Does venison jerky count? My father had some made up at the butcher shop this fall. Awesome awesome stuff.
Reminds me, I have some venison sausage down in the fridge. Time to get a bite. Bye.
On a camping trip, several years ago, in Shenandoah National Park my husband and I purchased ** Wild Bill’s Jerky ** in the Big Meadows mini mart. It was April; 40 degrees up there in the mountains, windy and raining.
At 2:00am the tent blew over, my husband panicked and ran to the car. I, however, tried to set things straight and unsuccessfully attempted to get the tent set up again. At 2:45 I was drenched and finally gave up, the wind and rain won.
I jumped in the car and he was shivering even though he was wrapped up like an eggroll in four sleeping bags. Whimp.
Him: “Turn on the car so we have some heat.” Teeth chattering
Me: “No, it will wake up the other campers. Why should they suffer for our misfortune”
Him: “So drive some where” Teeth chattering
Me: “Where would you like me to go? It’s 3:00 in the morning and we are in the mountains”
4:30 AM I’m dry and warm. He still has all four sleeping bags and has bitched non-stop about how cold he was.
Him: “I’m hungry” Teeth chattering
Me: “Me too. Where is the jerky we bought?”
Him: “I think its in the tent” Teeth chattering
:smack:
Why he would bring the Jerky into the tent is beyond me. On the seven hour ride from NY to VA, I explained all the rules of camping. Including the one about not bringing food into the tent. I simply chalked it off to inexperience.
So I jump out, run to the tent, which is now completely flat and laying in a puddle of mud. In the dark and simultaneously trying not to get mud inside the tent, I used one hand to push the roof of the tent up and on my belly feeling around with the other. A few minutes later I hear the horn honk. I run back, noting that the camper next to us turned their lantern on and judging by the movement of their shadows on the tent walls they we not happy.
Me: “What!!”
Him: “Honey, it was here the whole time.” He calmly states, holding up the bag of jerky with a big goofy smile on his face.
It occurs to me know that the bag was open, leading me to believe that he helped himself to a few pieces before he thought of his poor wife struggling with a downed tent to find the freaking stuff.
Now, that was **the best ** jerky I have ever had and the last camping trip with my husband.
No, but thanks anyway: I decided to research a bit, and I found out that it is Link’s that is my current favorite besides homemade.
I’m glad to see that I’m not alone in experiencing its corrosive nature when ingested in excess. 