The folder’s got a grease stain now that wasn’t there before, right over the corner of Recipe No. 5, like Amos wiped his fingers on it after checking a trap line. The heading is short and honest, same as the man: “COON. dont eat the fat if you can help it.” Under that, in the cramped hand he saved for things he only meant to say once, he wrote, “a coon will eat anything that dont eat him first and that is why he tastes like he does.”
Nobody in the bottoms talked about raccoon the way they talked about venison. Coon was what you ate when the deer weren’t moving and the rabbits had been shot out and you still had six kids to feed. It’s greasy, it’s strong, and it’s more work to clean right than a lot of men would bother with. But Amos bothered with everything that would put meat on the table, and over the years he’d figured out how to make a coon taste like more than a mistake. His notes on it are the closest thing to pride I ever found in that folder.
Recipe No. 5: Raccoon Roast
Ingredients
- 1 raccoon, 10-15 pounds, skinned and cleaned
- 1/2 cup salt for the soak
- 5-6 cups cold water for the soak
- 1 large onion, chopped
- 3 carrots, chopped
- 3 cloves garlic, smashed
- 2 bay leaves
- 1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
- 1 tablespoon brown sugar
- 1 teaspoon black pepper
- 4-5 slices bacon or a good spoonful of lard
- 2 cups chicken broth or water
- 3-4 medium potatoes, cut in chunks
Procedure
Step 1 — Clean it right, and get the glands out. This is where coon goes wrong for most people. Under each front leg and each hind leg there’s a small gland, about the size of a bean, tucked in the fat. If you leave those in, the meat tastes like a barn floor no matter what else you do. Cut them out clean and throw them away. Then trim the fat. Not some of it. All of it you can get at. Raccoon fat is where the wild, musky flavor lives, and it doesn’t cook out.
Amos put it in the margin next to a drawing that I think is supposed to be a leg: “these little knots is the ruination of coon. cut em out or throw the whole thing to the hogs. i seen a man eat one and he would not set at the table for a week.”
Step 2 — Soak it. Once it’s trimmed, cut the coon into quarters and put them in a big bowl of cold water with a half cup of salt. Soak it overnight, and if you can, change the water once and soak it longer. A day and a night is not too much for an old boar. This pulls out blood and a lot of the wildness, and it’s the difference between meat people ask about and meat people push around a plate.
Step 3 — Parboil it. Drain the coon and put it in a pot with fresh water to cover, half the onion, the carrots, garlic, bay leaves, and the vinegar. Bring it to a boil, then drop the heat and simmer it for an hour, skimming the gray foam off the top. The vinegar here does two jobs at once — it softens the meat and it knocks the last of the gamey taste down. After an hour, pull the pieces out and let them drain. You can use the cooking water for the roast if you strain it, or toss it and use broth.
Step 4 — Brown it and braise it. Rub the pieces with the brown sugar and black pepper. In a heavy Dutch oven, lay the bacon across the bottom and brown the coon pieces on all sides in the rendered fat. Once it’s browned, add the broth or water, the rest of the onion, and cover the pot. Into a 325°F oven it goes for two and a half to three hours, until the meat wants to fall off the bone. Add the potatoes in the last hour so they soak up the juice without turning to mush.
Step 5 — Rest it and pull it. Pull the coon out and let it rest ten minutes, then pull the meat off the bone like you would a pork shoulder. Spoon some of the braising liquid over it. Serve it with those potatoes and whatever greens you’ve got. If you did the glands right and the soak right, you’ll be surprised how close it comes to dark, slow-cooked pork.
What It Actually Tastes Like
Done right, raccoon tastes like a cross between dark turkey and pork shoulder, with a little more sweetness to it than you’d expect. Done wrong, it tastes like the inside of a woodchuck’s den. The whole business comes down to three things: the glands, the fat, and the soak. Get those right and almost anybody will eat it. The braise is forgiving if you keep it low and slow, and the vinegar keeps it bright instead of heavy.
Amos’s closing line on the page, as practical as anything he ever wrote: “young coon in the fall after the frost is yor best bet. a big old boar is sausage meat if hes lucky. this aint a meal to get sentimental over.”
Practical Notes
- Take them in the fall, after the first frost. A coon fattened up for winter carries less of the wild taste than a summer one.
- Young is better than old. Same as everything that walks. An old boar raccoon is tougher and stronger than a young one.
- Find and remove the leg glands before you do anything else. Skip this and the whole roast is shot.
- Don’t rush the soak. Overnight is the minimum worth doing.
- Check your local regs on seasons and methods. Raccoon hunting rules vary a lot by state, and some places allow trapping year round.
Next from the folder: Recipe No. 6 — Muskrat. Amos’s note reads: “muskrat aint bad if you got the stomach for skinnin the little devils.”
