Recipes For The Squeamish

Go on admit it. You wondered where I was last night didn’t you. You know you did.
Well I was eating roadkill in a field. Like you do.
Hoofing it along the Offa’s Dyke road She Of The Townhouse and I chanced upon a nice plump pheasant you see. And knowing that later on we would be having a barbecue in a field…. I slammed the jalopy in to reverse and sped back being careful not to compound the fractures that the bird had suffered earlier in the day. Sniffed it carefully. Finding a light gamey tang irresistible I placed it in the footwell next to She Of The Townhouse. She gave me a look which I hope was appreciation (though I must say she did twitch a bit as well) as I turned the aircon on to frosty.
A couple of hundred miles later I skinned it, trimmed off the breasts and thighs and gave them a light grilling over the coals.
It was delicious. Though I think that next time we might just hang the crock pot over the fire with some herbs a chopped onion and some carrots. Perhaps a splash of wine. Maybe some bacon.
Oooh ….. I wonder if the bacon is ready.
Later on my niece decided to hold a Viking funeral for the bits of the carcass that wouldn’t grill well.
I swear I am the only one that is anything like normal in this family.
The writing will be a bit lightweight for a day or two as I am partying in Bristol.

The chickens were good as well.