Buffalo Chicken Pull Apart Bread

November is the month when Louisiana hunting gets serious. Dove season was the appetizer. Now it's deer season, and I've been waiting since January. I hunt on a lease in West Feliciana Parish — rolling hills, hardwood bottoms, the kind of country that doesn't look like south Louisiana at all. It's an hour north of Baton Rouge, and when I drive up there on a Saturday morning before dawn, it feels like I'm crossing into another state, another century, a place where the world is older and quieter and the only agenda is the one the sun sets.

Opening morning. I was in my stand at 5 AM, forty feet up a water oak, watching the woods go from black to grey to that luminous blue that exists only in the last minutes before dawn. The cold was real — forty-five degrees, which in Louisiana terms is arctic — and I could see my breath, and the thermos of coffee in my hand was the most important object in the universe. Below me, the forest floor was a carpet of leaves, and I watched a doe and her fawn walk through at first light, unhurried, unaware, the fawn still spotted and small. I didn't shoot. You don't shoot does on opening morning. You watch. You wait. You remember that hunting isn't about killing. It's about being in the woods so long that the woods forget you're there.

I didn't get a deer this weekend. Saw a small buck — a six-pointer, too young, not worth taking. Let him walk. He'll be bigger next year, and I'll be back next year, and that's the contract: you let the young ones grow, and the woods let you come back. Joey taught me that. "Don't take what ain't ready, cher. The bayou gives, and you wait." He was talking about fishing, but it's the same.

Came home empty-handed and made venison chili from last year's deer, which I keep in the chest freezer in one-pound packages labeled with Danielle's label maker because Danielle has labeled everything in our house including, I suspect, me. (I checked. She has not. Yet.) Venison chili is different from regular chili — leaner, gamier, with a depth that beef can't match. I add a little pork fat to make up for the leanness, and I cook it low and slow, the way you cook all things that deserve respect. Cornbread on the side. Cold beer. The TV on low with the LSU game.

Rémy asked me to take him hunting. Again. He's been asking since the dove season and he's going to keep asking until I say yes. I told him next year, maybe, for dove, and he said, "Not maybe. Yes." I looked at Danielle. Danielle looked at the ceiling. The negotiation continues.

I didn’t fill my tag this weekend, but I’ll tell you what — that LSU game wasn’t going to watch itself, and the chili was already on the stove. Next time I’m feeding a crowd on a cold Saturday when someone’s asking about hunting and someone else is hollering at the TV, I’m making this Buffalo Chicken Pull Apart Bread alongside it — the kind of thing you set in the middle of the table and it disappears before halftime, no explanation needed.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 round sourdough boule (about 1 lb)
2 cups cooked chicken, shredded
1/2 cup buffalo hot sauce (such as Frank’s RedHot)
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
1/2 cup crumbled blue cheese
3 green onions, thinly sliced
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Ranch or blue cheese dressing, for serving

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 375°F. Line a baking sheet with foil.
Prepare the bread. Using a serrated knife, cut the boule in a crosshatch pattern — slicing down to about 1 inch from the bottom of the loaf, spacing cuts about 1 inch apart in both directions. Do not cut all the way through; the loaf should stay intact.
Make the buffalo chicken filling. In a medium bowl, toss the shredded chicken with the buffalo sauce, garlic powder, and black pepper until evenly coated.
Stuff the bread. Gently pry open the cuts in the loaf and stuff the buffalo chicken mixture down into each crevice, distributing it as evenly as possible. Tuck shredded mozzarella and crumbled blue cheese into the cuts as well, pressing it in alongside the chicken.
Add butter and green onions. Drizzle the melted butter evenly over the top of the entire loaf, letting it run down into the cuts. Scatter the sliced green onions over the top.
Wrap and bake. Wrap the stuffed loaf loosely in foil and bake on the prepared baking sheet for 20 minutes. Unwrap the foil and continue baking for an additional 5 minutes, until the cheese is fully melted and the top is golden and slightly crisp.
Serve immediately. Transfer the loaf to a cutting board or serve directly on the foil. Set out ranch or blue cheese dressing alongside for dipping. Let everyone pull apart their own pieces — that’s the whole point.

Nutrition (per serving)

Buffalo Chicken Pull Apart Bread — Because Some Game Days Start in a Deer Stand