Game Cooking [antikvár]

Foreword It has long been a mystery to me why game has been treated with so much reverence for so many years in the British Isles, and in England particularly. It is almost as if the shooting of birds, and to a lesser extent other wild animals, was connected with a strange and unexplained religion. Even to see a photograph of a party setting out on the 'Glorious Twelfth' for grouse shooting, leaves me wondering whether it could not be mistaken for a pilgrimage to a mountain retreat. And this ritual behaviour does not stop on the moors: it is carried into the kitchens of the people who take part in this cult. By this I mean that all young game, irrespective of its condition, is usually roast, and old game is casseroled. Bread sauce, redcurrant jelly, game chips and fried breadcrumbs adorn these magical creatures, mouths are wiped discreetly with linen napkins, and the shooting season is solemnly discussed. This reverence, too, only concerns a few chosen birds and animals, although there are many others native to our islands which are thoroughly enjoyed in nearby coimtries. Although I may have exaggerated sHghtly, this is mostly true. This was not always so, as even in the last century game was eaten in many more ways, by all classes of society in the British Isles. But alas, the chosen few have now a snob quality, which raises their price beyond the average pocket. This cannot be explained away by saying that there is less game, because I do not really believe that the organized shooting parties of today do, in fact, add up to more people than those who shot in the old II