Mmm, the first cup of coffee

December 1, 2012 – Saturday

32 degrees

Pentoga Road

What is it about the first sip of coffee in the morning? The aroma is the first premonition of good things happening in the kitchen. Our bedroom is the length of the house and a story away, yet the unmistakable bouquet of freshly brewed coffee drifts up the stairs and finds its way to our bedroom.

Then there’s the sound of the entire process; the gurgle of the coffee maker, the dripping and hissing as the machine does its thing.

And finally, the coup de gras, the merciful onslaught of all the senses when one actually pours a cup, the steam rising and blending with the morning sunlight, the aroma, the warmth of the cup in one’s hands, and finally, the first sip. I do love my first cup of morning coffee.

I played butcher all day Friday. Who in the heck did I think I was that I might be completely finished with the cutting and wrapping of a large deer before noon? In my younger days, possibly. Yesterday? It was evening before the chore was completed and the kitchen scrubbed and disinfected. 

The back left quarter - ready for processing

I first ran into difficulties while attempting to cut the loins from the inside cavity. Though I’d put a two-foot 1x2 board inside to hold the rib cage apart after initially gutting the animal, there wasn’t much room for me to work and when I did, the loins were frozen and stiff. I eventually freed both and tossed them in the “good meat” pan.

Quartering the frozen carcass was like wrestling with a giant 2x4. I guess I’ve never quartered a frozen animal. In the arctic, the process was always a race with the sub-zero temperatures and all the butchering was done while the animal was still warm.

And finally, there was the prying of the back strap, along with the loins, the best part of the deer, away from the backbone. I cut two long pieces, both three-feet in length.

I carried everything inside and began work. First, six roasts, four sirloin and two rump, were carved from the back quarters. Other large pieces such as the blade and chuck were kept whole for future jerky or stew meat. The rest was cut into long and narrow pieces to feed into the grinder.

A sirloin and rump roast

I’m not sure how my arm lasted in the old days when I happily ground hundreds of pounds of moose meat, or once, two caribou in one day. The venison ground yesterday was a real test to my arms’ endurance.

After the first grinding, I paused long enough to go into town and purchase four pounds of ground pork. It added fat to the burger and will give it some texture.

While in town, I stopped to visit with Yooper Brother Mark. He seemed to be up to his eyeteeth in paper work and was preparing to meet some other congregants of his church later to set up a manger scene. We talked for fifteen minutes or so before I bade him goodbye.

Back home, I unwrapped the ground pork, rolled up my shirtsleeves, and plunged both arms, elbow deep, into the ground meat, mixing pork with venison. It was still cold and minutes later, I withdrew two almost-numb, limbs.

Two of these large pans were filled, then all the burger was dumped back into the larger pan for mixing and grinding again.

The second grinding began. Using a disk with smaller holes to further refine the meat, I had to stop periodically to unclog the grinder. With every two pounds of meat processed, I stopped to double wrap it in white freezer paper. Wrapping was a good excuse to give my arm a rest. The package was finished after it was labeled and dated. 

The project was concluded by completely scrubbing and disinfecting the pans, grinder, and utensils, then the entire kitchen. It was a tired Tommy P who plopped down in his recliner last night and awaited Sargie’s arrival home from work.

And, after closing, she did arrive! We enjoyed hot, buttered, popcorn and shared the activities of the day. We later chomped and crunched our way through a television program and the news. I know I feel asleep on the couch and barely remember Sargie gently awakening me, saying it was time to go to bed.

I didn’t wake up once during the night and it was approaching 7:30 before I stirred this morning. Clearing an acre of popple trees is one thing, but working in the kitchen grinding meat… now that’s another. I’ll opt for the outside work.

I found the lost student from yesterday in the electronic grade book. After corresponding with my educational tech friend, Susie, at UAS, I discovered that I have the font on my computer set so big that there wasn't room for anyone to be listed on the screen whose last name began with "z". So, to enter her grade, I had to reduce the font size and there she was! Having the large letters helps me to navigate around the computer fairly painlessly, but with certain programs, it doesn't always work. Hmm, another bridge to cross in the future.

I’m not sure what lies in store for today. Sargie’s off this weekend and no doubt, she’ll finish the decorating our home. The dining room is filled with boxes of holiday décor and I’m looking forward to seeing the house when she’s finished.

I might start construction of the ermine boxes today. Failing that, I very well may sit in my recliner and talk with Sargie as she works her holiday magic, enjoy the music of Christmas playing from the stereo, and sip coffee. Like I keep saying, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…