On Samsara + Venison Tenderloin

Some thoughts about enduring, relishing.

Last year, reflecting on our annual New England mountain summit trip with Grandfather and Brothers CWD¹, I wrote about the idea that samsara is nirvana. I won’t rehash that essay², but I’ll repeat the sentiment: often, the work and effort it takes to reach your goals ends up being a reward in itself. By embracing this idea — embracing the suck, as you might say — you make the ultimate end even sweeter, more satisfying³.

I was thinking about this idea a lot earlier this week. For those who read the footnotes⁴ and those who read

WARKITCHEN

⁵, you know that I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time the last few months hanging off of trees, looking for deer. Before that, I spend much of the spring and all of the summer shooting arrows, getting comfortable hitting targets with accuracy. Really, for last year or so, I’ve been maniacally focused on killing a deer.

I did that earlier this week, loosing an arrow into a doe from 25 yards; thankfully, importantly, making a clean shot⁶, killing her quickly. After the weeks of sitting cold, sitting tired, sitting wet, sitting in the dark, sitting in a tree, behind cover, standing, scouting, watching, waiting, samsara-ing — I was beyond grateful, beyond stoked, to finally get a deer⁷.

I’ll likely write more about this experience, but this week, this dispatch, isn’t the time to do it. I’ll simply say that for someone who preaches eating with eyes wide open, getting closer to your food, eating locally — this was about the pinnacle of radical eating. I shot the deer less than a mile from where I’m typing this essay. I ate the tenderloin for the first time hours after the deer died. I was involved in every part of the process, right through yesterday morning when I finished putting the last ounces of sausage in its casing⁸.

So this week, in honor of the animal that will feed the Family CWD⁹ for the next few months, we’re making venison tenderloin. You could easily repeat this recipe with beef, or bison — but this way, from field to table in a matter of hours, feels like the right move.

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Liberally season your tenderloin¹⁰ with salt¹¹ and a dash of pepper. Heat a knob of butter in a heavy-bottomed skillet. When the pan is nearly smoking hot, sear the meat hard and fast, a few minutes each side, until browned on the outside and medium-rare or cooler on the inside.

Eat this one directly off the cutting board with your hands, if you so choose.

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There you go, folks. Venison tenderloin.

I don’t have much else this week. Lots going on at the CWD Ranch, with life moving faster and slower than ever. We’ll be back next week with our annual CWD gift guide, and then who knows where the rest of the year will take us. We can only accept it with grace, looking for nirvana in whatever is thrown at us.

Get outside this weekend. Feel the cold on your skin, the briskness in the air. Take it all in stride, with eyes wide open.

1. Sadly, postponed this year. Next year, Katadhin.

2. Or, rather, seed of an essay — at that point on the CWD arc, we hadn’t yet gotten to full on essay writing, just flirting with ideas bigger than food.

3. It also tends to make the downs more

4. Based on my non-scientific conjecture, about 12 of you.

5. If you haven’t read it, my essay on becoming a hunter was featured in the September issue of said magazine.

6. Even if it wasn’t the exact clean shot I had envisioned.

7. And, apparently, so was Kiddo CWD, who after hearing me talk about deer for ages, told me she was “so proud of me.”

The little things.

8. I now, literally, know how the sausage is made.

9. And this was truly a team effort, from Mrs. CWD giving me the okay to hunt and holding down the fort, to Kiddo for helping me look for deer while driving, and for the Warthog for relishing his first bites of venison.

10. This, if not abundantly evident, is venison — but feel free to use whatever you have on hand.

11. If you can let it sit in the fridge overnight salted — dry brining it — terrific, but it will taste good no matter what.