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Game

SPEAKING collectively, "Game" signifies creatures taken in the chase; with us it includes Venison (of the Deer), Grouse, Hare, Partridge, Pheasant, Snipe, and Woodcock. The flesh of such " game" is finer in texture than that of butcher's meat, and does not so soon become putrid. When a domestic animal is placed under the same conditions as a wild one its flesh in the course of time assumes the closer texture, and other characteristics of game, as seen by the instance of Welsh Mountain mutton. If sent to table shortly after being killed these creatures of the chase are tough, and insipid; but when game is allowed to hang for some time in a whole condition there takes place the gradual creation of a chemical acid by fermentation in the flesh, which becomes strongly acid; also the muscular tissues grow tender, and after some time traces of hydrogen sulphides are liberated. The characteristic flavours of the game are in direct proportion to the amount of these sulphides, or mercaptans, thus set free, but not to putrefactive compounds. Such birds as Partridge, Plover, Snipe, Pheasant, Woodcock, and the like are particularly appropriate food for the sick, partly as dainties, but especially by reason of the nutrient properties which they contain. They are remarkably rich in mineral salts, especially the phosphates, which are so much needed when the system has become exhausted by disease. Birds which feed mainly on grains, such as the Partridge, and the Pheasant, will keep a long while in cold weather; but birds with dark flesh, living chiefly on animal food, quickly undergo decay. Game of white meat should be done well in cooking; that with dark flesh should be rare. The dangerous microbes which are at first associated with decomposition of game, are presently succeeded by other microbes which are harmless. Therefore if game be eaten at its preliminary stage of putrefaction it may produce serious ill effects; whilst these do not ensue after partaking of game kept longer until tender, and succulent. According to Julius Cæsar (Scaliger), the Partridge came originally from Mount Olympus, and has always more preserved the proud consciousness of his divine origin. Par excellence the grey English Partridge is the best for eating, there being also a red-legged variety which has culinary excellence. "The young birds that are taken even as they be readie to fly, and are afterwards fattened, prove the best, for they make a pure, and excellent nourishment; they are only hurtful to countrymen, because they breed in them the asthmatick passion, which is a short, and painful fetching of breath: by reason whereof these will not be able to undergoe their usuall labours. Wherefore when they shall chance to meet with a covie of young partridges, they were much better to bestow them upon such for whom they are convenient, than to adventure (notwithstanding their strong stomackes) the eating of them, seeing that there is in their flesh such a hidden and perilous antipathie unto their bodies." Says Mr. George Saintsbury, in Fur and Feather Series, "my private conviction is that the best thing you can do with a Partridge, provided he be an honest grey Partridge of British nationality (and the only one which a true gourmand would ever admit to his table), is to roast him in front of the fire, and serve him hot; furthermore to eat what is left cold of him next morning for breakfast, with no other condiment but salt, and a little cayenne pepper. For a plain roast the English grey Partridge, young, and plump, has no rival, and can be put to no better use than roasted plain, being served with such accompaniments as you may please of bread sauce, brown bread crumbs, or fried potatoes." Partridge with celery sauce is helpful in cookery for invalids ; again, Partridge pudding is a capital dish, thoroughly English; it is thought to have been invented by the South Saxons, having its origin in the region of Ashdown Forest. Phick, draw, and singe a brace of well-hung partridges. Cut them into neat joints, and if they are not very young take off the skin first." Line a quart pudding basin with a good suet crust, half an inch thick, and in trimming it off leave an inch above the edge. Lay a thin slice of rump steak at the bottom of the pudding, then put in the pieces of partridge: season with pepper and salt; and pour over them a quarter of a pint of good brown gravy. Roll out the cover, lay it on the pudding, moisten the edge, and press over it the inch that was left round the rim. Wring a pudding-cloth out of hot water, flour it well and tie it securely over the pudding, then plunge this into boiling water and keep it fast boiling all the time it is on the fire. As soon as it is taken off, cut a small round out of 66 the top to let the steam escape. Like all other meat puddings it is much better if served in the dish in which it has been cooked. A few fresh mushrooms will (as some think) improve the pudding. Game, when "high" (also fish), will emit if in a dark cellar luminous phosphorescence, acting on which fact an Austrian scientist has constructed a lamp consisting of luminous bacilli, or microbes, in gelatine. "When, they tell me, food decays, It emits quite dazzling rays, And a lobster in your room If it's ripe, dispels the gloom. "Legs of mutton somewhat high, Shine like diamonds in the sky.

