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Subject: leg o' lamb a la parachute cord

My hubby and I camp/hunt a ton.  One New Years' Eve we were up in the Arizona wilderness on the most rugged deer hunt ever.  After some success, we backpacked back down to the truck, cleaned up in the FA-REEEEZING creek and started dinner.  We had a leg of lamb kept frozen/defrosting in the truck cooler for the 4 days we were on top of the mountain.  When hubby unwrapped it, he realized that it was actually a butterflied boneless leg - great for stuffing, but problematic if you just want a roast leg o lamb!  

So, after digging through his backpack he found a wad of parachute cord in the bottom of the pack that had probably been there since he was a boy scout.  
After shaking it out thoroughly and checking for cactus spines and creepy crawlies, he used it to wrap the leg.  We always have garlic, olive oil and rosemary in the camp kitchen, so he spread a paste of that out on the leg, rolled it all up and secured tightly with the parachute cord.  Then he poked holes all over the roast and stuck garlic slivers in the holes.  THEN, he rubbed the whole roast with a mash of canned anchovies (indispensible in your camp kitchen), seared it in the hot dutch oven, poured in a little water and closed the lid.  
After covering the lid with hot coals, we only had to wait about an hour for the most mouth-watering roast lamb I've ever had.  I'm betting we were the only people within a 20-mile radius eating that well that New Years' Eve!
I just felt like I had to throw down for my first post!  

Awe I feel so bad for the animals

That sounds delicious! Nicole - if most of the hunters are like my husband, most of the animals are safe.

my husband says we are never hunting Bambi, we are hunting Bambi's evil, doe-assaulting  uncle. . . .  

Oh, and which animal did you feel bad for?  the lamb that donated his leg or the deer that died honorably in the field of battle?  


(or the bull that donated his hide for my boots, or the chickens who became the canned stock, or the cow whose milk got evaporated  for the canned milk or the goose who went bald for my down jacket. . .?)

Or my husband who had to hear me complain about how bad my feet hurt and how heavy my pack was and how cold I was and how I just really wanted a bath!

LOL! That last statement sounds like me! My husband always reminds me of the first (and last) time he took me deer hunting with him. I got a case of the sniffles, couldn't stop sniffing and sneezing, and he was very upset that I couldn't be quiet. We still laugh about it, and it's been over 20 years. What fun. 

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