Widgeon
It will not do to inquire too curiously into the food of all the animals we eat. It may be painful to reflect that the hogs of Montanches which yield the most superb hams are fed on vipers; that ducks dabble in the gutter; that woodcocks live on earthworms; that a whole family of snipes nourish themselves on Father long-legs; and that red mullets are caught where they find their victuals, beneath the mackerel shoals. But there is no fear of our being shocked by the diet of the widgeon. It is a nice little bird, which feeds wholly on the short sweet Wild Duck grass beloved by the goose. It is for this reason in Lapland called the grass-duck. The nature of its food is perfectly well ascertained; because, unlike its congeners the mallard or wild duck, the poachard and the teal, which feed by night, it feeds by day, and seems to have no great fear of the human race. It comes to us from the north in the end of September, and remains till the beginning of April.
As a rule it is understood that winged game should be underdone; but with regard to wild-fowl the rule is expressed in very strong terms-that the fowl should see the fire and no more. It is obvious that this fashion will not suit everybody's taste. Much or little, the widgeon is to be roasted before a brisk, bright fire, and to be sent to table with a crisp surface, with crusts or toast, and convoyed by a boatful of orange gravy sauce. Sometimes only the fillets are served, with the pinions attached. In this case they come to table piping hot in a bath of orange gravy.
WILD DUCK used to be called Mallard, but receives its present name out of respect for our friends of the horsepond, whose forefather it is supposed to be. As such, the wild duck is like nothing else that comes to our table, unless it be the rabbit of the warren and the wild boar. When we taste the tame duck of Rouen, or a rabbit of the hutch, we are tasting civilization : when we put the breast of the wild duck into our mouths, or a shoulder of the rabbit from the sand-burrow, we are embracing savage life and enjoying nature. Let the philosopher say which is best. In the case of the rabbit there can be no doubt: the wild coney is beyond the tame one. But the superiority of the wild duck over the civilised one is by no means established. A duckling with green peas is indeed one of the triumphs of civilisation; and none of your "flappers" (the name given to wild ducklings) can approach it. Still there Woodcock is an imposing minority who vote for wild duck-especially if it is of their own shooting. The worst of the wild duck, however, and its congeners, is that they are apt to have a fishy flavour; though where this flavour comes from it is difficult to say. The widgeon, for example, is known to feed wholly or almost wholly on grass; and yet it has often a strong fishy taste. It is to get rid of this grossness that wild fowl are sometimes stuffed with sage and onions and other high and mighty principles. On the whole, however, it has been discovered that stuffing is a useless excess. The only stuffing that may be allowed is plain crumb of bread well soaked in port or other red wine. Let the roasting of the duck be as rapid as his flight-before a brisk fire on a jack that revolves with quick music. Let him come up to table with a crisp, brown surface, suggesting hot haste; but inwardly-for the epicure he must be underdone. His sauce is orange gravy.
I have spoken of him the drake, who indeed fetches a higher price than the duck. But as a rule the duck is better.