How to cook a 'coonYears ago at a Missouri Mycological Society's annual potluck, I sampled a severely over-roasted Mr. and Mrs. Raccoon. I considered it a check off moment on my life list of unique edibles. Interesting to have tried once and if I never had another opportunity, then so be it.
I never really gave it another thought until Hammond sought a butcher for the trash mining varmint in his life. While Hammond never quite found the butcher of his dreams, my many inquiries on his behalf to real hunters who reacted to my query as a bit queer. If you can kill the critter, then they believe it is reasonable you know how to field dress and butcher your kill.
The innocent days of speculatively chatting on finding raccoon butchers was the loins that sprung the whole foodie raccoon dining urban myth. Little Miss Enthusiastic never misses a beat in trying something new leaped at Amata's linked article of a raccoon dinner that very same day in Wisconsin. Who never expected her gift to Hammond of raccoon meat would morph in Homaru Cantu's fantasy factory into a roadkill course emulated today on his menu as a duck roadkill course. A gift from one friend to another was a lead anecdote in a Moto profile in Time magazine, though the story took on mythical qualities of an avid hunter who challenged the chef.
Only last weekend, I was at the Chicago Botanical Garden representing the Illinois Mycological Association aka Mushroom Club. A visitor who had studied mycology in college was asked, "How do you use your mycological education in your work today?" She replied, "I consult to a Chef." "Really, which Chef?" "Homaru Cantu." "I know Homaru." "How?" "I am the raccoon lady!" "Oh my God, I was talking about you last night!" A polite query on her professional use of mycology was a touchstone to our knowing quite a few people in common between us.
Last January's Chicago Tribune article on foodies dining on raccoon highlighted to my mycology friends my other life they knew vaguely about. At our annual mushroom dinner, a friend brought me out to the parking lot and offered a freshly killed raccoon as a gift. This was so fresh, no rigor mortis had set in. Having long learned there are more opportunities to saying yes than no, I took it. I was advised to trim off the fat and scent glands around the armpits and anus. I knew instantly this was destined for this year's picnic. I froze it as-is with plans to deal with the fat and glands later.
A few nights ago, I realized I needed to settle how to cook this raccoon. My original thought had been to butterfly it and grill it. I had commented this to SteveZ who correctly pointed out successful preparations seemed to dictate a braise. My searches indicated people tended to drown their raccoon in strong flavors: either braised in barbeque sauce or baked under layers of stuffing and sweet potatoes. While as a composition it may taste quite vivid, it does hide the raccoon's flavor profile. I have observed the same treatment of wild mushrooms whose taste is buried in garlic, wine, cream or soy sauce, though can you really identify the taste of that mushroom? One of my very first interactions with Hammond and Rene G when they attended a mushroom meeting. It was our annual identification meeting, which I was on the periphery searing wild mushrooms in a little butter and finishing with a touch of salt. We sampled maybe five or more mushrooms that night with each having a unique flavor profile. We purchased a few of Marie's cheese pizzas, which I learned about from this community, to make our own variant of mushroom pizza.
For today's picnic, I decided to cook the raccoon like a pot roast via pressure cooking. I began by spending perhaps ten minutes trimming fat and a silverskin enveloping the raccoon. This silverskin had the same slippery loose quality like one experiences grasping a cat's skin lifting away though the cat is firmly planted and not moving. I then proceeding to remove the legs in whole sections and disposed of the tail. I seared the legs in a few tablespoons of vegetable oil in my canning pressure cooker, then later the body. Once the body was seared on one side and beginning to sear on the other, I added at least a pound of thinly sliced onions to cook until softened. I then returned the legs to the pot with a quart of veal stock, two cups of water, some salt and freshly ground quatra epices.* I closed the lid of the pressure cooker, brought it to a boil until I could see steam shooting out consistently for a few minutes. I then set a ten-pound weight on the pressure cooker and waited for it to come to pressure. I cooked the raccoon for an hour at ten-pounds pressure. Once depressurized, the meat was fall off the bone tender for very easy deboning. The cooking liquid was reduced by a third, tested it for seasoning and poured it over the raccoon meat.
The final result was a raccoon course that could easily be served as a pot roast without any telltale gamey flavor. If this were being freshly served, instead of having to sit keeping warm for a few hours. I think this preparation could easily be a very respectable candidate to treat as beef noodles over mashed potatoes.
If it were not for the opportunities provided by my mushroom friends and those from this community, I certainly could not have ever envisioned an opportunity to cook a raccoon nor an audience to feed it to.
Thank you for the gift that keeps on giving.
Regards,
Cathy2
*Quatra Epices
2 tablespoons (1/8 cup) white peppercorns - I used black
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon (about 12) whole cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
A few pieces of allspice