I’m so hungry right now I’m eating my fingers. Chowing down on that particular appetizer reminded me of M.F.K. Fisher’s essay, How To Cook a Wolf, about surviving both wartime and the horrible rations that come with it.
We’re at war right now. Maybe that explains the eating of the fingers.
Anyway, the woman loved the heck out of eating pigeons. And even as a vegetarian, I can’t blame her. It seems like a great idea. There are a million of them in Chicago and a lot of hungry people.
Why, with a few shots from the BB gun and a mess of butter, we all could be dining on roast pigeon a la Logan Square. Here is Fisher’s recipe, note the pigeon is referred to as a “her.” Hmmm.. (Also, if you’re all out of BB gun, feel free to substitute your cold murderous hands)
2 slices fat bacon (or 2 tablespoons butter or oil)
red wine (or cider, beer, orange juice, tomato juice, stock…) about a cupful
Melt the fat [if bacon is used, cook it until crisp, and then remove it until time to serve it alongside, over, or even under the little bird.] See that the bird is well plucked, and rub her thoroughly with a cut lemon and the seasoning. Push the parsley into the belly. Braise well in the hot fat.
Add the liquid, put on the lid quickly, and cook slowly for about 20 minutes, basting two or three times. If you are going to eat the bird cold, put into a covered dish so that it will not dry out. [And if hot, make a pretty slice of toast for each bird, butter it well (or spread it with a bit of good pâté de foies for Party!), and place the bird upon it. Swirl about one cup of dry good wine and 2 tablespoons butter in the pan, for 4 birds, and spoon this over each one immediately, and serve.]
My favorite part of all that is: make a pretty slice of toast for each bird, butter it well…and place the bird upon it.
Like little coffins for a pigeon funeral. Why play with your food when you can give it last rites instead?