Venison Roast — The Meal That Belongs to the Long Years

New Year's 2041. Twenty-four years sober. Sixty years old, turning sixty-one in February. Papá called at midnight, same as always, his voice steady and warm across the line from Las Cruces. He's eighty years old and still waking up at six to check on the garden, still cooking most evenings, still writing one thing he's grateful for in the notebook he started last year. He said he's on page forty-two of the notebook and that he's started having to look further back each morning to find something new, which he said forces him deeper into his own history and he likes it. He said he wrote about the day I was born last week. He said: it was cold and your mother was brave and you came out screaming and I thought: good. Loud and healthy is all you can ask for. He said: it's been sixty years and you're still loud. Still healthy. I said: yes, Papá. He said: that's worth writing down.

What I'm carrying into 2041: the book, which Elena says is getting close to a real first draft. The cooking, which has become something I do not just for family but for itself — I've been keeping a cooking journal since the retirement, recording what I make and how it turns out and what I'd change. A granddaughter who shows up on Sundays with her apron and her step stool. A son who is a state champion coach. A daughter at the University of Washington, another in Albuquerque writing books, another in Denver doing the work she loves. A wife who paints mountains and who has been beside me for twenty-five years. Parents who are alive and eighty years old in Las Cruces.

I have, against considerable odds, a very good life. I say this not with surprise — I've been aware of it for years — but with an active, daily gratitude that does not dull with repetition. It gets sharper, actually. The older I get, the sharper the gratitude. That's the deal, I think. You pay attention long enough and you start to see it clearly.

On New Year’s night, after Papá hung up and the house settled into that particular quiet that follows something true being said, I went to the kitchen. Not because anyone was hungry — because I needed to do something with my hands that honored the moment. A long, slow roast felt right: something that asked for patience, that filled the house with a smell that said we are here, we are warm, we are still at the table. I’ve been making venison roast on the big nights for years now, and it has become the dish I cook when gratitude gets too large for words.

Venison Roast

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 3 hrs 30 min | Total Time: 3 hrs 50 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 3 to 4 lb venison roast (shoulder or hindquarter), trimmed
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
• 1 tsp black pepper
• 1 tsp garlic powder
• 1 tsp smoked paprika
• 1/2 tsp dried thyme
• 1/2 tsp dried rosemary
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 large yellow onion, roughly chopped
• 3 carrots, cut into 2-inch pieces
• 3 stalks celery, cut into 2-inch pieces
• 2 cups beef or venison broth
• 1/2 cup dry red wine
• 2 tbsp tomato paste
• 2 sprigs fresh rosemary
• 2 bay leaves

Instructions

1. Preheat and season. Preheat your oven to 325°F. Pat the venison roast dry with paper towels. In a small bowl, combine the salt, pepper, garlic powder, smoked paprika, dried thyme, and dried rosemary. Rub the spice mixture evenly over all sides of the roast.
2. Sear the roast. Heat the olive oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Sear the roast on all sides until deeply browned, about 3 to 4 minutes per side. Transfer the roast to a plate and set aside.
3. Build the base. Reduce the heat to medium. Add the onion, carrots, and celery to the same Dutch oven and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the minced garlic and tomato paste and cook for 1 minute more, stirring constantly.
4. Deglaze and add liquid. Pour in the red wine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Let it simmer for 2 minutes, then add the broth, fresh rosemary sprigs, and bay leaves.
5. Braise low and slow. Return the seared roast to the pot, nestling it among the vegetables. The liquid should come about halfway up the sides of the roast. Cover tightly with a lid and transfer to the oven. Roast for 3 to 3 1/2 hours, until the meat is fork-tender and pulls apart easily.
6. Rest and serve. Remove the roast from the oven and let it rest, covered, for 15 minutes before slicing or pulling. Discard the bay leaves and rosemary sprigs. Serve with the braising vegetables and pan juices spooned over the top.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 340 | Protein: 48g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 9g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 610mg