A man and his goat
Whenever our artist friend Bob is in town we look forward to an invitation to his cabin in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley where there’s usually some rip-roaring fun to be had behind an inevitably unusual food experience. I don’t think Bob does this by design. He’s just a very opportunistic eater. In this case, a neighbor offered him a goat. Bob went to the neighbor’s, picked out his goat, and after the animal was killed, Bob took it home and butchered it himself.
When we arrived at the cabin yesterday we found that Bob had fashioned a fire pit and a spit for the goat, which had been cooking for about four hours. Every so often he would turn the spit to focus a different part of the carcas on the fire. At this point, it is incumbent on the visitor to find a glass, some wine, a comfortable seat and make good conversation until the meal is ready. Notice the impromptu benches strategically positioned around the cooking area.
Watching the goat cook
I think this photograph captures the critical phase of hydrating and catching up while the beast cooks. Some attention is paid to which direction the wind is blowing so as not to be smoked out. A stack of bricks makes a handy platform for a drink.
Occasional testing is critical
From time to time, Bob would inspect the meat and even cut off a piece for testing. You want to be close by when this occurs and not miss the experience of a hot piece of goat meat. You may not be able to see this very well, but the fire, made with logs gleaned from the surrounding forest, was actually quite low. As it turned out, Bob could have figured another hour for cooking the goat. Some of it–not much, really–was a little underdone, expecially in the thicker muscles.
A death-defying swing
Kids usually have no interest in cooking or eating goat. They have been looking forward all week to a turn on Bob’s gigantic, scary rope swing. However, every once in a while you will come across the odd child who spurns the swing in favor of the goat.
A devilishly clever construction
Bob, who built the cabin with his own hands, is something of a mad genius when it comes to building things with materials at hand. Normally he is a painter. But if you’ve been following him lately, you probably have seen photographs of some of the stone arches he has been building. Somehow he has gotten it into his head that decorating the landscape with arches made from stones found lying around makes a profound artistic statement–or maybe just fun.
Here, I wanted you to get a look at the firewall he built from some bricks and stones gathered around the property. The wall helps contain the fire, of course, but also reflects heat onto the goat. The goat has been situated not so much directly over the fire as in front of it, a traditional method of cooking with radiant heat.
Also notice the lovely cedar log. Bob’s property overlooks a stream called Cedar Creek, so named because of the proliferation of cedar trees. In the lower left corner is something most rare at these events: an unopened wine bottle. At the other end of the frame is a big loaf of bread warming by the fire. As you may have gathered, Bob likes his food on the rustic side.
Time to carve the goat
When it is time to eat, there is a great deal of discussion around the doneness level of the goat. A parade of cooks prod, squeeze and poke the meat and weigh in with their opinions. But there’s no way to tell for certain without cutting into the meat. Bob uses his trusty hunting knife to break the carcass into pieces. He sets the pieces that seem especially rare aside, to eat himself. Only the finest equipment, such as this gourmet-quality aluminum pan, is deployed for this process. Martha Stewart, eat your heart out!
For some reason while carving the goat Bob feels compelled to disclose that the offal from the goat–the kidneys, the heart, the liver–were cooked earlier and already consumed. Somehow, it doesn’t seem right that the host should skip ahead to the choicest morsels and actually boast about eating them before anyone else has arrived. Bob explains that he was “really hungry,” but when I hector him mercilessly on this point, he goes back to the kitchen and returns with a small plate of pan-fried goat liver and onions. It turns out the goat liver was “really huge”–as indicated by Bob’s outstretched hands–and yet there are only a few bites remaining.
Moral of the story: you have to get to Bob’s early if you want goat kidneys, heart, liver.
Nothing beats eating with friends
Finally, we eat. Bob’s son Vinny made a terrific pumpkin and potato soup to go with this meal. Believe it or not, there is one vegetarian at the table–our friend Eric–which is the reason for the container of Senegalese black-eyed pea salad (sound familiar?) on the table. Vinny had also made a pot of rice and some spicy black beans.
There was more than enough goat to go around. It was quite good, infused with smoky flavor from the fire. The taste of goat is like lamb, perhaps a little sweeter, the meat a little chewier. In Mexico this would make a traditional barbacoa with lots of tortillas and salsas on the table. Bob was planning to make sandwiches with the leftovers. Hey, Bob. What about some goat meat tacos?
Can you tell we are having a great time?
We are engaging the concerns of a hungry planet--slowly--right here in our kitchen garden in the District of Columbia, about a mile from the White House.
Sounds like my kind of party!
How do I manage to be introduced to Bob?
and, Ed, TACOS???? I thought no carbohydrates for you… (smile)…
Sylvie, Bob spends most of his time in France painting. You would probably get along great. Maybe you’d like to join us next time?
No, I wouldn’t be eating the tacos. But I would take plenty of the goat and salsa.
that goat looks divine
BR, the goat was pretty darn good. We Americans should eat more goat.