Howdy.
Name’s Joe. Folks call me Ditchman. Why? ‘Cause I once grilled a possum behind a Waffle House and fell asleep in a culvert. Twice.
Ain’t proud. Ain’t ashamed either.

This here’s where I dump all the cookin’ chaos from my life.
I ain’t got no fancy kitchen. My spice rack’s a tackle box and I keep my bacon in the glovebox.
I cook where I break down. If the engine’s hot and the meat ain’t movin’, we’re in business.

Been runnin’ this vlog for a while now. Show’s called Roadkill Cookin’ – not ’cause I run things over on purpose, but… let’s just say I don’t swerve much.

What do I cook?
Whatever didn’t escape.
Raccoon ribs. Squirrel chili. Turkey that may or may not have had rabies.
You don’t like it, go back to your avocado toast.

I ain’t got a degree. I got a cast-iron pan, a busted propane tank, and taste buds forged in Coors Light and trauma.
You’ll learn somethin’. Maybe not what you meant to, but somethin’.

I don’t do edits. I don’t do reshoots.
I hit record, yell at some meat, light somethin’ on fire, and pray it don’t explode.
Sometimes I feed the cameraman. Sometimes I am the cameraman.

Anyways.
Watch the vids. Try the recipes.
Just don’t email me if your stomach quits halfway. Ain’t my fault you ate gas station gravy with a side of regret.

Let’s cook, baby.
– Joe