Further than a lamp, it seems, Gorgonzola sheds its beams. "Gas has had its little day, Microbe light has come to stay.

Shortly we shall see each street Lit by tins of potted meat."

The Exquimaux bury the flesh of animals killed for food until it is putrid (so it is said, but would not the earth deodorise, and keep it sweet?); and the Zulus, whose synonym for heaven is, according to Dr. Colenso, "Maggot's meat," follow suit. "Of course," adds Dr. K. Chambers, "rather than die of starvation, or be reduced to the straits suffered by King Hezekiah's army, one would acquire such a habit, and invent a sauce to make it tolerable: but it is not worth while to do this in civilised society." A few words may well be said here with regard to the food preservatives of the present day, which are used (in some cases much to the detriment of the consumer's health), for preventing game, fish, meat, milk, and other perishable foods from betraying staleness, or putridity, when kept too long on hand, because still unsold whilst yet wholesome, and proper for eating. It should be generally known that most of these preservatives are poisonous if employed on provisions for the kitchen to any extent. And certainly it is high time that some supervision of our meats, and drinks, in this respect should be adequately entrusted to the competent cook, or the doctor, for the public safety and protection; because of a fully enlightened knowledge on their parts of the risks incurred, and the injuries inflicted by such mischievous mal-practices, concerning the dangerous results of which the legislature is at length becoming actively cognisant. In former times it was the custom, we are told, about Italy and Venice to employ a scalco, who had the honour and life of his master in his hands; his life, because it was then not uncommon to put poison into the food of enemies in politics, or rivals in love: so that the cook held in those days a most important, and vital position, when great persons lived in constant fear of being done to death by poisoned meals. Equally important is it now-a-days that an authorised inspection of perishable food-commodities shall be the duty of competent disinterested officials, whenever they may think proper, for the welfare, and safety of a community. For boiled partridge, or pigeon, "Clean, and season the bird : enclose it in a puff paste, and boil. Serve in its own gravy, supplemented by the liver rubbed up with some stock: and do not forget the bread-sauce. To make this latter, take the crumbs of a French roll, of water half a pint, black pepper six to eight corns, a small piece of onion, and salt to taste. Boil all smooth, then add a piece of butter about as big as a walnut, and mix for use. It is good hot with hot birds, cold with cold birds, and is an excellent food for the sick." Likewise, roast partridge, with sauerkraut (fermented cabbage), is declared by some to be the perfection of game food.

