Wild turkey schnitzel: A satisfying hunt deserves savory tastes

Most turkey hunters would probably agree the sport satisfies nearly all the five senses – the smell of pine and dew in the early morning, the throaty gobble of a tom, the sight of his majestic strut, the texture of your heart in your throat as he draws nearer.

When it comes to taste, however, most turkey hunters wouldn’t rate the bird’s culinary merit any higher than shoe leather. This is where we disagree.

I have been hunting turkey in Washington for five years, since moving here from Illinois. I’ve also been working in one of the busiest kitchens in Spokane for more than three. I’ve had the privilege of learning a few things about both skills.

This time of year, same as every early fall season, my friend Kevin Russell and I hunt a piece of private land north of Spokane. Among 40 acres of stone ridges and pine forest, we set up beside a pond that sits between two common roost locations. In this particular Game Management Unit, our daily and possession limit is two beardless turkeys. Ambling hens are our target.

This year, we took our seats in a couple of bushes a half hour before sunrise and waited. Shadows began to take shape. The western sky before us softened. Geese flew overhead, honking as they passed, and their noise spurred the yelps of hens roosting nearby. We sat in the intersection of their conversation. Hens in the ravine behind us carried on with clucks and yelps while hens off to our left, overtop the pond, did the same.

I called only a few times – enough to keep them interested in our spot, curious, but not so much so that they might become suspicious, or even spot the motion of my hand on the slate.

The yelps grew louder to our left. Within minutes the sounds were quieter, off in the distance. Sometimes, turkeys seem able to enter the wraith world, and pass by unseen, unheard.

Once we were certain they were out of range, we stood and assessed our options. While one group of hens had headed elsewhere, we knew there was a good chance we could change spots and try to call in the second group of hens from the ravine.

Certain to stay low and keep ridges between us and the next path or patch of flat land, we spotted a group of hens a couple of hundred yards away. Because they were frolicking and moving about, instead having their heads bent to the grass, we knew they would be moving soon. There were only two directions they could go, since we knew they wouldn’t head out to the field where there was no cover and food or water source.

Kevin and I confirmed the spots where we would post up behind a ridge. Knowing each other’s location, we sat backs against a rock, facing the direction of the turkeys, waiting. A few minutes later, I heard a gunshot. Hunt over for the day.

I wouldn’t know until I met Kevin in the field that he had taken two hens with his one shot. Because he is a generous fellow, after tagging both birds, he gave me one to take home.

I butterflied both breasts and lightly pounded them to a 1/8- to ¼-inch thickness. I brined them in six cups of water and one tablespoon each of sugar, salt and black pepper. After 24 hours, it was dinner time.

For the gravy, I sautéed my onions on low heat in butter until they were soft then added my sliced mushrooms, salt, pepper and garlic. I let those simmer for about 15 minutes then deglazed with Marsala cooking wine. Don’t skimp when it comes to Marsala. There is a big difference between the cheap stuff and the quality $12-a-bottle stuff.

While the wine simmered and reduced, I started heating the canola oil to fry the breaded turkey and also preheated the oven to 425 degrees. I mixed two cups of flour with a tablespoon each of salt and pepper. I beat three eggs and mixed in a 1/2 cup of buttermilk. Once the wine had reduced, I added my beef stock and cream and continued to let that simmer. I took each turkey breast, still covered in the dregs of brine and spices, and tossed it first in the flour, giving it a nice coat, then threw it through the egg mix and finally, a bowl of panko breading.

With panko covering every square inch of both sides, I laid the breast in the oil and let it cook until the edges and the facedown side were golden brown. I flipped the turkey and placed in the oven, still in the pan of oil, for 2 minutes.

I added my tablespoon of flour to my lightly bubbling gravy pan. (Do not add flour unless pan is slightly bubbling, otherwise you’ll get clumps of flour throughout.) Feel free to add an extra tablespoon of flour if you prefer a thicker gravy. Stir often.

After 2 minutes in the oven, I placed two slices of swiss cheese overtop and let it cook for another 2 minutes. One finished, I ladled on the gravy, garnished with chives and served with potato pancakes.

Never let another hunter tell you turkey just isn’t good eating. My friend likes to cook his wild turkey while never revealing the dish’s true identity. When his friends and family respond with enthusiasm, only then does he reveal the secret.

Next week: campfire cutthroat cooking. Need recipe ideas for your fall harvests? I have a few ideas.

Contact Hennessy by email at JohnH@spokesman.com.