Working as a news reporter in Michigan, I had my fill of venison.  From Chef Hermann’s European Cafe in Cadillac, Mich. (morning show cooking segment during deer season) to the friendly Mecosta County deer processor who packaged venison jerky for troops over seas to the buck pole I attended in Gaylord, Mich (firearm opener)… I tasted venison in many forms (chili, tenderloin, sausage) and it was decidedly nasty.  I just couldn’t stand that gamey flavor.  Ick.  Nothing against those who prepared it.  Just my own preference.  And  I know I’m not alone.

So when my dad’s friend, Frank, brought in a quarter of a deer this week after his weekend hunting expedition — I feared I would be skipping the afternoon employee/family meal for days to come.

The secret to non-gamey venison: ginger. And a proper shot, too, apparently.

We got to talking about my disdain for venison.  According to Frank, the way the deer is taken as well as handled and trimmed has a lot to do with the resulting taste of the meat.  But so does the preparation.  My dad says “gwai lo” don’t know how to properly cook deer.  No offense to my many “gwai lo” readers — those who relish the fruits of their annual hunts.  But he might be on to something.

So what’s the secret?  Well… ginger.  The venison must be prepared with ginger.  Monday we ate ours sauteed with peppers, onions and tons of ginger.  Tuesday, we had a venison stew with Chinese bean curds and black mushrooms — yes, seasoned with ginger.

I’m a believer.  There can be non-gamey venison.

Tin Tat Kwan in the kitchen of Kwan's Chinese Cuisine in the summer of 1982.

Today, I rediscovered this fun photo of my dad and scanned it so I could share it with my blog readers and on the “About Us” page of redmoonchinesecafe.com.  What I like about it is the smile, the optimism that shines through.  My dad is 27-years-old in the photo.  I am 27 right now.  Twenty-seven years prior to that photo being taken, dad was born in a fishing and rice-cultivating village in southern China where things would only go downhill as he grew under Communism’s grip.  Twenty-seven years after the photo brings us to today… when I couldn’t imagine having the courage to open up my own little restaurant — and the wherewithal to keep it running day after day.  My mom and dad are great successes because they made it work.  That’s pretty cool.

Tonight, I got a neat little story about our first restaurant, Kwan’s Chinese Cuisine (54th and Penn Ave. S., Minneapolis), because the person who took that photo was in the restaurant tonight.  My dad’s good, good friend, Warren and his wife Andrea are in every Saturday.  Warren was one of my dad’s first customers and pretty much instantly became a good friend.

How good a friend?  Well, shortly after my mom and dad opened their little chop suey joint (and Kwan’s really was a chop suey joint — with five booths, five tables and a ‘chow mein to take home’ neon sign in the window), the friendly Minneapolis health inspector came by to tell them their place was a dump.  And what did they know?  They just plunked money down to buy it!  It had to look perfect to them!  Turns out, they had ten thousand dollars in work that needed to be done… new tile floor, wall issues that needed to meet code, etc.  So what did they do?  Not much.  But Warren and his friend John came to the rescue.  They fixed the place up — working around my dad, who I believe refused to close for the two days they asked so they could get the job done.

Tin Tat, Warren and Andrea at Red Moon in 2009. A lot has changed. Thankfully, many things have not.

So much can change in 27 years.  But I’m glad some things do not, like great friendships with people like Warren.  There are a number of instances I do not know what my dad would have done without Warren’s friendship, compassion and advice.  For that, I’ll always be grateful.

A reward for smoking cessation. If everyone got this, there wouldn't be a smoker left in the world.

I’ve mentioned in this space already that my dad has a way of making friends — his ability to do it so easily is rivaled by few others.

Just under a year ago my dad quit smoking — and has remained clean every since.  I never thought it would happen.  Ever.  After four decades puffing away, it seemed impossible.  But somehow, it happened.

Tuesday, friend Bill Clarke fulfilled a promise he made in passing, I imagine, months ago — lobsters for dinner if dad could pull it off.

Bill brought them in at lunch and came back to enjoy them with us at dinner.  You are looking at Lobster Cantonese — probably one of the richest ways to eat a lobster.  The crustaceans are chopped up and flash fried.  Then they are tossed into a thick stir fry of ground pork and onions in a black bean garlic sauce.  At the last minute, egg is folded into the mix.  My dad says it’s the perfect way to “stretch” the lobster — surely an old Cantonese trick.  He told Bill, “I bet after you eat this, you’ll never go to an American restaurant to have lobster again.”

Tin Tat Kwan and Bille Clarke enjoying lobsters at Red Moon.

Get into a conversation with my dad, and you’ll be treated to a dose of hyperbole.  Dad continued, “Now every time you eat lobster for 20 years, you will think of mine.”

He called it “licking finger good.”

Indeed.  Thanks Bill, what a treat!  And how nice of you to reward my dad for something many of us believed would never happen.  Maybe it was the enticement of lobsters, after all.