The wild turkey was delicious, and all 11 diners at the party loved it, including the two boys who are 12. Of course it was a first for most of the group, and one woman said it was the best turkey she had ever tasted.
We agree. Since I started hunting and ate my first wild turkey, I have known that there is no comparison between a wild bird and a domestically raised bird. The wild breast meat is moist not dry, although the legs that run away from predators are tough and chewy. I always describe the taste as more like tender roast beef, but that doesn’t quite do it. The flavor has to be different when one bird is processing flowers, leaves, bugs like grasshoppers, and the pen-raised animal is eating cracked corn.
The hardest part was foregoing for years the ease of getting a wild bird with a shotgun and enjoying the major celebratory meal. Instead I have been denying myself and family of this delicacy in my quest to win the prize with a bow and arrow. But you are talking to the “food policeman” here (see my post of April 4th), so it wasn’t hard to defer outstanding tastes for a larger goal, a more challenging achievement.
If the hunt was perfect, the meal was also a perfect different experience involving loving friends, family (including teenagers with their buds), and flowers, which are out in glorious bloom. Our garden is spectacular, the weather was in the high 60s, and we ate outdoors with candles. You should have been there. I wish you many of those joyous, uplifting outdoor meals in your lifetime, whether with hot dogs, steaks, or BBQ chicken.