Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, May 26, 1993 TAG: 9308230287
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: CHUCK MARTIN LANDMARK NEWS SERVICE
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
The concrete bunker - with its cold, stainless-steel carving tables, floor drains designed to catch bodily fluids, and menacing meat hooks - might make the boldest carnivore a bit squeamish.
Outside, more than 500 head of fallow deer - a species native to Europe - naively prance about on rolling lush pasture near the village of Sperryville at the foot of Virginia's Blue Ridge.
``Last year, we sold about 150 animals,'' says Jamie Nicoll, co-owner of Piedmont Farm, the first and largest commercial deer farm in Virginia. ``That's double from the year before, and I expect it to double again this year.''
Nicoll may sound brash, but he and partner Rolfe Graage, along with an estimated 700 other deer farmers across the country who got into the business within the last 15 years, may be riding herd on the new dream meat of the decade - if not the next century.
Many Americans are rediscovering venison - the staple of their pioneer forefathers - as good food. Lean and tender, farm-raised venison is easier to cook and usually tastes much better than the tough, gamey roast shot last fall and forgotten in the freezer.
Little wonder, then, that many diners have overcome the Bambi Factor - that queasiness over Disneyesque images of dewy brown eyes staring out from a pool of, say, peppercorn sauce.
Venison lovers consumed about 1.5 million pounds of deer meat last year, according to Barbara Fox, executive director of the North American Deer Farmers' Association, headquartered outside Washington, D.C. That's a mere morsel compared to the estimated 8 million tons of beef eaten every year. But Fox says Americans have devoured 30 percent more deer each year for the past three.
``We sell all we can harvest,'' says Mike Hughes, owner and operator of the Texas Wild Game Cooperative near San Antonio. Using a slaughterhouse on wheels, Hughes kills and dresses deer in the field at his Broken Arrow and other Texas-area game ranches. Last year, Hughes shipped out about 15 tons of venison to restaurant and home chefs.
``More and more people are eating it,'' says Richard Tranchand, owner of Le Charlieu Restaurant in Norfolk, where chef Mathurin Guilloux features venison loin medallions with classical bourbon and berry sauces.
Americans are just catching on to a dish that Europeans have frequently enjoyed at home and in restaurants.
``I think people like it because it's more exotic and out of the ordinary,'' Guilloux says.
Many in the industry predict American venison producers will have difficulty keeping up with demand. Eighty percent of the venison sold in this country is imported - mostly from New Zealand - and industry experts say even deer farmers down under may not be able to satisfy American consumers if they develop a heartier appetite for venison.
Feeding the frenzy is nutritional information showing venison is lower in fat and cholesterol than beef and other red meats, and comparable to skinless chicken in those categories.
Barbara Fox of the North America Deer Farmers recalls a 1992 Runner's World magazine story that contained just one line about the nutritional benefits of venison. ``I got 100 calls in one week from people everywhere wanting to know how and where to buy it,'' Fox says.
Perhaps even the most fanatically health-conscious are tired of eating nothing but poultry and skinny pastas. Once in a while, at least, they want to see red on the table. And if it comes in a tasty, low-fat venison steak, the only remaining question may be where to buy it.
Availability is still a big problem, along with the fact that venison costs at least twice as much as beef. Deer farmers and marketers are working on that. If they solve the problem, stand by for a stampede of converts to venison.
\ Cashing in
Although they don't expect to make a fortune, Marlene and Dick Ditore hope someday to be on the receiving end of that deer rush.
Nearly three years ago, the Ditores left the traffic, smog and crime of Santa Monica, Calif., to wrap deer fence around 40 acres of pasture and woods near Palmyra, 22 miles southeast of Charlottesville.
With a growing herd of 225, they own and operate Fallow Fields Farm. The Ditores and the seven other deer operations in the state are permitted to raise fallow deer only.
Marlene Ditore grew up in the Midwest eating hunted venison, and regularly fed her family fallow meat bought at health-food stores. She first considered deer farming as a business after reading a magazine article in 1988.
After two years of research, the Ditores settled on Virginia as a farm site because of its quality pastureland, friendly regulatory climate and the fact that Rolfe Graage had an established deer farm nearby, with breeding stock for sale.
``The way I see it, people will always eat meat,'' says 39-year-old Dick Ditore. a former lighting designer for Milton Berle and other stars. Now, he's an electrician at the North Anna Nuclear Power Plant, in addition to his daily duties on the farm.
During the season that begins in September and ends in April, Marlene Ditore drums up business on the phone from the couple's modest double-wide trailer. She makes trips in an aging Subaru to grocery stores and gourmet shops, hoping to persuade reluctant managers to stock venison in their meat cases.
But most of the 2,100 pounds of venison Ditore sold last year arrived at the loading docks of Virginia restaurants.
``The chefs have been very excited to find a fresh, local product like ours,'' she says.
Ditore sells to at least a dozen restaurants, mostly in Norfolk, Williamsburg and Charlottesville. She struck a deal with a Virginia rabbit producer to also deliver venison to her customers.
