Spicy pheasant

Little warning to start - underneath this blog post there is a pretty detailed and graphic description of how these birds were prepped, so if you don't like that kind of thing, don't scroll further than the end of this post.


Andy returned from work with these, courtesy of a friendly beater. Unfortunately, not everyone who takes part in organized shoots wants to take their kill home, even though it costs them for each one shot. So these didn't entirely die in vain, and we can't afford to turn down free food. Besides which, I think I can modestly say I have invented the pheasant casserole to end all pheasant casseroles. It really needs starting the night before eating. Our birds hung in the cold, stone outhouse for about ten days, and were still in excellent condition, if a little gamey. When Andy had done the business of chopping the birds up, I was left with the business parts...




Once they were trimmed, washed and checked for stray pellets, I popped them in a Tupperware box and added - a generous slug of Worcestershire Sauce, about a tablespoon of dried herbs, two crushed cloves of garlic, a big squish of tomato puree and another good slug of soy sauce. Then I put the lid on tightly, and gave it a vigorous shaking until the parts were all covered. It was left to marinade for at least three hours.





Then they went into the crock of my faithful slow cooker, along with a tin of chopped plum tomatoes and a tin of haricot beans + the liquor (I would have preferred borlottie or chick peas, but we had run out. You need a good, meaty bean). I also added a tablespoon of brown sugar (molasses would be even better, but I only had soft Demerara) and a bay leaf. The cooker was turned on at LOW at 11pm when we went to bed, and left overnight, until 9, when I went for my walk. It was turned on again at about 12 noon - and at five it was nice and tender (pheasant can be a tough old bird, which is why I leave it in for so long). I chopped the breasts and stripped the legs, trying to remove as many bones as possible. You could also just leave the parts whole as they are, and serve them like that. I left it all for a further hour, before we ate. It was, if I might say so, pretty darned good. What you are left with is a rich, sticky casserole, with deep, sweet flavours - just the thing for a cold winter's day. Soy sauce makes an excellent condiment with this, and a whole grain bread would be the perfect companion. If your birds were shot, do look out for undetected pellets.





And there was enough left over for leftover lunch today.

Recipe for Spicy Pheasant
(adaptable) halve amounts if only one bird
A brace of pheasant, using the legs and breasts
One tin of chopped tomatoes
One tin of hearty beans/pulses - borlotti, chickpeas, haricot

Marinade
About 3-4 tablespoons Worcestershire Sauce
2-3 big tablespoons of mature chutney (I used my own two year old plum)
1 tablespoon dried mixed herbs
About 3-4 tablespoons Tomato Puree
About 3-4 tablespoons Soy Sauce

Later additions
One large bay leaf
Tablespoon soft brown sugar or molasses sugar

Shake bird parts in the marinade, in a tightly lidded box or sealed bag. Leave to souse for at least 3 hours. Put into slow cooker with your choice of beans, the tomatoes, bay leaf and sugar. Cook on lowest setting for at least ten hours, depending on your cooker. You want the meat falling off the bone. I did mine for fifteen (ish) hours.

See also -
Basic pheasant stew
Sticky pheasant

Underneath this nice recipe is a step by step guide to prepping birds quickly, it contains graphic pictures of the bird being cut up, so you have been warned.

Quick prep pheasant

WARNING - contains GRAPHIC pictures and descriptions of birds being cut up, which you may not like if you are squeamish about these things. It is dedicated to all the people who arrive at this blog looking advice on how to prepare a pheasant - it is unbelieveable how many of you there are!


Every so often in the season we get given a brace of these. Or sometimes we happen upon a not-too-squished roadkill bird. When we first started out with pheasant which did not come handily prepared, we plucked and gutted them (a joyless task). But actually, the best bits are the breasts and legs - the rest is quite scrawny and barely worth saving. This fine pair were hanging for about ten days in our cold stone shed, and smelled quite gamey, though they were in good condition. (Don't be put off by the smell, it's deceptively honky). So this is a quick, easy, clean way of butchering your bird - use as sharp a knife as you can get, and be careful with it. First get a black bin liner to work in, else the feathers get everywhere. Lay the bird on its back, and pluck the chest feathers off to expose the skin.




The skin is like a little jacket which holds everything in - what you need to do is gently make a shallow incision from the base of the throat down to the bottom, taking care not to dig into the flesh - you are only cutting the skin, so that you can peel it back. It will come away quite easily. Avoid opening up the crop (which often has the remains of the last meal inside) situated like a little sac near the base of the neck.




