So today I went looking for something else in the freezer and kept tossing the baggie of ground venison out of my way, could not find what I wanted, and finally decided, OK, venison, your time has come. I had a pound of pork sausage I could mix with it (venison is really, really dry, esp. when shot after a drought year) and a little leftover ground beef, and a sack of bread crumbs, plus parsley in a pot on the front porch and an onion in the basket. What more could a cook want?
Defrosting the !**! venison to take less than four hours, for one thing. (I never did get it all defrosted. A largeish lump is in the fridge.) So then I started chopping onion and parsley, mixing in the pork sausage and the beef and the bread crumbs and all and at that point realized we were out of ketchup. which I often use as the binder. Hmmm. The pork sausage was Owens "hot" so i didn't want to use Ro-tel (which I've done before and we didn't have any tomato juice or even tomato paste (yes, I know, I'm a bad storekeeper.) But look--there--a bottle of barbecue sauce. And a bottle of red wine (I cook with wine a lot; it convinces some people I know what I'm doing. Nobody who saw that poor duck would think so, though.)
Then it was "brown the meatballs" time. There were a lot of meatballs. Dozens of meatballs. Several-many dozens of meatballs and they weren't teeny tiny meatballs, either. I stood there making meatballs and browning meatballs and tossing the first ones in the Dutch oven with some pasta sauce to start heating up for supper and it got later...and later...and later...and finally I put the last of the meat/bread crumb/onion/parsley/etc. mix in a casserole and called it a baby meatloaf. There's a big breadpan full of meatballs, which are going into a freezer bag and into the freezer for future needs.
The meatballs in sauce just got done. I have a ton of dishes to wash. I need to get up at six to leave at seven to go to church and sing two services...and I could lie down and go to sleep right here by the computer (but staring at piles of dirty dishes on Sunday morning is just not acceptable, unless I'm sick.