Remember when I was

The best part is I didn't just get to try moose, I got to figure out how to cook it myself. Since I knew I wouldn’t make it through any amount of meat bigger than my finger, I invited over a few friends to share. The result? Garlic and Rosemary Moose Ribs, Vancouver style.

Ingredients:

• olive oil• garlic• rosemary• mustard• salt and pepper• moose ribs

Instructions:

1. Pick up the ribs from friend’s friend before work.

2. Rush home to marinate them for as long as possible because you’ve read 25 recipes on the internet that say moose is really, really hard to cook, and you absolutely must marinate it.

3. Chop garlic and rosemary. Put them, the olive oil and the mustard with the ribs inside a giant ziploc bag in the fridge.

4. Change your mind, put the bag inside a bowl with running water in the sink and contemplate leaving it there all day.

5. Decide that's ridiculous and put the ribs back in the fridge, in their bag, but with the bag inside a bowl this time. It looks ok. You're just nervous because you've never done this before. Just go to work already.

6. Talk about the moose meat in your fridge for most of your work day, irritating your coworkers to the extent that they are quite happy to see you leave early, excusing yourself because you have to “pop your moose meat into the oven. It’s really hard to cook, you know.”

7. Pour the ribs and their goopy marinade into a big pot or deep pan with about a half liter of water to simmer for mmmm, probably an hour.

8. Stick all of this into a middle-ish temperature oven for a long while. Like, a couple of hours, depending on when your company arrives and how much they distract you from your moose.

9. Babble nervously with guests and drink a bit too much because you’re afraid that said moose will taste terrible in the end and your meal will consist of mashed potatoes, bread, salad, fruit and cookies. Not a terrible meal, but, well, you kind of played up the moose element a lot by now. It's kind of why everyone actually came.

10. Pull very dark, very ominous lump of meat out of the oven and peer at it suspiciously until one of your guests comes to the kitchen to offer support.

11. Slice. Across the grain. Holy toledo, those are big bones.

12. Announce that the meat is coming to the potluck table. Tell folk to get off their butts and try some because it is Absolutely Totally Delicious.

13. Bathe in the fame and glory of feeling just that much more Canadian.

Serve this wild game with a few equally wild and intellectually stimulating games. I recommend Crokinole and Boggle. Or maybe just set up some dominoes and knock them down.