It’s very hard to cook well, but if done well, is very delicious, especially in stews
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I love rabbits. They’re also delicious. I’ve never cooked one, but I’ve ordered it on several occasions. I enjoyed it each time, but also felt like I paid too much for the amount of rabbit I was served. But this is your wife we’re talking about here, so I’d suggest you work on your marksmanship and start harvesting rabbits.
My parents both worked at Frenchie’s in Milwaukee, WI during the late 60’s, early 70’s. They had a LOT of options for people who may not like red meat or chicken.
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I have actually heard of this place being from Waukesha.
And hunting rabbits is really hard without dogs.
Frenchie’s was a legendary place, sadly now extinct. They even had lion, tiger, bear and just about anything you can imagine on the menu at times. Dad was the Maitre’ D of the bar area and my mom was a waitress. My mom waited on all kinds of politicians and celebrities like Joe Namath. I think she had a bit of a crush on him.
As far as I understand the family history, dad got the job through the kind of application process that’s no longer common in high-end restaurants. This is a guy who dropped out of Jr. High, served in the Army until '67, became a bouncer at The Stone Toad (another extinct Milwaukee legend) and “driver” for the Balistreri crew, and also was acquitted on some serious assault charges.
Somehow, with no clear explanation ever given to me, he ends up as a Maitre D at the best restaurant in Wisconsin.
I learned about all of the shady stuff years after he died, btw. To me he was Captain America, straight as an arrow. He worked construction, built the house I grew up in and raised us conservative Catholic. When he was alive I just knew he was a bouncer at The Stone Toad back in the sixties, which I thought was cool about my old man.
I’m heading to WI this fall to take my kid fly fishing in the Chequamegon forest on the White River. Dad went up there twice a year for most of his life, along with a few other family members. This will be my kid’s first trip, which has always been a men’s trip without children present.
If I didn’t already live in Maine, I’d be giving Wisconsin strong consideration!
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Could you grill a piece of meat on the side and have that with whatever everyone else is eating? “Now that nobody else is eating meat, I can use the money that would have gone to everyone else’s meat on Kobe steak”
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This area is awesome. Never fly fished before but is something I have been wanting to try (I now live near the Indian River Lagoon in Florida - still good fishing but way different species).
I used to camp and fish the Chippewa Falls Flowage a lot.
It really is. We used to camp on Perch Lake near Drummond, but as my elders have aged we’re now renting a cabin and a pontoon boat on nearby Namekegon Lake. You still need to bush-whack your way into the good spots of the White River. That’s the only place I’ve seen a black bear in the wild, and it is where I’ve caught my largest trout on a fly.
It’s also the only place I’ve fallen asleep to the sound of wolves howling. The closest I’ve experienced in Maine is falling asleep to the sound of a sled dog pack up the road from our campground.
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I witnessed a black bear twice while hunting near Florence county WI. Crazy to see in person and it was probably only 75 yards from me one occasion.
We we out about 0500 one hunting morning getting ready for the hike in by the truck, pitch black out and then the woods went silent and we heard wolf howls (not echoes indicating they were close). Hair stood up on my neck and all 4 of us quickly finished putting rounds in our weapons. The lack of not being able to see more than 20 feet in front of you without a flashlight is really unnerving.
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To circle the topic back to the chuckle-worthy, let me tell you about my wild moose encounters after over a decade of living in Maine. I’ve hiked roughly 100 miles of mostly back-country trails, during which time I’ve seen a LOT of moose poop. I’m hoping my new fishing boat will give me more moose spotting opportunities, but that hasn’t panned out just yet.
I’ve seen one wild moose since moving here. It was trotting down my street in the middle of town at 6:30 am. I ran out to see it in my boxers after my girlfriend screamed “twojarslave get out here there’s a MOOSE!!”
And there it was, trotting down the street at a very impressive pace.
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That’s really only one step away from sushi.
The trout (salmo-trutta) eat the bugs, then we eat them!
There ya go!
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Then you eventually die and the bugs eat you… This is cannibalism
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My whole white trash family used to load up in the pickup and hunt rabbits all summer. My mom and a little .22 rifle with a scope. Dad had a .38 pistol. My sister and I both had little lever action .22 rifles. The farmers liked having them thinned out.
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I like pork but I think of this little guy when I eat it 
(If you were not a child/had children post '95 you probably don’t know this one. @anna_5588 - was this a thing in your childhood?)
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To really appreciate your pork you have to narrate the meal from the pigs perspective using a scared little pig voiceover babe style as you eat, then when you’ve finished, change voice and go with “that’ll do pig, that’ll do”. Satisfaction guaranteed.
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I once joined a facebook group where everyone pretended to be working at Chernobyl. It was good for the lolz.
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This shit drives me crazy. In art class, we were assigned to write an essay any modern art piece of choice. I read ABOUT Jackson Pollock, saw the name of one of his paintings listed but never elaborated on, wrote a bunch of nonsense about it although I didn’t even know what it looked like, and got a distinction.
Same fucking thing happened in literature class when we were told to critique the differences between Kenneth Branagh’s movie version of Hamlet and Mel Gibson’s. I didn’t watch the former until much later because Mel had already mentally scarred me for life but I based what I wrote on what I thought it would be like after having watched his take on Frankenstein and got an A.
When I finally watched the Kenneth Branagh version, it wasn’t anything like what I remember describing it as.
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I don’t recall any art classes post-middle school, but lit teachers/professors were rage-inducing to me. How do they think they have the right to interpret writers’ work to me, when I am the one listening to the author as I read the book? It’s such presumption, in my opinion, to tell me that this represents that. I’m reading the book. STFU and let me read it and form my own relationship to the work.
Even my writing about it in this vein sounds pretentious. “Form my own relationship to the work.” It’s a story! I agree we should all be exposed to old and new stories and stories generally believed to be great as a component of a sound education, but again, it’s reading. Shut up and let me do it. It’s no wonder so many people come through school thinking books are a drag.
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