The Salmon Smokers Waltz
July 27th 2008 17:54
Category: Hunting n Fishing
This is the time of year when many honest to god Alaskans, myself included, stalk, catch and store fish for the winter. Much of it will be filleted, vacuum packed and stored in freezers for later use. But, then we have the secretive smokers and canners, a class of closed lip individuals unique to remote areas of urban Alaska.
We pound the surf in our boats or stalk the shorelines for signs of our prey, wild salmon in it's many manifestations; when discovered, the fury of hell is unleashed on the hapless beasts. We net, troll, jig, mooch, trap or snag our prey and pounce upon them in glee once our epic inter-species battles have been won by our fishing warriors. When caught, we fillet, skin and clean the fish and return their carcases to the sea and then store their meaty remains on ice for future processing.
Having successfully hunted many, many of the fish down and having defeated them in single combat; their processed flesh is brined in 15% salt and spices over night, then washed, air dried, glazed in a secrete concoction of spiced brown sugar and ensconced in one of several smokers to marinate in a perfectly heated and smoke filled environment for a few hours. Once completed, the fish is cooled, hands are slapped out of the way and the savory treasure is vacuum packed. Occasionally, the smoked fish is canned for overseas delivery or long term storage.
Then the clean up commences; clothes and foot gear is washed or thrown away, fishing paraphernalia is stored, vehicles are cleaned and reodorized, and then the serious work commences. The dehydrator racks, smokers and racks are cleaned for what seems like days on end.
Finally, the fish is shared with friends and family who hopefully will marvel at the flavor, the texture and speed with which the treats were prepared. After giving away over 30 pounds of the fish and hoarding a stash for personal use, collapse is imminent. Exhaustion finally kicks in and has its way, but the effort always proves to be a satisfying thing.
Raven
We pound the surf in our boats or stalk the shorelines for signs of our prey, wild salmon in it's many manifestations; when discovered, the fury of hell is unleashed on the hapless beasts. We net, troll, jig, mooch, trap or snag our prey and pounce upon them in glee once our epic inter-species battles have been won by our fishing warriors. When caught, we fillet, skin and clean the fish and return their carcases to the sea and then store their meaty remains on ice for future processing.
Having successfully hunted many, many of the fish down and having defeated them in single combat; their processed flesh is brined in 15% salt and spices over night, then washed, air dried, glazed in a secrete concoction of spiced brown sugar and ensconced in one of several smokers to marinate in a perfectly heated and smoke filled environment for a few hours. Once completed, the fish is cooled, hands are slapped out of the way and the savory treasure is vacuum packed. Occasionally, the smoked fish is canned for overseas delivery or long term storage.
Then the clean up commences; clothes and foot gear is washed or thrown away, fishing paraphernalia is stored, vehicles are cleaned and reodorized, and then the serious work commences. The dehydrator racks, smokers and racks are cleaned for what seems like days on end.
Finally, the fish is shared with friends and family who hopefully will marvel at the flavor, the texture and speed with which the treats were prepared. After giving away over 30 pounds of the fish and hoarding a stash for personal use, collapse is imminent. Exhaustion finally kicks in and has its way, but the effort always proves to be a satisfying thing.
Raven
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