Venison is the Meat from a Game Animal. In Great Britain, it mainly comes from Deers which are plentiful in Scotland. The cuts available do varie but Steaks are the main ones.

Confession for confession, I am absolutely no expert in the domain of Venison. First I am not a hunter. Second I do eat some very far and between, let's just say every five to seven years once. Third I do remember the traumatic scene when Bambi lost his Mother. Totally Disney= Totally lots of tears at one moment in time... I don't like hunting nor the culling of animals.

However I did hear that in Scotland they had to do what is being called as herd management with the Deers. So we are finding Venison on Supermarket shelves like in posh people houses with an estate who enjoys killing their Birds and Foxes for the pleasure of doing so.

If the Fox does not end up in the pan, its pelt might end up upon a pillar in a large house in Guilford. It becomes a trophee. I never understood Foxes hunting or Badgers culling for that matter. I feed the Foxes in my Garden, like the old lady in the Fox and the Hound, Disney again, I have a Vixen, which is dubbed Roxanne, she comes to be fed but also to be safe when she does her pups under my trees most Springs.

Our Roxanne coming to the Food call.

From my Childhood, eating Venison or Game was scarce as well. Pheasant, Partridge, Quails would very occasionaly show up on the table. I remember Quails being eaten at Christmas once because I complained that Turkey was boring. You know that time when you are in your teens and rebel a bit against institution... For me at that moment it was the 'Why Turkey at Christmas?'. My Dad gave in so we ended up with Quails... which were nice despite my Mother learning how to cook them and my young Brother crying while eating them thinking that Quails were the babies of Turkeys... It was a right 'Boo-Ha!' that Christmas.

Quails. Small but tasty.

Another memory I do have is the one of eating Boar; usually in the form of dry Sausages and in the form of a coarse Paté. In Normandy my Father had a Friend that used to work with him, back, back in the days, when they used to do petrol rigs. It was late seventies. Anyhow everyone lost their jobs because the Brasil didn't pay for the rigs they did receive (Petrobras rigs). My Father recycled into recycling nuclear wastage while his Friend decided to do a business from rearing Boars and releasing them to the forest. Too numerous Boars can do damages, hence it created a more active hunting season... The man made a living out of it. My family sold him one of our Dachshounds called Uvalli, which was long haired, black and tan, but also was a very sweet pet if a messy one. But she could smell a Boar which was reared in the property of the man in the woods. Sausage Dogs are tracker dogs. 

Uvalli is on the left on the pic. The Friend of my Dad liked her so much that he made her to have puppies once or twice. Uvalli has descendants as I write. 

Venison Paté is probably the most that I have ever tasted but did never make myself. Indeed it was rather gifts in tins by others around the Festive season. I do enjoy them upon a slice of Sourdough Bread or one of Pain de Campagne but also with either a caramelised Onion Chutney or a Cranberry Jelly or a Redcurrant one.

Rabbit Paté.