This is patently untrue, as she has caught fish on most of the trips we have taken when she has actually deigned to fish.  She is correct only in that when she comes with me as a spectator, does not buy a license, and does not hold a rod for the entire trip, she does not catch any fish.  I love fishing as much as anyone, but I imagine if I were forced to watch someone else catch fish while I remained idle, it would be about as much fun for me as a root canal.

Her usual tactic to avoid fishing is to impose a series of contradictory conditions during the planning phase:

“I don’t want to get up too early; I can’t stay out all night.”

“I can’t stay out in the heat all day; I don’t want to get out in bad weather.”

“It’s not worth dragging all that stuff out for a few hours; I don’t want to board the dog and cat.”

You get the idea.  The only day for fishing, apparently, is one between 70 and 74 degrees, with low to moderate humidity, and with willing fish biting during the late morning to early afternoon hours.  How many such days have you ever had on the water?  Yeah, me neither.  We went out in the midday heat to catch the one good redfish pictured in the last article just before dark, and it was pretty chilly by then.  Supper that night after filleting and a shower was at about 22:00. (10:00 P.M. for you twelve-hour types.)

What am I to do?  I’m already to the point that I dread asking her to go.  I know if the trip does not come off perfectly, it will be an “I told you so” moment, but if I never take her with me, her pronouncement about not catching anything is a self-fulfilling prophecy.  She won’t fish because she never catches anything, and she never catches anything because she won’t fish.  The chicken and the egg.

- by the Sporting Wife

Hello from the Sporting Wife! The Armchair Outfitter has requested (over and over) that I do a guest spot on the website, and I have finally relented. One of my primary duties in our home is the preparation and presentation of meals. While the majority of our household cuisine runs toward the mundane, occasionally my husband brings home and insists that I cook something he has procured for us with either a gun or a fishing rod. Being raised in a household with a father who didn’t hunt and rarely fished, I have acquired my expertise in wild game cuisine over the years of our marriage.

Having said all that, there is pretty much one rule I follow. I do not handle anything that does not already look like meat. By which I mean I do not gut, skin, or scale animals. While I do participate in the consumption of almost all the game my hubby presents, I am a girl. I am admittedly somewhat grossed out by the actual mechanics of reducing living creatures to table fare.

That serves as a lead-in to the upcoming recipe: Pheasant Enchiladas. I’d have to say this is more of a proof of concept than a real recipe. Do not hesitate where possible to use wild game in tandem with convenience products. It may take a little longer, but it will be well worth it, and the end result is usually healthier for you. To accomplish today’s dish, I thawed out three skinned and dressed pheasants , rubbed them with oil, sprinkled them with salt, and roasted them at 275 degrees until done. (I’m not sure how long it took, just check it much like you would a chicken. When the juice runs clear, it’s done). Cover the dish to keep in the steam. This keeps the bird moist. Allow the pheasants to cool, and then pull the meat from the bone. Buy whatever enchilada kit you prefer. As you can see from the photo, I chose the Old El Paso variety. Follow the directions on the back of the package beginning after the point where the instructions direct you to brown whatever meat you are using and drain the fat. Finish and serve with yummy embellishments like sour cream, cheese, salsa, jalapeños, hot sauce, and cilantro. You can also do this with ground venison, or practically any other game meat. My only admonition is to remember that most wild game has no additives and less fat. Be mindful of this, and take what precautions you can to keep the meat moist.

I hope this lesson has been helpful. Please e-mail with questions, and I will answer them to the best of my ability. In my real life I am a librarian, so if I don’t know, I know how to find out. Until then, Sporty Cooking!

The Sporting Wife and I standing in a trout stream in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

“That’s quite a filly . . . She’s reasonable. A reasonable redheaded woman is hard to come by.”

- Robert Ruark, The Old Man and the Boy