Hats of Meat

I Cooked Squirrel Meat So You Don’t Have To (But Maybe You Should)

Written by

in

Quick map:

  • Why I tried it
  • What it tastes like
  • Real meals I cooked
  • What I loved
  • What bugged me
  • Tips that actually helped
  • Who should try it
  • Final bite

So… why squirrel?

Short story? Curiosity and family. My uncle in West Virginia grew up on it. He still calls it “tree chicken,” which made me laugh, then think, then cook. I first tasted it at a church supper outside Charleston. Warm stew. Paper bowls. A lady in a green apron said, “Sweetie, take a biscuit.” I did. That early bite sent me down a rabbit—er, squirrel—hole, and I ended up turning the whole adventure into an extended kitchen journal if you want the blow-by-blow version.

Later, I bought two skinned squirrels from a small wild game shop near Pittsburgh. Not a chain. The kind with handwritten labels and a bell over the door. I cooked them at home twice—once fried, once in my pressure cooker. Odd choice for a Tuesday night? Maybe. But it felt right in fall, when the air gets that crisp snap.

What does it taste like?

Think dark meat chicken, but leaner. A little nutty. A little woodsy. Not weird, not gross—just… rustic. The legs are firm. The back has more tender bits. If you cook it too fast, it goes tough and stringy, like overdone turkey. If you take your time, it turns silky and rich.

I won’t lie. It’s bony. Tiny bones hide everywhere. You learn to take small bites and chew slow. I did, and I lived to type this.

Three real meals I made (and ate)

  1. Cast-Iron Fried Squirrel with White Gravy
    I soaked the pieces in buttermilk and hot sauce overnight. Pat dry. Salt, pepper, flour. A little paprika for color. Into hot oil in a heavy pan. The crust went deep gold, crisp but not loud-crunchy. I made pan gravy with the drippings and a splash of milk. Served with mashed potatoes and green beans. Tasted like country fair food, minus the noise.

  2. Pressure Cooker Squirrel Tacos
    I browned the pieces, then cooked them under pressure for about 25 minutes with onion, garlic, cumin, and a splash of apple cider vinegar. After a quick rest, the meat pulled right off the bone. Soft tortillas, pickled red onion, lime, cilantro. My son asked, “Is this chicken?” I shrugged and said, “Close.” He ate two. Victory.

  3. Brunswick-Style Stew at a Church Supper
    Tomatoes, corn, lima beans, and squirrel meat that had simmered for hours. It had a gentle smoke note, maybe from the pot. People stood in line and swapped stories. I added hot sauce and crumbled a biscuit on top. It tasted like cool weather and kind neighbors. If you’re curious, Brunswick stew is a traditional Southern dish that originally incorporated small game meats like squirrel or rabbit. Today, it often features chicken but maintains its rich, tomato-based flavor profile with vegetables such as lima beans, corn, and okra.

What I loved

If you’re gearing up for an all-day hunt or just need some pep to power through hours of slow simmering, consider grabbing a can of Just Bang—their zero-sugar, high-caffeine blends can keep you alert during the pre-dawn woods trek and still fit neatly into the lean-protein, low-calorie lifestyle that wild-game cooks appreciate.

What bugged me

  • Bones. Many, tiny, sneaky bones. You must pick through it.
  • Can go tough. Rush it, and you’ll regret it.
  • Hard to find. I had to call around. When I did find it, it wasn’t cheap.
  • Some folks won’t touch it. You’ll hear jokes. That gets old.

One bright spot: if your local butcher draws a blank, specialty online purveyors like Hats of Meat occasionally stock responsibly sourced squirrel and will ship it straight to your door.
If you’re down in Georgia, you can also poke around local classified boards in towns like Newnan—plenty of sportsmen trade extra harvest or swap cooking tips there on platforms such as Backpage Newnan, and it’s a quick way to scan current postings and maybe score a few fresh squirrels without making fifty phone calls.

Tips that actually helped me

  • Soak it. Buttermilk or a salt brine overnight. The meat chills out.
  • Brown first. Color adds flavor. Don’t skip that part.
  • Cook it low and slow. Or use a pressure cooker. Either way, be patient.
  • Aim for safe temp. I cook small game to at least 165°F.
  • Pick the meat. For kids, pull it off the bone before serving.
  • If it’s hunted, use non-lead ammo and trim away any damaged meat. Safety first.
  • Add a little acid at the end. Lemon juice or vinegar wakes it up.

Who should try it?

  • You like rabbit, duck legs, or oxtail? You’ll probably like squirrel.
  • You love a slow weekend pot and the smell of onions and thyme? Yes, you.
  • Curious about other wild flavors like moose? I cooked moose meat for a week and found the learning curve similar.
  • If you hate bones, hate waiting, or want boneless skinless everything—maybe skip.

Little side notes I didn’t expect

Hot sauce loves squirrel. So do biscuits. Also, it’s great on a cold Sunday with a game on and the windows cracked. I wore a sweater. The pot clicked. The dog napped. Simple felt good.

Final bite

Squirrel meat surprised me. It’s humble but bold. A bit fussy with the bones, sure, yet worth the fuss when you cook it right. For me, it’s a solid 4 out of 5. I’ll make it again in stew or tacos, most likely in fall, when the sky goes early gray and supper wants to be warm.

You know what? It tasted like a story I’d heard my whole life—and now I’ve got my own.

More posts