Shredded Venison Sandwiches

January 2030. New year and new decade. I made a note in the food journal: decade begins. The land has been mine for seven years. The house is here. The family is well. The practice is alive. Good conditions for a new decade.

Kai was finishing his third year at the Vermont program and had been talking about his direction for when he came home. He wanted to work in agroecology—specifically in the intersection of Indigenous land practices and regenerative agriculture, which his program had given him language and framework for that I hadn't had when I was doing the same thing intuitively. He said he thought the food forest work I'd been doing was ahead of what most academic programs were teaching, but that he wanted to help formalize it so other people could replicate it.

I said: come home and let's talk. He said: I'll be home in May. I said: we'll walk the land. He said: and eat at the range. I said: obviously.

River was nine and growing fast and asking questions about everything with an intensity that suggested he was building some large internal model that required constant inputs. He asked me in January what the most important thing I'd ever learned was. I said: how to be patient enough to let things take the time they need. He thought about this and said: like cooking? I said: cooking, and planting, and teaching, and people. He said: that's a lot of things. I said: it's one thing that applies to many things. He considered this. He said: okay. He went back to whatever he'd been doing. The question had arrived, been answered, been filed. He'd carry it somewhere it would be useful.

When Kai said “and eat at the range,” we both knew what that meant — something slow, something from the land, something that had taken its time and was better for it. The venison had been in the freezer since fall, and January felt like the right moment to pull it out: slow-cook it down into something that could feed a family that was, slowly and in its own time, pulling itself back together. Patient enough to let things take the time they need — River’s question had already been answered by the pot on the stove.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 8 hours | Total Time: 8 hours 15 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 1/2 lbs venison roast (shoulder or neck, trimmed)
1 medium yellow onion, sliced thin
4 cloves garlic, smashed
1 cup beef or venison broth
1/2 cup barbecue sauce, plus more for serving
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
6 sturdy sandwich rolls or brioche buns
Coleslaw or pickled vegetables for topping (optional)

Instructions

Season the roast. Pat the venison roast dry with paper towels. Season all sides with salt, black pepper, and smoked paprika.
Layer the slow cooker. Place sliced onion and smashed garlic in the bottom of a slow cooker. Set the seasoned roast on top.
Add the liquid. Whisk together the broth, barbecue sauce, Worcestershire sauce, brown sugar, and red pepper flakes if using. Pour the mixture over and around the roast.
Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 7—8 hours, until the venison is completely tender and pulls apart easily with two forks. Do not rush this on HIGH — the low, long cook is what drives out the gaminess and builds the depth.
Shred. Transfer the roast to a cutting board and shred with two forks, discarding any connective tissue or bone fragments. Return the shredded meat to the slow cooker and stir to coat well with the cooking juices. Let it rest in the liquid for 10 minutes.
Assemble the sandwiches. Toast the rolls if desired. Pile the shredded venison generously onto each bun. Spoon extra barbecue sauce over the top and finish with coleslaw or pickled vegetables if using.

Nutrition (per serving)

Shredded Venison Sandwiches — The Range, the Land, and Starting a New Decade Right