Pairing Pheasant Soup & Blue Moon (non-alcoholic)

Eatin’ and Drinkin’ w/ Lizzie

Alright, so here I am in eastern South Dakota, smack in the middle of that weird “Is it winter or is it spring?” phase. One day it’s sunny and 60, and the next day I’m out there shoveling a foot of heavy, wet snow—gotta love that bipolar weather. But let me tell you, after half an hour wrestling with the snow shovel, I was more than ready for a bowl of soup and a nice, light beer.

Now, this soup is something special. I used pheasant legs—yeah, the legs, with all those little tendons you’d expect from a bird that likes to run more than it flies. I love it, though. You really gotta work for that meat, and you don’t get a ton of it, but every drop of flavor it brings to the broth is pure gold. I also tossed in some chicken bouillon, potatoes, parsnip, and fennel—like, the fennel fronds, too, for garnish and flavor, giving it that subtle black licorice vibe. Not too strong, just enough to make you go, “Huh, that’s interesting,” when you take a bite.

For color and a bit of a kick, I threw in sweet and spicy peppers. They’re bright red and green, which is perfect because there’s just something about a soup that looks as good as it tastes. I also had some buttered toast on the side, mostly to reset my palate whenever those peppers got a little too big and bold.

As for the beer, I paired this soup with a Blue Moon (na). Now, I know Blue Moon isn’t the most adventurous pick, but listen—it’s got this light, citrusy orange thing going on, almost like a creamsicle vibe, and it’s so smooth and easy to drink. It really complements the sweet and spicy peppers while contrasting with that savory, salty broth. Take a sip, take a bite, repeat, and you’re golden. If you need a minute to cool the taste buds down, that’s where the toast steps in as a palate cleanser.

I gotta say, pheasant itself is such a superfood. It’s high in protein, low in fat, and if you’re lucky enough to have a friend who gifts you a bird they hunted, it’s worth the effort of cleaning, checking for the occasional pellet, and dealing with those sinewy legs. Just be careful when you chew—there’s nothing like a surprise piece of birdshot to ruin a meal (and your teeth).

Now, once I stripped all that lovely meat off the bones, I tossed the bones and tendons into a critter trap we set up. We’ve been trying to keep out skunks, raccoons, or whatever else might wander in. Except, in a twist of fate, the pheasant bones also attracted coyotes, which, let me tell you, is not exactly what I was going for. Coyotes are a whole other story—scarier than a skunk, and you definitely don’t want to face them in the yard at night. So, word to the wise: if you’re tossing your bones out, maybe don’t do it in a place that’ll bring all the predators to your yard. Unless you’re into that, I guess.

But that’s life out here—part of living off the land, using everything you’ve got, and dealing with Mother Nature in all her forms. Sure, it can be messy, but it’s also beautiful. You appreciate each ingredient, each bite, and each moment you get to just sit quietly, sip your beer, and watch the snowfall—or watch the sun shine, depending on the hour. Cheers to that, and cheers to a good bowl of pheasant soup with a citrusy brew on the side. Just remember to thank your hunting buddy, and always double-check for stray pellets. Happy eating!