When you have exposed the breasts, it will look more familar, like your Sunday roast. All you need do now is cut each one away from the bone.




Then move on to the legs, taking care not to piece any innards.





It takes about 15 minutes to do both birds, and if you have done it in a sack, you can tidy up easily. You are left with a good selection of bits, which just need trimming.





Remove excess feathers, and if you like, singe the fine bits off over a tea light. Wash it all under a cold tap and then use as required. See also -

Basic pheasant stew
Sticky pheasant
Spicy pheasant (this is a great one)

Pheasant stew from scratch

The countryside resonates with the whirring wings and squawks of panicked pheasants, released into the surrounding country estate in time for the shooting season. Unpenned and unused to their relative freedom, they have no road sense at first, and many lie at the sides of roads, squashed, with a few sad tail feathers pointing to the sky. But not this one...this was still warm and in one piece. Almost perfect. So in keeping with my aims to source our meat locally (and you don't get more local than a mile down the road) I popped it in in my bike basket and covered it with my fleece. Waste not, want not. Although it is quite legal to pick them up when they have been hit by a vehicle, (unless you were driving it, in which case it is illegal to bag your victim) there are usually gamekeepers and estate workers going up and down the lanes. Best not to invite argument.

I hung the bird in the backyard, until some rustlings betrayed fat Clover, seen waddling down the garden path in hasty retreat with a long feather sticking from the side of her jaws. Into the kitchen it came...but how long to hang it for, in this unseasonably warm weather?

After much Googling, I rang a friend. We discussed 'ways with roadkill' until I had decided to prepare it after only one days hanging. Although the internet threw up some basics of plucking and drawing, I couldn't find a really detailed description. So I turned to Hugh, as he's known in our house. He is the chap who knows everything meatwise and 'The River Cottage Meat Book' gave me just what I wanted - step by step instructions clear enough for a novice pheasant plucker.
Day two and there was a bit of a pong in our tiny kitchen. I got a black bin liner, changed into a tee-shirt, put an audio book on the cassette player and began. Holding the legs firmly, I plucked small fingerfuls of neck feathers, working my way up the bird. The skin was quite thin and despite my gentleness, it tore in places. Round the wings was a bit tricky, and by the time I got to the business end I discovered the source of the strange aroma filtering through The Hovel. Holding my breath, I defeathered the rest of the bird, including the slimey bit at its bottom, and transported it to the kitchen to draw - or gut - it. By now I was feeling a bit wobbly, having never been quite so intimate with a prospective meal. Chopping the extremities off was ok, though I missed the crop and had to manually clean it out. I can only decribe the final gutting as - an experience. I tried to get round the inevitable by spooning the cavity out, but in the end, Hugh was right again, and I plunged my hand inside to get the final bits of glop out. It reeked. Really. Sickeningly. It was worse than dead badger. I rinsed the inside out, plucked out any remaining quills and put the kettle on. The whole process had taken about an hour and twenty minutes. Time for a cup of tea.

It was very small. Casserole seemed the best option. I rubbed it inside and out with cinnamon and chutney, and added about ten crushed juniper berries. It marinaded for 24 hours in the fridge. Then it went into the slow cooker on 'high' for a morning, with a couple of pints of water By now my nose was highly sensitive to any noisome odour and I could still detect a faint whiff of inner pheasant. I removed the meat from the main body and discarded the carcass, as gutty remnants still clung to the bones. Leaving the wings and legs to stew some more, I added two fat cloves of garlic, a tablespoon of dried mixed herbs, a handful of pumpkin seeds, two handfuls of unsalted cashew nuts, a slug of sweet chilli sauce, ditto of brown (HP) sauce, a beef stock cube, gravy granules to thicken, and a couple of bay leaves. Then I sauteed a small aubergine in sesame oil and a red onion in balsamic vinegar, which also went into the pot. Left all afternoon on a low setting, it gently simmered as I got on with making a bread dough. Instead of using sugar or honey in my warm water mix, I used black treacle, which gives the bread a rich, sweetish taste. As usual, I used flour from the mill down the road, FWP Matthews. When the loaf was baked, it was brushed with olive oil, giving it a softer crust. The final step was to remove the last few bones from the casserole, before serving.

It was, if I say so myself, a rather good supper. Even Clover got a small helping. Though by the cross look on her face, I think she would have preferred the whole bird, in its original state.