When Linzay said Taz dropped off dinner, I didnt expect it to be in big black plastic bag sitting in the middle of the floor. Nor did I expect it to be a whole leg of dear with the fur still attached, adorned in blood and grass. Taz is a local legend who runs Southern Lakes Hunting Guides. Looking into that bag, I felt like Taz put a hit on bambi and left it at my workplace as a “Message” I couldn’t ignore. A very delicious message.
I wont lie, being bit of a city slicker I was a little intimidated by the bloody stump sitting in our fridge. In a funny, way that plastic bag represented a new philosophy Ive been working on lately, one that makes no excuses for not knowing something. So I did what any clueless person does, I looked it up on the internet.
Luckily, I had a full entourage to help me. Bea and Stefano, our Italian friends from Australia, where in town. Together we planned a “taste of New Zealand” feast, complete with Hokey Pokey ice cream, Green lip Muscles and Kumera along with the leg.
Together we studied, discussed, sliced and laughed, as we stumbled our way along. The whole process took up the better part of the morning, and eventually cooking consumed most of the day, which is the naturally progression of things if you are cooking with Italians. What we thought was one meal progressed into steaks, a stew and two roasts.
The whole experience left me feeling very similar to when I was working on the Avocado farm in Australia. For too long, I have been removed from my food, as it arrives to me neatly butchered, cleaned and sterilized. Boxes, plastic and stickers. I find it too easy to forget those who process everything, the process that natural food takes. More than that, I cant believe the satisfaction of circumnavigating the box’s and box stores, and getting it straight from the guy that shot it. A guy named Taz.