For the summer, one of our friends is living in a motor home in our driveway. This is one of those things that makes me think, only in Alaska. Anywhere else he'd be considered homeless, and us cruel for "making" him stay out there. (We did offer the guest bedroom, but he didn't want to pay rent. Hence, the motor home.)
For the privilege of being in our driveway, using our bathroom and kitchen facilities, as well as paying us for the electricity he's using he's giving us the contents of his chest freezer. All I can say is, yum. It's packed full of things like halibut, more salmon, etc. We tried antelope last night. (Don't ask me where he got antelope, I have no idea.) Conclusion: antelope is not my favorite meat. I liked Shane's marinade, and the way he cooked it kept the meat really tender. But the actual taste of the meat wasn't something I care for. Oh well.
I am looking forward to cooking up some halibut tomorrow. Halibut requires deep sea fishing, not the dip-netting (it's exactly what it sounds like) that Shane's parents do, so we don't have it that often. When we do, it's more of a delicacy. (Unlike salmon.) My mom's recipe for beer battered halibut calls for Bisquick (the whole recipe is: beer, Bisquick; combine to thick and goopy stage), but I can't really find a great sounding recipe that doesn't call for something like Bisquick, pancake mix, or at least seasoning mixes. Hmmm. I might experiment. Or I might just suck it up and buy Bisquick, which I haven't bought in ages.
Anyway, all of this will certainly help with the grocery bill for the summer since we'll mostly be eating game meats. Now if only the farmers would get their veggies in and bring them to the farmer's market, life would be perfect. All they've had so far are cucumbers, which are ok but I'm not a big enough fan to buy and eat tons of them. Not even as pickles, which I've thought about making.
The one thing I did buy at the farmer's market last weekend was a bar of goat's milk soap. You know what the dog did? Climbed up on the table and started eating it. Not too much, I think she realized pretty quickly that it didn't taste as good as it apparently smelled. But she's been climbing on the table a lot lately. When Shane gets up, she's sleeping on the table and doesn't seem to realize that she's doing something wrong. I've been trying to explain to her the difference between cat privileges and dog privileges (the cat gets to be on the table, the dog gets to go for walks), but she doesn't seem to understand. For now, the cat is staying firmly in the place of favored child.