Week plans

a whole side of salmon is the week's centerpiece, not every plate. Cook the fresh cuts in the first two days, freeze the collar & belly for Friday, and cure a little for the weekend board — then weave garden and pizza nights between, so nothing's held too long and no night repeats.

a bag of shrimp is the centerpiece, and the shells are the secret — peel once, freeze half for later in the week, and simmer the shells into a stock for bisque. Garden and pizza nights fill the gaps, and it closes on the family shrimp dip.

one whole bird is the centerpiece and the book's most-used throughline. Roast it Sunday; its carcass becomes stock, its meat feeds three days, and one shredded portion goes to the freezer for later. Garden and pizza nights weave the rest.

a pork shoulder plus a few chops is the centerpiece. The chops sear fresh, the shoulder pulls into three days of dinners, and a tub or two goes to the freezer for later. A richer week, so it sits opposite a lean one — with garden and pizza nights woven in.

one deer is the centerpiece — and since game lives in the freezer anyway, you pull a cut at a time. Backstrap seared fresh, ground into a chili, cubes braised, trim into a ragù. Lean, dark, free from the land, with garden and pizza nights between.

a goose is the centerpiece, cooked in two speeds — breasts seared fast and rare, legs braised long and low. Pulled from the freezer a cut at a time, with the carcass into a stock and garden nights between. Dark, rich, and cooked the way it wants to be.

duck gives three gifts — breast seared rare under crackling skin, legs confited slow in their own fat, and the rendered fat itself. And because confit is a preservation, it keeps a week-plus in its fat, which is what carries the back half. Garden and pizza nights fill the rest.

small game, cooked the old way, is the centerpiece. The young and tender fry like chicken; the rest goes into a big Brunswick stew that's better frozen-and-thawed than held a week. Bones make the stock for dumplings, with garden and pizza nights between.

a whole ribeye is the centerpiece and you're the butcher — steaks off the front, a roast off the back, the trim ground, the bones for stock. The richest week, so it sits opposite Salmon or Vegetarian; garden and pizza nights and a barley soup lighten it.

one big beef roast is the centerpiece of a comfort week. Its drippings become Yorkshire and gravy, its extra mash becomes spaetzl, and a frozen portion carries Friday. The Sunday dinner gives for days — with a garden night, pizza, and a fresh Saturday brisket woven in.

one big veal-and-breadcrumb batch is the centerpiece — and because you freeze most of it raw, shelf life is built in: thaw a bag the night before each meatball night. Bavarian, Spanish, Swedish, subs, sliders — plus a garden night and pizza between.

a few pounds of good grind is the centerpiece — and since ground beef keeps only a day or two fresh, you freeze what you won't cook by Tuesday. Patties, tacos, meatloaf, a smash bar — with a garden night and pizza woven between. The most indulgent week, so it sits opposite a lean one.

the reset week — no center-of-plate meat, just the garden and the mushrooms threading through everything. The lightest week in the book by design, the one that sits opposite Ribeye or Burger and pulls the whole month's numbers back down.

a real haul — lamb shanks, a stack of chicken thighs, and a crate of daikon, carrots, leeks, bok choy, and garden peppers & tomatoes — cooked forward Mediterranean-style. One long lamb braise pays out three times, a couple of make-ahead brights carry the week, and the chicken gets split and frozen so nothing spoils.

the kitchen where nothing gets cooked once. This week is built backward from lunch — every dinner deliberately makes extra, and the leftovers become the next day's sandwich on the Bread of the Week. It opens with the dish David asks for — chicken in a white-wine-and-caper sauce over thick noodles — and the Eggplant Rollatini baked ahead so tomorrow's lunch is already done. A roast chicken midweek is the sammie engine, its carcass becomes soup, and Carrot Cake lands one night for dessert.

no shopping trip — just what the freezer and the kitchen handed over. Venison in every cut (tender backstrap, stew meat, steaks, a roast), a bag of shrimp for a surf-and-turf, fresh beef stock, three kinds of mushroom (shiitake, oyster, lion's mane), and the fall haul — fennel, brussels, butternut, apples, potatoes, celery, shallots, onions, garlic, ginger, figs, bok choy. The lesson of the week is that the cut decides the method: lean, tender cuts get a fast hard sear; tough cuts get a long braise; nothing in between. Five dinners, five different treatments, built from one pile.

a harvested deer isn't "venison," it's a dozen different cuts that each want a different treatment — and getting that right is the whole game with lean game. The rule that runs through all of it: tender cuts fast and rare, tough cuts low and slow, and nothing in between. This is the cut-by-cut map — what each piece is, how to cook it, the recipe to use, and a side that fits. Butcher it into these piles at the freezer and you'll always know what tonight's bag is for.

a whole chicken is the cheapest, most flexible way to eat chicken. One bird breaks into two breasts, two thighs, two drumsticks, two wings, the back & carcass for stock, and the giblets — four or five meals instead of paying double for a tray of parts. The rule: white meat (breast) cooks fast to just-done; dark meat (thigh, leg) is forgiving and loves a hard roast or a braise; the frame is gold. Buy parts only when a recipe wants all one cut (a tray of thighs) and you don't feel like breaking down a bird.

a whole turkey is the best bulk-poultry buy of the year. One bird gives a breast that feeds a crowd, two big legs that braise or confit beautifully, wings, a carcass that makes gallons of the year's best stock, and pounds of meat to freeze. Dark and white cook at different speeds — spatchcock, or cook the legs apart from the breast, so neither dries out. Buy a breast roast or a pack of legs only when you don't want the whole bird.

a goose — wild or a holiday bird — is almost all dark meat wrapped in a layer of the finest cooking fat going. The breast eats like a lean steak (rare, sliced thin); the legs are tough and want a long confit or braise; and you render pounds of goose fat for the crispest potatoes of your life. Nothing about a goose cooks like a chicken. Wild birds are leaner and gamier — rest well and slice thin.

a whole or half pig is the classic homestead buy — the most versatile animal there is. It breaks into the primals: shoulder (low & slow / pulled), loin (chops & roasts, cook gentle), belly (bacon & braise), ham (fresh roast or cure), hocks & trotters (braise / stock), ribs, fat (lard), and all the trim for sausage. Fresh pork is leaner than it used to be — don't cook the lean cuts past 145°F. Buy a single primal when that's all you need.

a quarter, half, or whole cow is the biggest freezer buy a household makes — and the one where knowing the cuts saves the most money. It sorts into tender middle-meats (ribeye, strip, tenderloin, sirloin — fast & hot), the big roasts (chuck braises, round reverse-sears), the low-&-slow cuts (brisket, short rib), tons of ground, soup bones, and the odd cuts (shank, oxtail) that make the richest braises. Tell the butcher how you want it cut before they process it — that's where the value is.

a week of our favorites picked for Dad — everything mild, no alcohol, easy on the salt, and any wild game swapped for what's at the store. The centerpiece is the one he'll remember: Kelly's venison & fig, with a beef tenderloin standing in. And because half of why these are worth cooking is who they came from, each night is credited to its person — Marm, David, Kelly, Terri, Aunt Joan, Jordan. (Every recipe in this book now carries a low-salt note and an alcohol swap, so any of them is safe for his table.)

built from what's on hand — chicken and shrimp carry two nights each, goose and venison anchor one apiece, and Friday's a light soup-and-sandwich breather. The starches rotate (rice, mei fun, egg noodles, bread) so nothing repeats, and every vegetable in the crisper lands somewhere.