pheasant@well.hung.ca

In Food: An Oxford Anthology editor Brigid Allen has collected a number of exquisite passages of which the following is an excerpt by Jean Rennie who worked at a time when it was "[t]he belief that game should be well hung to the point of rottenness" which Allen indicates "is no longer the article of faith that it was before the days of universal refrigeration."

Certainly I had seen maggots before, had even enjoyed throwing them on the hot stove and watching them wiggle before they were swept into the flames.

But this teeming, crawly heap of obscene life was something I'd never seen before, or since.

[...]

He [the chef] raised his eyebrows and his eyes twinkled.

He picked up his sharp little knife and rubbed it on the steel which he wore at his side from his belt, as he walked in front of me to the scullery where the horrible things lay.

[...]

With about two slashes on each bird, he cut away the breasts, cleanly and decisively.

"There," he said, as he threw the bodies on my paper, "put them out — I've got all I want," and away he went, with the four little pheasant breasts in his hand.