I can see light at the end of the tunnel. My book tour is nearly over, and I’m feeling good about the last week of events. So I was in a fine state of mind for a woodcock hunt in Michigan last week.
Pheasant, Grouse, Quail
I hunted grouse in Minnesota last weekend, but did not shoot one. That’s OK, because what I really needed in the Northwoods was quiet – and to escape the world within the comforts of cooking.
Chicken or veal piccata, simple cutlets of meat served with a zingy lemon-butter-caper sauce, is a dish that speaks to my childhood — memories that all came flooding back when I made it again recently.
Most of the country is suffering from triple-digit heat, and no one wants to be in the kitchen. Thus, this cooling pheasant (or chicken) salad that relies on a gentle – and unique – poaching method.
Sharptail grouse is strong-tasting, but I love it, especially when paired with flavors from the prairie where it lives: Wheat, sunflower seeds, wild onion and a rose hip glaze.
After months of struggling with NOMA, the cookbook from the Danish restaurant considered to be the best in the world, I finally get it. Food is about time, and place. And meaning.
Pheasants originated in the Eurasian plains that stretched from the Caucasus Mountains to China. So I reckoned I’d adapt a pair of Chinese classic dishes for pheasant.
Saturday chicken was one of my favorite dinners growing up. I had no idea how my mum made it, and when I asked, I was appalled… yet strangely excited. I had to make it.