The essentials:

• One hip flask of bourbon
• One cigar
• A single shot .410 shotgun with shells
• A beautiful fall day

For a successful cassoulet I find that it always comes down to the choice and use of proper ingredients and tools (and I speak with the wisdom gained from the experience of cooking it once before). So, rest easy with that assurance and let us begin your instruction, with the hunt.

First essential: It has been my private contention that there are not too many bad bourbons in this world. It is for this reason, of course, that we have been, and God willing remain, a mighty people. For a mighty people need a mighty liquor; but only if consumed in moderation and in safe circumstances, such as during a fall hunt, with a loaded gun, for squirrel. The conveyance of that liquid is by means of the hunter’s hip flask, a slim half-pint meant only to sustain (not inebriate) one for the rigors of the field and wood. It should be filled with whatever whisky is ready to the hand. In my case it was a bottle of Four Roses that drew my eye and steadier grasp.

Second essential: Cigars on the other hand can range from the sublime to the truly awful. I was gifted on my recent birthday a couple of dozen cigars by friends that validated the truth of that full range of experience. But when my beloved instructs guests to bring a bottle of wine or whiskey, and/or cigars as gifts, I can be considered blessed before the guests even darken the door. Even for the lifetime supply of Sambuca, in the form of one bottle, that I was made a present of by a dear friend, I will vow to remain humbled and truly appreciative. But we speak of cigars, meaning, that it was a nice fat robusto that I selected, from the fair isle of Hispaniola, to accompany me for this trip into our woods; leaving a birthday gifted vanilla flavored abomination in the humidor (double bagged for the safety of its neighbors) to share, no doubt, with a future visiting nephew.

Third essential: The firearm of choice, and I do have a selection to draw on here, was, as in most instances, the boy’s single shot .410. And for that fact, I do not blush. Hunting the wily tree chicken, the high wire rodent, requires a light touch and a fast swing. I have tried with both 12- and 16-gauge shotguns with modest results. The shorter barrel of the .410 (aka a 37 gauge and sometimes as a 67) gives a wider pattern of shot when one is taking a quick aim. As for instance when, while I had a lit cigar in my mouth while also simultaneously taking a whiz, a gray squirrel popped out thirty feet from me barking on a limb. I was able to successfully cock the gun, swing, shoot, kill, then “reholstering” myself, collected the game, all while taking another puff or two.

Fourth essential: It is, and you may have already picked up on this, somewhat of a sacrilege to be walking and smoking (a cigar, anyway) on a fine day. I agree. Each are separately meditative. However, there were already two squirrels in the game bag at my back when I sat down to take a restorative nip and snip the end of the cigar. The green woods before me were speckled in salmon, reds, and golds on what was one of the most beautiful of Tennessee fall afternoons. The air was a crisp 58 degrees. All was at peace as I sat on the log and reflected… sat and reflected, that is, that my bladder was full. Which is when I stood, answered that call, and shot the third and final target for the cassoulet dish I had planned.

With that success I sat back down, finished the cigar, had another sip from the flask and thought, you know this farming life ain’t half bad. Finally, when with a couple of inches of gray ash remaining of the cigar, I stubbed it out, stood and returned down the wooded path to our home to clean my harvest.

(Next time, part two, in which the steps in preparing a confit of squirrel and cooking the cassoulet will be laid out with the same clear detail as today’s lessons on hunting.)

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