Venison Deserves Fresh Eyes

A story rooted in expectation rather than experience

When it comes to cooking meat like venison at home, there are a whole host of influences that come into play. The vast majority of which are ill founded or misguided, and largely based on perception rather than experience. Not experience cooking, but more fundamentally experience eating.

Venison is a meat that does not have very good PR. For those of a certain age, venison's heritage was steeped in rich casseroles, heavy stews and roasts with opulent accompaniments. A heavy, rich and overbearing meat. Venison was often treated like any other game of the era — well hung to develop the flavour and to tenderise the texture. That style of eating has largely seen its time and been left in the history of food culture. The knock-on effects for modern day thinking are significant. There is still a reputation surrounding this meat as being rich in wallet and character — a choice reserved for those who indulge in specialities, rather than an everyday choice. While not everyone directly recalls or has personal experience with the heritage of venison, the reputation it gained has been hard to shake off.

Venison needs fresh eyes and a new start.

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As with all meats, there are choices to be made when it comes to provenance. While farmed venison is available from native stock and further afield, the practices are varied and not always in the best interest of the animal, or prioritise the eating experience. The bigger conversation is around wild meat — the need for culling to control a population not in balance with the natural environment. This is not a new conversation, but it is gathering pace, which is having an effect on perceptions.

While the reasoning behind eating wild culled venison is ethical, sustainable and necessary, the perception of it as a meat is not shifting to the same degree. It has captured attention as a wild meat rather than an everyday choice.

This is a wild animal, not restricted in movement or diet by farming — and that freedom is exactly what gives the meat its distinct character.

Cooking it in that light can feel intimidating. It is not part of how many people have been taught to cook, or are used to using. Much of what culinary culture and heritage offers the home cook is largely based on traditional meats from traditional farming methods — palatable cuts prized over those rich in flavour and texture. As regenerative agriculture spreads, ethical and sustainable choices are growing in popularity, but the knowledge is not developing at the same rate, leaving a deficit of experience.

The relationship between the meat and the eating needs reframing, and that reframing is done in the kitchen. The relationship with more conventional, popular or comfortable meats is well established — how to shop, what to look for, the preparations, the processes and ultimately the enjoyment, all steeped in a heritage and craft not suited to wild meat, or indeed farmed meats that prioritise regenerative and sustainable practices such as Pasture For Life.

Here lies the friction.

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Approaching venison without revisiting the craft and the relationship gives an eating experience that does not always leave you wanting more.

The shifts that take venison from passable to a delight are small but significant. They are not rooted in the processes of cooking or the practical, hands-on approach, but in the way the meat is thought about. That is harder to shift than adjusting the temperature of an oven, or using a different ingredient in a recipe. It is a revisiting of a relationship — shifting how the meat is considered within culinary culture, and perhaps more significantly, what characteristics are prized.

For many cultures, the texture experienced when eating is as important as the flavour. Mouthfeel. Bavette or onglet steak compared to fillet or rump, for instance. A distinctive chew or a slight bounce has become a character flaw for much of British food culture, where it is prized across much of the rest of the world. It is not that venison is tough. It is that wild meat has more character, more intrigue and more to offer than what is familiar.

This is where the relationship needs revisiting.

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Aside from the relationship and perceptions, the craft behind wild meat requires a different touch. Nothing elaborate or demanding — small, subtle and gentle shifts. A refocusing. Many of the skills required are already well known, perhaps just forgotten. Skills that do not prioritise convenience. Cooking to temperature and resting, the seasoning, methods such as brining — these all have a bearing. Which cuts are chosen becomes more relevant too, as they have different names to traditionally farmed meat. That can also be a barrier and a point of friction.

When these subtle shifts are made, venison is no different to any other meat. It has no overwhelming character. It is light, fresh and vibrant. Lean and soft, yet persuasive in its character.

The beauty of venison, when you get it right, is the surprise. The surprise that it is not that different to any other meat. The surprise that venison is "actually quite nice," or "not what I thought." That it is familiar and relatable, as meat. When venison is cooked in line with its character, there is comfort in its familiarity, enjoyment in its ease. It is recognisable and approachable.

The solution is straightforward — an open and accepting approach that takes the meat for what it is, rather than what it was, or what the perception says it is.

A lot of venison's story is rooted in expectations rather than experience.

Heritage | Environment | Craft

Curated with Terroir