Oh, deer, it was delicious

The first time I had venison was at a suitably trendy restaurant in San Francisco. I was young enough and urban enough that I was rather proud of myself for knowing that venison actually meant I was dining on deer. I remember sort of liking the steak but not enough to seek it out again. I recall confidently throwing around the adjective "gamey" despite the fact I didn't have a whole lot of experience to back it up.

Fast-forward 20 years and many meals later and a life that looks much more rural. A life that includes farm boots and John Deere equipment and a septic system. And a social circle that is now more populated with hunters than with software engineers.

Recently we were invited over to some friends' house for dinner. The wife is an awesome cook so we pretty much have to be out of town to turn down an invite to their table. Plus we really like the family so that's a bonus.

The husband is a rather accomplished hunter. Enough that the family has a large freezer dedicated to his accomplishments. Last season, he came home with quite a story and the remains of a 3-year-old 250lb buck whose head will soon be available for viewing. Their freezer quickly overfloweth.

As I was oohing and aahing and totally marinating in the wonderful steakiness of the meal the wife prepared for us, she revealed that we were eating him - That Buck, the big young one with the three points. And not only were we eating him, we were eating the best part of him, the tenderloin.

I sat with this information for several chews. What an interesting conflict of emotions. I was a bit stunned that knew so much about the animal I was eating, save for his name (for giggles, we'll call him Colin -- Portlandia fans will understand why). I knew how old Colin was, what he looked like, where he lived, and how he died.

On the one hand, this gave me confidence about the purity and the "no additives or preservatives" quality of the meat, which usually doesn't matter much to me but I think I could actually taste the difference. On the other hand, it felt a little weird to be eating an acquaintance. I am much more used to the easy carnivorous denial that anonymity brings.

Despite our relationship, though, there was no denying how delicious Colin was. Gamey did not enter the conversation. And it was also not lost on me what an honor it was to be served the very best part of him.

I am not sure if I will ever order venison again in a restaurant. I can't imagine it would come anywhere close to as delicious as Colin was, prepared by a woman who has years of experience. Plus I'm not sure I could stand myself if I started interviewing the waitstaff to make sure that whatever deer part I was ordering measured up to the gold standard set by Colin's tenderloin.

Boy howdy, that's not a sentence I would have dreamed of writing 9 years ago. The assimilation continues.