Midnight Mutterings | The Mighty Hunter

||| MIDNIGHT MUTTERINGS by JACKIE BATES |||

Most of us have an evening meal at home, if we aren’t among the few who have dinner in a restaurant or bar nightly. Those of us who eat at home have various habits that ensure there are groceries ready to cook or leftovers to warm. Possibly cans to open, ingredients or prepared meals from the freezer to thaw and cook. The garden can be a resource for those Little Red Hens who plan ahead and maybe even have a chicken coop. Perhaps a few of us shop every or most days for ingredients for the evening meal. But my neighbor, The Mighty Hunter was different.

He took responsibility and action for the main dish of the evening meal for his family each, or at least most days as far as I know.

He is gone from the neighborhood now. Has been for some years, and I lost touch with him after he moved. I’m not sure where he is or was. The two children are, no doubt, grown and fledged, and I don’t know how that may have changed his routine of preparing daily for their dinner. I’m not even sure what part his wife had in nightly dinners when he lived here and I never had dinner with them, ever. All my information was gained on my walks in the early or late afternoon when he stopped to chat a bit on his way to or from his daily hunt. Of course I didn’t see him or chat every day, but it happened often enough for me to know a little about his daily routine. At least what I observed and what he shared with me.

So some time in mid or late afternoon, the Mighty Hunter mounted his good steed Beamer and left on his mission: gathering a main item for his family’s dinner. With him were his bow and arrows and other weapons for the hunt. I presume a credit card or cash, possibly a bag of some sort for his bounty. I never really saw what he returned with, but he often told me what he hoped to score if we met early. Or what he had actually bagged, if we met on his way home.

I can’t remember everything TMH brought home. I do recall he sometimes scored some kind of bird, or at least part of a fowl. A turkey breast or drumsticks, a couple of Cornish Hens, organic chicken tenders or breast, a pork loin, if he hunted in early afternoon. Perhaps a rotisserie chicken, sometimes short ribs, already prepared, in summer when Buck Bay Bistro and Shellfish was open. Or a prepared meal from Doe Bay Restaurant, if he was running late and had phoned in an order. Cafe Olga (or one of its several names) could be good hunting. If TMH went into Eastsound, besides island Market and the Co-op, there were restaurants which would box up orders for the family. What I do know its that TMH was a dedicated carnivore, so if he brought home a pizza, it was likely to have pepperoni or sausage or both. I think he sometimes got fresh fish or shrimp fresh from the Salish Sea, if someone was selling in a parking lot.

TMH never mentioned veggie burgers, green vegetables, breads or ice cream, so I assume if those were someone else’s responsibility, possible his wife or children, who apparently planned ahead, and shopped at times other than the day of the dinner. Possibly, they planned and prepared sides and dessert, if they had them, without knowledge of the main course to be. TMH never mentioned the other parts of the dinners, but sometimes he revealed that he was the hunter, and often the chef for the main courses, but that he was running late for preparing his scores that required longer cooking time.

Now that the days of knowing what TMH was planning or had procured for the main item of his family’s nightly dinners are over, I miss him when I am staring into the open freezer door or stalking recipes online. I almost envy his daily treks into the wilderness, foraging for his family.

Not everybody has the time and patience and sense of possibility, or even desire, for such a routine. It certainly could ruin a budget of time and money. But we all have our quirks that seem odd or even silly to others. But when I think of the Mighty Hunter, I miss having him in my life, a little break in my afternoon walks, and knowing what TMH’s family would be having for dinner long before I knew what might turn up on my own table.