Supermarkets were an unimagined dream far in the future when we were growing up in the late ’20s and early ’30s in Humboldt County, yet a family could be nearly self-sustaining with initiative and energy.

Each year, my father would bag at least two deer; usually Black Tails or Pacific Bucks in or around the local county, and sometimes he would go as far as Modoc County to obtain the Mule Tail Deer, which were much larger and meatier. From these prizes, we feasted first on the liver, which served with rashers of bacon and sauteed onions was considered a great delicacy. Then came the backstrap, which was similar to a very tender steak. Venison roasts made a festive Sunday dinner. Not to waste any part of the deer, mincemeat was made from the neck bones.

On very rare occasions, we would have a bear roast, usually given to us by some friend. This meat tasted remarkably like pork roast.

Roast duck was one of our favorite entrees. There were many and varied species of ducks flying Humboldt Bay, but the special ones to us were the Mallard Ducks, Canvas Backs and Teal. For Thanksgiving Dinner we either had ducks or a plump Canadian Goose. In the fall of the year, when the days began to get shorter, you could look up in the sky and see a gigantic “V” of Canadian Honkers flying south for the winter. If the wind were right and there was no fog, you could hear their honking and discern the leader heading the hegira to the south. It was with little effort and a great deal of enjoyment for the men of the family to provide the family with fat Canadian Geese, Brant or as many ducks as you cared to take. The meat of the geese was a dark, sweet meat, tender and tasty. Ducks, stuffed with a bread stuffing, roasted to a crackling brown on the outside and running with juices inside, was one of our special meals.

Our home soon became a haven of hospitality for visiting relatives and friends from as far away as Arizona, Oregon and Southern California, all enjoying the bounties of Humboldt County.

Salmon was one of the outstanding delights to all of us. When the salmon were running, you could stand on the banks of any of our local rivers — Klamath River, Trinity River, Eel River or even Humboldt Bay — and watch the salmon running up the river. It was similar to watching people going up escalators. Average salmon could be caught weighing 18 to 20 pounds. Men who worked on jobs near the bay would set their lines in the morning and when the work day was over, there would be a salmon hooked for their dinner. A large baked whole salmon was a feast fit for a king. The delicately pink salmon slices broiled or simmered in butter had a freshness and deliciousness long remembered.

There was another type of fish, which, when running, caused a stir of preparation. This was the surf fish, which, when spawning, came into the shallow surf and up onto the beaches of the ocean in squirming masses. They were easily scooped up in tri-cornered nets and soon sacks could be filled with these delicious small fish. The way we cooked them at home was to gut them, wash carefully, flour them and lay in large baking pans in single layers and bake until crispy brown with a delicate white meat. When the surf fish were running it was a signal for all the family and as many friends that could be recruited to head for the mouth of Redwood Creek, which is on the beach near Orick. To get to the beach, then, one had to take a toll road which led down the side of the mountain to the beach below. This was a straight up and down, narrow and winding road. A charge of twenty five cents a car was made. The road was so steep, we children would close our eyes and hang on for dear life to the inside of the car until the descent was made … and then what joys awaited us at the bottom! We would frolic in the sand, wade along the edge of the surf and find long kelp ropes to pull over the sand. After the men had completed their catch, we produced a bountiful picnic supper brought from home and everyone enjoyed good food and conversation around a campfire on the beach.

Crab was so abundant that it was no task to get as many as was needed. When we knew a group of relatives were coming, my mother would say to my brother, “I will need about twelve large crabs today.” He would ride out to the mouth of the Elk River, which was just north of Fields Landing and in the tidal pools there, which is just about where U.S. 101 runs now, it would be a simple task to use a rake, dipping into the pools and scoop out huge crabs, as many as you wanted. Then they were taken home, boiled outdoors in salt water, cooled and the meat was mouthwatering.

Also, in South Bay, in the channel just north of Fields Landing, when the tide was low, we would wade out in the black mud, with it oozing between our toes, and gather clams as large as a man’s fist known as Martha Washington Clams. These made delicious chowder with the white meat and delicate flavor. Then, this portion of Humboldt Bay was not polluted as it is today.

Another outing we enjoyed was to row across the channel of the Bay to the South Spit, where we would gather cockles, a small type of clam, wash them well in seawater and roast them in a bonfire when they were done. The shells would burst open and we would enjoy a succulent feast.

Meanwhile, the women of the household, including me, were busy picking berries. We went to the area which is now known as Valley West, just north of Arcata. It was one of our best wild blackberry patches. There is a large mill there now. We would find large, luscious, true wild blackberries. From these berries we made jam, jelly, cobblers and out-of-this-world blackberry pies. In those days, we did not have the hydrogenated, whipped cream-type shortening so popular today, but used plain lard from which my mother concocted tantalizing, tender pie crust. Chicken fat was used to make cookies.

Huckleberry season meant a jaunt over to Samoa Peninsula, near what is now known as Manila. On the ocean side, we would work our way through a labyrinth of vegetation, with bushes so high that underneath the vegetation were pathways with an arbor of growth over head. Through this maze, we would wend our way and find the most delicious and the largest, pea-sized huckleberries you could ever imagine. With their sweet, winy juiciness, they made excellent pies.

The frozen food industry was, as yet, unknown. As a consequence, everything was canned or smoked to preserve it. My mother canned venison, salmon, surf fish, mincemeat, jams, jellies, fruits, fruit sauces, vegetables and vegetable sauces. There was always a sourdough starter going, which many times boiled over just as surely as Mt. St. Helens boils her top today. From this starter came delicious high, fluffy sourdough pancakes and rolls. There was usually a pan simmering on the back of the stove into which odds and ends of milk were added. Soon it separated into curds and whey. We would pour off the whey, season the curds and have a nutritious cottage cheese.

Occasionally, we would be gifted with a quart of thick, white, sweet cream from which fat cream puffs, oozing with rich whipped cream, would result.

Acquaintances who raised bees would bring us a large square of natural beeswax honeycomb bulging witbh local clover honey. Nectar from the Gods!

On rare occasions, my Father would surprise me with the best delicacy of all — quail on toast! To see the beautiful little speckled birds with their proud top knot always reminded me of little Prussian soldiers and I could not be a party to the preparation, but with the round, white, plump breast ensconced on a piece of buttered toast, I could not resist the tempting dish.

As I stroll down the plastic aisles of today’s supermarkets and gaze upon the antiseptically packaged fast foods and products offered to us today, loaded with various and sundry additives, I marvel that we have not exploded or erupted like an atomic bomb!

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The story above was originally printed in the March-April 1981 issue of the Humboldt Historian, a journal of the Humboldt County Historical Society. It is reprinted here with permission. The Humboldt County Historical Society is a nonprofit organization devoted to archiving, preserving and sharing Humboldt County’s rich history. You can become a member and receive a year’s worth of new issues of The Humboldt Historian at this link.