With the help of her 11-year-old daughter, Lisa, Marlene Ditore also handles most of the chores around the farm, including daily feedings and checking on tiny fawns. The deer diet consists of 20 percent corn, she says; the rest is organic grass.
``Come on, One-11!'' Ditore calls to a stately buck watching over the herd standing more than 100 yards away.
``Come on, girls; come on, little bucks!'' she yells, holding a bucket of corn.
The antlered buck named One-11 only stares; the rest of the herd leaps for cover, creating a sudden blur of chestnut, speckled and deep browns in the woods at the field's edge.
``They know that it's not their normal feeding time,'' Ditore says, ``so they're not getting any closer.''
Even at this distance, it's clear that fallow deer are smaller - about the size of a large goat - than their wild, white-tail kin.
A few minutes later, a young white buck bounds out of the barn past startled human onlookers. He dances away defiantly, but is still confined to a smaller fenced-in area, away from the herd.
A little more than a year old, the white buck is scheduled to be the final slaughter of the season at the Ditore farm.
Dick Ditore will allow the animal to calm down for a couple of days, before he kills it cleanly with a hollow-point .22 shot to the head.
``It does still bother me a little,'' Ditore admits.
After the kill, Dick and Marlene Ditore gut and hang the animal themselves, and then take it to a state-approved processor to be portioned for sale.
Although they sometimes bottle-feed the newborn fawns, the Ditores rarely name the deer, other than by tag numbers.
``Our children have been taught to see the beauty of the animal in the wild and still enjoy it at the table,'' Marlene Ditore says. ``They understand that everything has its purpose.''
\ Selling the taste
In addition to its nutritional benefits, Marlene Ditore says venison's versatility makes it a wonderful food to prepare at home.
``You can take any recipe that calls for beef, chicken or pork, and substitute venison,'' she says.
Ditore sautes venison Swiss steak, braises a venison stew with spring vegetables and simmers venison cubes with onion, horseradish and other ingredients to make daughter Lisa's favorite, Deviled Venison.
Many describe venison as having a finer texture and heartier flavor than beef. But deer producers are quick to point out that the farm-raised version is much milder than most people expect.
``One of our biggest problems,'' Ditore says, ``has been convincing people that this doesn't taste like the nasty stuff that rode home on Uncle George's hood.''
Meredith Nicolls, executive chef and food and beverage director at The Kitchen at Powhatan Plantation in Williamsburg, says the delicate flavor of the farm-raised variety sometimes amazes diners accustomed to eating hunted game.
Nicolls, who began buying meat from Marlene Ditore last year, has created venison carpaccio and more traditional dishes, such as sauteed venison medallions with a red wine-shallot sauce.
But he believes venison's growing reputation as the healthful red meat will continue to be its main selling point on the menu.
``Now the meat-and-potatoes guy can eat it and feel safe,'' Nicolls says.
Registered dietitian Gail Zyla, senior editor of the Tufts University Diet & Nutrition Letter in Boston, agrees that venison is a good beef alternative. She cautions diners, however, to be wary of rich, creamy sauces that some chefs may ladle alongside the low-fat, low-cholesterol venison.
Venison is no dietary panacea, Zyla says.
``People want to hear a simple solution like this,'' she says. ``But, instead, they should concentrate on reducing all the flesh-foods in their diet and reducing their fat intake overall.''
\ Foes press fight
Despite the positive press, not even commercial deer producers expect venison to give beef a serious run at the dinner table.
Mike Hughes of the Texas Wild Game Cooperative says venison is more accessible to consumers now, in stores or by mail order. He predicts it soon will become a popular special-occasion dish for Americans, much like lobster has.
Stubbornly standing in the path of this venison stampede is Jack Gwynn, a retired Virginia wildlife biologist and adamant deer-farm foe.
Through Gwynn's leadership, a wildlife group secured a moratorium in January on new deer-farm permits allowed in Virginia. An independent committee selected by the Department of Inland Game and Fisheries - the state agency that regulates deer farming, along with the Department of Agriculture - is scheduled to meet on the issue soon. this month.
Like others in the country who oppose commercial deer farming, Gwynn argues that fallow deer pose a serious disease and parasite threat to native deer. If the two interact, Gwynn says, they could transmit diseases such as tuberculosis.
But Gwynn also believes fallow deer are wild animals that shouldn't be fenced in. ``I don't think I could ever support something that profits from dead wildlife,'' he says.
Barbara Fox of the North American Deer Farmers counters that properly inoculated farm deer are no more likely to transmit disease than are cattle.
Deer farmers also say fallow deer have been domesticated for thousands of years, and should be considered livestock by conservationists and regulators. The U.S. Department of Agriculture does not list venison as livestock, for instance, and the Food and Drug Administration considers it an ingredient.
Fox says her group's main objective during the next few years is to change the state and federal regulations to encourage more deer farming in this country.
by CNB