Our English Partridge was pronounced in the new London Dispensatory, "Excellent food for a weak stomach: its liver dried and drunk helps the epilepsie; its marrow and brain cure the jaundice; its gall is one of the most eminent things for defects of the eyes in the world, helping suffusions, and dimness of sight; its broth is of use against the French venereal disease." The Pheasant, originally from the banks of the Grecian river Phasis, is nowhere met with in a wild state, but requires the continued assistance of man for its preservation, and breeding. This bird has the faculty, when properly matured for cooking, or, as the French say, when properly mortified, of proving tender, short, and easily digested: for which reasons it is liked by aged, and delicate persons. "The pheasant," tells Brillat Savarin, " is a riddle of which the solution is revealed only to adepts! Every substance has its apogee of excellence, which the pheasant attains only when it begins to decompose. This state it does not reach in less than three days after its death, requiring sometimes several more. If eaten within three days it has no distinguishing flavour. Just Exwhen it begins to decompose, the aroma develops, and is the result of an oil which needs a little fermentation to bring out its perfume, just as the oil of coffee is obtained only by roasting. The bird should not be plucked till such a moment, and then larded carefully with the freshest and firmest bacon. When the proper time for this has arrived it will be indicated by a slight odour, and by a change of colour in the breast of the bird. It is a matter of importance not to pluck the pheasant too soon. perience has shown that birds kept in the feather are much more highly flavoured than those which have been plucked, and then hung for some time; whether it be that contact of the flesh with the air neutralises some portion of the aroma, or that a part of the juices which nourish the feathers becomes absorbed by the flesh. When the bird has been duly prepared it must be properly stuffed. Then cut a slice of bread four inches longer than the pheasant, and toast it. Next take the liver and entrails, grind them up with two big truffles, in anchovy, with a little chopped bacon, and a suitably-sized piece of good fresh butter. Spread this equally on the toast, and place the pheasant in the middle. When it is sufficiently cooked serve it on the toast, surrounding it there with bitter oranges; and be tranquil as to the result. These highly-flavoured dishes should be accompanied preferably with a first-class Burgundy." "A pheasant prepared after the above fashion is worthy of being set before angels, if they are still travelling about the earth as in the time of Lot." sweetnesse and pleasantnesse of taste the pheasant excelleth all other fowle: verily for goodness, and pleasantnesse of flesh it may of all sylvestriall fowle well challenge the first place at tables, for it giveth a most perfect and temperate nourishment to them that be healthy. And to the weak, sickly, or that be upon a recovery unto health, there is not so profitable a flesh, for it is very delightsome to a weak stomache; and quickly by reason of the pure and restorative nourishment which it giveth it repaireth weake, and feeble strengths." Thus declared "Tobias Venner (1620), doctor of physicke, at Bathe in the Spring and Fall; and at other times in the Burrough of North Petherton, neare to the ancient hauen towne of Bridgwater in Somerset." "For Sydney Smith (1836) wrote: "If there is a pure and elevated pleasure in this world, it is that of roast pheasant, and bread sauce; but, "Mangé trop frais (writes M. Sausanne), sa chair est fàde, et moins delicat que celle du poulet." There was a certain Duke of Rutland, who would never allow a Leicester partridge to be dressed for his table, since, as he said, "partridges are worth nothing in a grass district." But the same may be told much more emphatically about pheasants: bred between the maggots, and the buckwheat, these birds may run to bulk, but they lose in flavour, and wholesomeness of flesh. "Per contra," pheasants from the Welsh woods, and their natural succulent shrubberies, are unimpeachable. The merits of a well roasted pheasant with browned bread crumbs, and potato chips, or surrounded with bitter oranges, are to be enthusiastically extolled. Again, a plump, young hen pheasant boiled with unbroken skin, and bedded on celery, whilst served with celery sauce, containing the faintest dash of lemon, is a "dish for the gods." "But I'll have no pheasant, cock, or hen," exclaims the shepherd, in the Winter's Tale. According to Lemery (1674), "the use of the pheasant (which is a wholesome bird) prevails against epilepsies and convulsions." French cooks make the bodies of pheasants into pies, whilst the plumage is profitably sold. Game should not be too fat, because in cooking, the oily, yellow, fatty tissues become rank; being less digestible than other animal fats, they leave a reproachful flavour for some time after the meal through retarded digestion. "An old fowl, likewise," says Dr. Chambers, "has a rank taste, as of a close hen house, because of the absorption into its flesh of the oil furnished by nature to lubricate the feathers."

Whilst shooting at Sandringham in November, 1902, as our King's favoured guest, the Kaiser killed a golden pheasant, and asked that it might be cooked for his own special eating. The Chinese are said to make a great use of pheasants' eggs as a cosmetic to give their hair lustre and brilliancy. "Describe the adventures of the Duke of Monmouth after the Battle of Sedgemoor," was a question propounded to a class under examination; when a brilliant youngster replied, "He changed his clothes with a pheasant, and was found dead in the gutter." A French saying (translated) runs that "In October de Englishman do shoot de pheasant; in November he do shoot himself." Pheasants brains were among the ingredients of the dish which Vitellius named the "Shield of Minerva" in old Roman days. Grouse (Lagopus Scoticus), from the Scotch moors, have flesh of a grey colour, with an excellent aromatic flavour; but they require to be drawn as soon as killed, or they would soon become tainted; they should be hung long to make them tender, and then always roasted. Sauerkraut (the pickled cabbage) goes well with them, if stewed with butter, and a little wine, in standard broth. "I think," said a wise and gracious hostess "Grouse is a dinner." As an accompaniment nothing can equal French beans, which nature supplies precisely at the right time. The liver of grouse when cooked separately, pounded with butter, salt, and cayenne pepper, is, if spread upon toast, to be much commended. Soyer liked to eat grouse absolutely by themselves, with nothing but a crust of bread. Watercress suits for an adjunct, as with most roasted birds. From twenty to thirty minutes should be the time allowed for roasting a young grouse : but there should be nothing red, or soignant about the bird when carved; if possible it should be taken from the fire promptly after the last likelihood of such a trace has disappeared.

As commendable aids to the digestion of all game, a prune salad, and freshly expressed orange juice, are of service to the invalid; likewise a sauce made with equal parts of orange and lemon juice, with brown sugar added thereto in sufficient quantity. Sir Henry Thompson has told of a wild duck roasted and served without sauce. The bird was served over a spirit lamp, and after some long slices had been carved from the breast, the remains of the bird were put into a nickel-silvered press, when a few turns of the lever brought forth "a quantity of hot, rich, red juice to make a most exquisite sauce."

