Posts from — September 2009

I hunt for the same reasons I cook: I love to eat and at some point realized that no one else was going to give me what I want (or anything at all). Doves are difficult to find at the local supermarket; so I have to go get them myself. While I love biting into dove that have been stuffed with jalapeños, wrapped in bacon, and glazed with honey, it would be a lie to say that I only hunt for food. Waking up before dawn, walking out in a field, and sitting there as the sun comes up in silence as the wind blows calms me like few other things. It also connects me to time spent with my father as a child. Even if I hunt alone, I feel closer to him. This is especially true when I merely wing a bird and have to finish it off by hand. I wish he were there to do the dirty work.

As far as killing goes, I’m not a big fan but strongly believe that if you eat meat, you should know all that it involves. It’s oddly refreshing to get your meat by cleaning an animal and not by simply ripping cellophane from a cutlet or ground beef formed from hundreds of cows.

It’s been a while since I last hunted but was recently given the opportunity, and I haven’t been this excited in a long time. I get fresh, healthy meat, relaxing time outdoors, a male ego boost, and childhood nostalgia all at once. And I get to shoot a gun. All of these things have reopened something inside of me: another connection to my culture.

My relatives are good country folk from Louisiana who mostly eat simple dishes, many of which are prepared from game they have killed themselves. My best Thanksgiving memory was with family in Mansfield where we ate dishes like duck and andouille gumbo, greens, pound cake, and ambrosia. Most of my daily meals as a child involved rice, beans, and cornbread. And when I look back at my most beloved meals it would easily be my grandfather frying up crappie, perch, and catfish along with hushpuppies or hot water cornbread, and French fries. This was all preceded by driving out on my grandfather’s boat on the Sabine River and pulling up trot lines or me standing on the dock calling up to my father every five minutes because I was too timid to take yet another perch off the hook. These memories stir something inside me: It’s telling me that in the end, no matter where I travel or what I do in life, something will be pulling me back to my roots and back to that river.

My mother once told me that I should find a girl with the same background as me because I will be the happiest that way. That sort of predestination goes against every bone in my body. I’ve fought and rebelled from it for years–and in some ways, still am. That stirring in me tells me that I will end up living in a trailer on the banks of the Sabine with a cookhouse (this time it will be James’ instead of Frank’s) and running trot lines and nets (legal and illegal) like my grandfather. Either that, or I will create my own version of that somewhere else, but the themes will be the same.

As I step out onto the field this dove season and listen to the rustling maize and millet, I imagine that the call of my past will strengthen. And for once, I won’t fight it as much because I can’t think of many things better in life than following in my father’s and grandfather’s footsteps.

* Photo by Bob MacInnes

What is a food-obsessed man to do these days? Each food-related book, article, and documentary I encounter inspires and enrages me. I want to take up arms and join the cause. But what is the cause, and what are my weapons? The more I learn, the more I question. For a while, I thought eating local was the solution. But that seemed too simplistic. Now I’m about to read James E. McWilliams’ Just Food: Where Locavores Get It Wrong and How We Can Truly Eat Responsibly and once again be confused by expanding horizons and knowledge.

One thing I know is that I want to help people eat better nutritionally, economically, and have tastier food. But how? Do I go the super grass-roots route and live a life of moral integrity in poverty? Do I “sell out” and go for a more moderate “solution” and help someone more accessible like Whole Foods? Do I work within the system and work for the state or such? Do I try to change things for others or just for myself? Do I go off the map and work on farms and live in isolation for a while? All of these questions are bouncing around in my head, and usually the more I think about something, the more I understand it, but this problem–at least at this stage–is only made more complex.

And like all change, there will be some sacrifices that I’m still coming to terms with. Starting a new career will most likely mean a decrease in pay. Mabye no benefits or insurance. But I like suits and eating at restaurants, which, by the way is one of my favorite things in life. (If you somehow know of a way for me to simply eat at restaurants and get paid, that would be my life’s calling.) But a new direction I can feel good about would have value–maybe more than the possible lost wages.

But since I don’t know what I want to do yet, I am reluctant to make the jump. Hopefully, there is a tipping point where I start figuring things out more and being confused less, or at least just act in some way.

Another problem has been that I haven’t been able to find a focus for Jameseats. Rants? Reviews? Industry discussion? Championing healthy and responsible eating? The quest for a singular focus has led me to have no content and posting anxiety. So I’m taking you along with me in all my moods and ideas. It’ll be interesting for me and I can only hope that it will not bore you to death.