Foul birds and fair game
I woke up with a very sore head on Monday morning after our Sunday afternoon celebrations. We weren’t actually celebrating anything at all, just prolonging the weekend and warding off the Sunday evening
blues. Several gin & tonics – with Bombay Saphire brought back from duty free at Milan airport - and a bottle of wine accompanied the roasted Guinea Fowl – not a good idea as I was starting a new job on Monday teaching a Japanese business man. I recall smoking a sheesha later on in the evening – with the pipe which I brought back from Dubai – and watching an episode of the A-Team. The only thing I recall is BA Baracus calling Murdock a fool several times and an exploding Chinese restaurant. We both woke up on the settee in the early hours and went to bed. In The morning I woke up feeling so hungover that a visit from the grim reaper would have been more than welcome. I saw a pile of clothes on the floor, unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth and contemplated not going to work. I brushed my teeth and immediately puked several times – something which I haven’t done since my teens. Who said rock and roll’s dead?
The Guinea Fowl was delicious - I used a River Café recipe using vermouth, milk and a large lemon inserted into the parson’s nose. This delicious bird only cost 2.99 which makes me wonder why people prefer to eat tasteless supermarket chickens injected with water. When I was growing up the Sunday roast was usually a pheasant shot by my Grandad which I've mentioned in a previous post. I've got such happy memories of going out with him, flat cap and rifle over his shoulder, patrolling the grounds for a glimse of the beautifully coloured birds. He would also shoot rabbits through the letterbox (far more humane than transporting them in cramped conditions to the abbatoir - I hasten to add before the animal rights people get on their high horse). This all happened at Rangemoor Hall, a grade II listed stately home just outside Burton-on-Trent where my Grandad was once the caretaker - Robbie Williams has apparently put in a bid for a wing which has been converted into luxury apartments selling at a cool 1.5 million.
Back on the subject of meat, at Christmas we had goose which was delicious - the remains looked like something out of a horror film - and much nicer than a dry old Turkey which most people seem to eat only once a year. Another one of my favourite dishes is my Dad’s venison stew – he soaks the venison overnight in a bottle of red wine making the meat so tender it melts in your mouth. People really should experiment a bit more with meat. I’ve decided I want to sabotage most supermarket chickens in favour of free range, corn fed or Marks & Spencers Oakham free range chicken from the fine county of Leicestershire where I was born. Let’s see just how long it lasts……