NEWS OBSERVER (Raleigh, N Carolina) 22 November 10 Snakes on a plate (Josh Shaffer)
Cary: I sliced open the bag of frozen rattlesnake meat and dropped the side-winding reptile into a pot of simmering water flavored with the juice of one lemon, and waited for the bones to fall from its angry flesh.
This year, I am thankful that my family is still working and that my 3-year-old boy is healthy, but I can't celebrate 2010 with a buttery, 10-pound turkey. Not after nine years of war and three years of grinding recession. Not with schools gone penniless and teachers heading for unemployment.
This year, we're having snake for Thanksgiving. Venomous snake.
Let me say, first, that I think snakes are beautiful animals. I bear them no ill will, and I apologize to everyone who cringes at the idea of eating them. But in this era of pink slips and busted budgets, when cholera is raging just 700 miles off the coast of Florida, I want a holiday dinner with fangs. Rattlesnakes make tough meat for tough times.
First obstacle: Rattlers are protected in North Carolina. All three native species - pygmy, timber and Eastern diamondback - are illegal to kill. So I couldn't wrestle a poisonous reptile onto the dinner table with my bare hands.
Luckily, The Meat House in Cary carries frozen, farm-raised rattlers from Texas. With tax, a 1.8-pound snake minus rattle and head, bones intact, ran me $38.54. This put a dent in my meal-for-the-recession theme, but I cheered up with the knowledge that I was holding a dinner that was still coiled, ready to strike.
I talked a bit with Jeff Gregory, the manager, who said snake-eaters are rare. You can buy quail, pheasant or alligator at his store, not to mention frog legs. If you want, he can order llama meat or elk steaks. One time, a guy walked in and asked for elephant, which The Meat House couldn't procure. But in almost a year, snake sales total only about five.
"It's got quite a lot of bones," he explained. "You want to grill it or braise it so you can pull off the bones. I once made a rabbit and rattle snake sausage, and I put in some cranberries and blueberries and some Sam Adams."
A few hours later, I was staring at a headless snake that was fatter than a Polish sausage, still coiled inside the pot, looking very much alive. I tried to recall whether I'd ever eaten another carnivore, ever tasted something that ate live prey.
I considered making him into chili, then pasta; recipes for both appear online. But I didn't want to dilute this animal with tomato sauce and garlic. So I settled for baked snake, garnished with mushrooms and lime, floating in a little puddle of half-and-half. This required deboning, which took the better part of 30 minutes, pulling strings of snake off the thick spine, like snips of string cheese.
Now I was elbow-deep in rattlesnake.
The kitchen smelled gamey, more like venison than chicken. So I put my reptile in to bake for an hour at 300 degrees. It tasted almost exactly like calamari, chewy and mild, and I wondered whether snakes have any evolutionary ties to squid.
Either way, I think he'll make more of a side dish than a central meal, being made mostly of bones.
But I thank my rattlesnake for his sacrifice. It is an honor to eat something that crawls legless through life, enduring a rocky existence on its belly, biting out at adversity.
Snakes on a plate