Fred's pemmican: The what of it
Last week I promised to talk about pemmican, a food that Fred prepares for our backpacking excursions. Let's get started.
First, what the heck is it?
First, what the heck is it?
Pemmican is a high-energy food, essentially a 50:50 mix of protein and fat. Originally developed by indigenous North Americans, its storability and compact form led to its use by trappers, soldiers and members of polar expeditions.
Traditionally, large game animals supplied the meat, which was dried and pounded into powder. The other major ingredient was tallow (rendered animal fat; sometimes from bone marrow).
Having contemporary means (a.k.a. the local grocery) available to him, Fred makes his pemmican with beef, which he dries himself, and butter, which he clarifies. He also folds in modest amounts of grains, dried fruits and veggies.
Don't know how all this sounds to you, but trust me, pemmican is perfectly yummy, and extremely satisfying. A little goes a long way — and that's exactly the point.
In other words, in the wilderness, it helps if you're not excessively burdened. You also want food that fortifies and provides a huge calorie count — you need all the energy you can get, for activity and for generating body heat.
Generally, we've eaten our pemmican raw, which is the no-fuss way to consume it (another plus for backpackers). But on our last trip, Fred prepared it as hoosh. That's Antarctica talk for pemmican in boiling water, i.e. turning it into a stew, more or less.
A variation of hoosh is called rubaboo (another great name). This is a stew made from pemmican and fresh odds-and-ends, gathered on site (wild vegetables, roots, fungi, herbs, and so forth).
I confess, I've yet to prepare rubaboo, but am looking forward to experimenting. I expect I'll resort to using berries and maybe a few edible flowers or leaves — there's little else available on the barrens where we tend to trek.
In any case, rubaboo will probably have to wait until the next growing season. From here on, I've got a fall, winter and spring of unadulterated pemmican and/or hoosh to look forward to. And that's quite fine by me.
(Seems I've reached today's word quota. Next time, I'll cover the How-to of Fred's pemmican.)
Traditionally, large game animals supplied the meat, which was dried and pounded into powder. The other major ingredient was tallow (rendered animal fat; sometimes from bone marrow).
Having contemporary means (a.k.a. the local grocery) available to him, Fred makes his pemmican with beef, which he dries himself, and butter, which he clarifies. He also folds in modest amounts of grains, dried fruits and veggies.
Don't know how all this sounds to you, but trust me, pemmican is perfectly yummy, and extremely satisfying. A little goes a long way — and that's exactly the point.
In other words, in the wilderness, it helps if you're not excessively burdened. You also want food that fortifies and provides a huge calorie count — you need all the energy you can get, for activity and for generating body heat.
Generally, we've eaten our pemmican raw, which is the no-fuss way to consume it (another plus for backpackers). But on our last trip, Fred prepared it as hoosh. That's Antarctica talk for pemmican in boiling water, i.e. turning it into a stew, more or less.
A variation of hoosh is called rubaboo (another great name). This is a stew made from pemmican and fresh odds-and-ends, gathered on site (wild vegetables, roots, fungi, herbs, and so forth).
I confess, I've yet to prepare rubaboo, but am looking forward to experimenting. I expect I'll resort to using berries and maybe a few edible flowers or leaves — there's little else available on the barrens where we tend to trek.
In any case, rubaboo will probably have to wait until the next growing season. From here on, I've got a fall, winter and spring of unadulterated pemmican and/or hoosh to look forward to. And that's quite fine by me.
(Seems I've reached today's word quota. Next time, I'll cover the How-to of Fred's pemmican.)
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