Words matter. These are the best Jonathan Miles Quotes, and they’re great for sharing with your friends.
An early remedy for malaria called for tossing the sufferer, Br’er Rabbit-style, into a prickly bush; in his hasty retreat, went the thinking, he might leave the fever behind. Orally-administered cobwebs were also deemed effective.
A hot, deep bowl of venison chili is as close to manna from Heaven as you’re likely to find in deer camp.
Most of the time, comparing printed song lyrics with poems is like comparing recipes with food: that’s to say, patently unfair.
The James Brown we saw tended to be the James Brown we chose to see: as the caped crusader of funk and soul, adored by millions, or as the face in a seemingly endless series of mug shots. The ways in which he appealed to and appalled different audiences made Brown a kind of national Rorschach test.
The greatest meal of my life involved a Triscuit.
Without strenuous preplanning, road food is almost always bad food, sad food, chain food, clown food.
I once stumped Jimmy Buffett by calling him a saint.
Bullies are bullies, and they’re always uninteresting.
For most of the competitors, winning the Dakar has little to do with the standings on the final day and everything to do with making it to the final day.
So much magazine writing is playing to an empty room. You work like a plow horse, your words get printed on a half-million or more copies, and then it often just disappears into this national vacuum.
Think schnitzel, and you usually think veal or pork: pounded into tenderness, battered, and fried to a golden magnificence.
For me, alcohol has this endless fascination that there’s this substance that can enhance life so beautifully and destroy it so completely.
A banal poem is never more than a banal poem. A banal or trite lyric, however, can be – with the right vocal cords – brilliantly and shatteringly conveyed.
The South’s cuisine is often likened to gumbo – a thick and bubbling melange, spiked with a little bit of this, a little bit of that – yet the metaphor, like the dish, comes from West Africa.
The booming popularity of alligator hunting, sparked by reality shows like the History Channel’s ‘Swamp People,’ is easy to understand: It’s an exotic blast of adrenaline. But there’s a culinary upside as well, with gator boasting a delicate light-pink meat that, to me, falls somewhere between veal and wild turkey.
Wild geese have so much less fat than their domestic brethren that, as far as the kitchen is concerned, the two birds should be considered different species altogether – so much so that they require opposite roasting methods.
It’s often said that doves provide valuable practice for duck season, but this strikes me as upside down. With their tiny profiles, wicked speed, and fighter-plane acrobatics, doves are more difficult to take down.
Havana is one of the great cities of the world, sublimely tawdry yet stubbornly graceful, like tarnished chrome – a city, as a young Winston Churchill once wrote, where ‘anything might happen.’
Though little known in the U.S., the Dakar is a sports juggernaut in Europe, where France’s state broadcasting company runs more than 25 hours of coverage, and the leading drivers and riders are accorded the same status we give to Super Bowl quarterbacks.
Roasting fish that’s encased inside a salt crust is a centuries-old method of ensuring moist, ultra-flavorful flesh.
Most of us seem to be buried under our own possessions, and it seems to be getting worse.
If you’re trout fishing in the lochs of Scotland, your catch may end up like this: batter-crusted with that ubiquitous Scottish staple, oats; and served beside a generous mound of stovies, Scottish slang for stove-roasted potatoes.
For centuries, pates have been one of the greatest vehicles for wild game. But making a pate, which is nothing more than a meatloaf, has tended to be a laborious task, with ingredient lists as long as a shotgun barrel.
Young men feel they have much to prove; older men, as a very general rule, tend to feel more comfortable in their skins.
Anyone who’s ever read the lyrics of an already cherished song has most likely encountered that hollow sensation of something missing, the absence of certain emotional integers. It can be like viewing a loved one’s X-rays.
The best largemouth bass fishing I’ve ever encountered was at Lake Huites, a vast impoundment on the outskirts of the Sierra Madre Occidentals in Sinaloa, Mexico.
Poyha is a venison dish handed down from the Cherokee tribe. You can think of it as a meatloaf, which it is, or as a skillet of cornbread that some venison sneaked into, which it also is. Either way, it’s a simple and satisfying meal.
With the notable exceptions of rum drinks, black beans, fat brown cigars, the smiles of pretty girls, hot yellow sunlight, and fat men with guitars and bongos playing mambos, rumbas, and boleros late into the night, nothing in Cuba comes easily.
If everything is disposable or recyclable, how does that make us feel about ourselves and each other?
After a solid day of fishing, I’m craving something hearty. That’s where a jug of buttermilk comes in. Poaching fish in buttermilk yields the luscious texture and pure flavor, but with a more substantial richness and a poaching liquid you’ll want to lap up with a spoon.
Of course, there’s nothing wrong with deer burgers and venison chili, but with a little gusto, those stalwarts can go from satisfying to sublime.
Grilling grapes may sound crazy, but the smoky, blistered char they get from a few minutes on the fire gives them a deep, winelike character.
Trout plus bacon is one of civilization’s greatest formulas; it always equals pleasure.
David Benioff can hardly be classified as an underdog. The 2002 film adaptation of his first novel, ‘The 25th Hour,’ was directed by Spike Lee and starred Edward Norton.
My childhood was basically divided between fishing and roaming the woods and hiding out in my bedroom. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently if I’d had a TV in there; who knows.
I guess I’m old-fashioned.
The enemy of successful long-term freezing is air. When air meets food, dehydration occurs, leading to freezer burn. With delicate proteins like fish, freezer burn can be downright fatal, ruining both texture and flavor.
The perfect way for an angler who loves to cook to show off his fish is serving it whole, fresh off the grill, with crispy skin and moist flesh. Problem is, that’s not usually how it happens.
I was born in Cleveland, Ohio; raised primarily in Phoenix, Arizona; and, after running away from home in my teens to play music and bouncing around a bit, settled in Oxford, Mississippi, which I consider more my home than anywhere else in the world.
The mint julep may be sacred in the South, but so is college football, and that doesn’t stop us from enjoying it.
Though we tend to reach for the bacon or sausage, fish and eggs are a classic breakfast combination in many places around the world, and for good reason: They’re great together.
More often than not, punches underwhelm – too fizzy, too fruity, too sherbet-y, and/or too baroque, the flavors all muddled into the boozy equivalent of the water left over from cleaning watercolor brushes.
I’m either proud or embarrassed to say that I never took a journalism class in my life.
The rich flavors of duck meat have always attracted sweet, fruit-based sauces.
A combination of stir-fry and salad, Lok Lak is a popular staple in Cambodia. It’s usually made with beef, but in olden times, in the country’s mountainous areas, venison would’ve gone sizzling into the wok.
A mourning dove’s beauty is an understated one: the colors of its feathers ranging through various shades of gray and drab violet, often with a striking splash of turquoise around the eyes.
Technically, fish can last up to half a year in a freezer, but their quality starts to slide after the first month.
Not long ago, in an excruciatingly remote village in the Australian Outback, I was startled to see a bartender in a cowboy hat measuring out a classically proportioned French 75 – something he’d picked up on the Internet, he told me.
For whatever reason, I encounter Canadian whiskey at hunting camps way more often than I do in restaurants, bars, or homes. Could be the lower price. Could be the mellow character, which lends itself to long hours of fireside sipping. Or it could just be tradition.
Dry rubs are as integral to downhome barbeque as smoke.
