Nothing is quite so driven by hope as the act of gathering food from the wild. Anyone who has ever hunted, fished or foraged knows the feeling that the bonanza could come at any moment.

When the weather is balmy and the ducks aren’t flying, head to the bogs and look for the mystical snipe.

Hunting season brings with it a flood of emotions. Elation when you succeed, frustration when you do not, and always a deep contemplation about what it means to kill for food.

Never before have I hunted so long and so hard for so little. If there is a game bird more elusive than the Hungarian partridge in Montana, I’ve yet to meet it.

I can see light at the end of the tunnel. My book tour is nearly over, and I’m feeling good about the last week of events. So I was in a fine state of mind for a woodcock hunt in Michigan last week.

I hunted grouse in Minnesota last weekend, but did not shoot one. That’s OK, because what I really needed in the Northwoods was quiet – and to escape the world within the comforts of cooking.

Some days you remember forever. Last week I spent a couple days with a boatful of new friends, 40 miles offshore in search of tuna. We found them. Oh yes, people, we found them…

I spent Labor Day weekend in perhaps the best place in America to hunt doves: South Texas. I’ve never seen dove hunting like it, but I hope to see it again next year. Absolutely epic. To celebrate the hunt, I created a perfect grilling sauce to go with these birds.

It’s summertime, and the fishing is easy. After an epic shark fishing trip in San Francisco Bay, I decided to celebrate summer with a classic Calabrian dish that uses lots of fresh tomatoes.