and initiative, you could brown this prior — but I rarely do, and sometimes cook from frozen (extending the overall cooking time by half).

2. If you’d prefer — and your roast fits — you could also do this in a slow cooker on low.