The allegedly true story of Beaver Creek Jerky.....

Some of what you are about to read is true. Some of it is fiction. It is up to you, the reader to determine which is which. Please note, that some names and facts have been changed to preserve not only the privacy, but in at least one case, the sanity of those involved.

Some generations back in my family, I have an ancestor that, for lack of a better name, I'm going to call 'Uncle Joe.' Now, to be sure, there are a fair number of greats that would be attached to that, but for brevity's sake, I'm not using them.

My Uncle Joe was a trapper, and he plied his trade up and down the waterways of colonial America. As with most men that followed this trade, he lead a semi-nomadic way of life.

Sure, he had his trap lines, and a couple of regular campsites to go along with them, but he also had a cabin hidden amongst the trees. It was here that he had his smokehouse, and here that he would prepare his rations for long soujourns 'runnin' the line.'

Now, I've 'old-timed' this up a bit, so if you feel like substituting an 'oven' for 'a smokehouse' or 'beef' for 'venison,' by all means, feel free.

Using his handy Bowie knife, Uncle Joe would soon reduce his venison to something very similar to this:




Then, utilizing a concoction of 'secret ingredients' he would set the meat to soak for 48-60 hours, or so legend has it. After sufficent time had passed, he would remove the meat and place it horizontally on trays to be loaded into the smokehouse:



After liberally sprinkling them with a 'secret blend of herbs and spices:



into the smokehouse they would go.

What would emerge a day or so later was this:




Little pieces of Heaven, right here on Earth.

Now, in my mind, Uncle Joe's cabin is always located close to his best trap line. On a creek somewhere, a creek that may very well have been called 'Beaver Creek.'

I mean, it stand to reason, doesn't it?

Well, in any event, this jerky is the best shit in the world, I kid you not. The recipe for 'Beaver Creek Jerky' has been passed from male line decendant to male line decendant through the generations, and while I wish I could share it with you, I'm sorry to say I can't.

I'll tell you what I'll do instead:

We have an 'air sucker' (aka foodsaver vacuum sealer) and for any of you that ask (youre already getting some wm), I'll put a couple pieces in the mail for you, provided that:

A. I have your address, or

B. You email it to me at kvenya at gmail dot com.

Oh, and if you want some, you really have to ask. I'm not just gonna send it out willy nilly.

Buenos con queso,

T.

What I want, Part 17: A Family Truckster