The Hare (Lepus), as to its medicinal uses in whole, or parts, has been considered somewhat fully in Kitchen Physic. Here we may sum up its character generally on a consensus of evidence as "melancholy meat," bad for persons disposed to hypochondria, and sluggish liver. The Egpytians expressed a melancholy man by a hare sitting in her form. Lucretius attributed sadness to the influence of hares even amid nature's brightest surroundings. "Medio de fonte leporum Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat."

The poet Cowper (1780) whose lamentable fits of depression are on literary record, chose pet hares, Puss, Tiny, and Bess, wherewith to try and divert his mind. "Never give way to melancholy," taught Sydney Smith, " resist it steadily, for the habit will encroach. I once gave a lady two and twenty recipes against melancholy: One was a bright fire; another to remember all the pleasant things said of and to her; another to keep a box of sugar-plums on the chimney piece, and a kettle simmering on the hob. I thought this mere trifling at the moment, but have in after life discovered how true it is that these little pleasures often banish melancholy better than higher and more exalted objects."

The flesh of a hare is such dry food that cooks have a saying, "A hare with twelve pennyworth of sauce is worth only a shilling." Matthiolus prescribed hare's liver dried, and reduced to powder, as a specific for biliary derangements; this was anticipating the advanced scientific treatment now recognized of such disorders by an animal extract from the same healthy organ (of sheep, calf, etc.), as that at fault in the human subject. The iodine value, and drying property of hares' fat are remarkable, as showing the presence therein of an unsaturated acid. The hare was not eaten by the ancient Britons. Hippocrates forbade its use because thickening the blood, and causing wakefulness. None the less hare soup is a favourite English dish having some of the blood included. The proverbial phrase "first catch your hare" (before proceeding to cook it), was attributed to Mrs. Glasse in Dr. Johnson's time, this having actually been a misprint in her Cookery book, for "first case (or, skin) your hare." The aphorism signifies that before disposing of a thing one should first make sure of possessing it. In Shakespeare's time there were several superstitions about the hare; its shape, and aspect were thought to be assumed frequently by witches; the blood was reputed to cure ringworm, a bone of the hind leg prevented cramp, the skin burnt to powder stanched blood, and the animal was believed to have taught men the medicinal virtues of the succory plant.

Under the Levitical law propounded by Moses the hare was prohibited as food for the Israelites because "he cheweth the cud, but divideth not the hoof, therefore he is unclean unto you." 66 Charles Lamb devoutly favoured roasted hare as delicious food .

Pheasants," said he, "are poor fowls dressed in fine feathers! but a hare! roasted hard and brown, with gravy and melted butter!" Old Mr. Chambers, the sensible clergyman in Warwickshire, used to allow a pound of Epping to every hare. Perhaps that was overdoing it ! But in spite of the note of Philomel who reiterates every Spring her cuckoo cry of Jugjug-jug, Elia pronounces that a hare to be truly palated must be roasted; jugging sophisticates her, whilst in our way it eats SO "crips," as Mrs. Minikin, the cook, says. Nash tells in his Spring song for that season :- "Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo." "The ancients must have loved hares, else why adopt the word lepores, but for some subtle analogy between the delicate flavour of the creature and their finer relishes of wit in what we poorly translate pleasantries. In fact, how light of digestion we feel after a hare! How tender its processes after swallowing ! What chyle it promotes! How etherial, as if its living celerity were a type of its nimble coursing through the animal juices!" Incidentally elsewhere Lamb says that bullock's heart is a substitute for hare. Certain large hares in the United States are "Jackass rabbits." Sam Weller in Pickwick described a fidgety invalid as "A genlem'n of the precise and tidy sort who puts their feet in little India-rubber fire-buckets wen it's vet vether, and never has no other bosom friends but hare-skins." Piscator, in Izaak Walton's Compleat Angler, teaches Scholar "there are many country people that believe hares change sexes every year; and there be very many learned men think so too, for in their dissecting them they find many reasons to incline them to that belief."

The Rabbit, Lepus Cuniculus, which we know so well in its wild state as a most prolific little animal, and of much popularity as a food for the working classes, "thrives best," says Fuller, 66 on barren ground, and grows fattest in the hardest frosts; their flesh is fine and wholesome." Both this animal and the hare affect some persons who partake of either, with nettlerash, or spasmodic asthma. Rabbit pie made without a hole in the top crust to let ptomainic vapours escape, as generated by the flesh whilst being baked, has proved actually poisonous in several recorded cases. "Talbotays" was a former sauce taken with rabbits and hares, being concocted of the blood, with pepper, salt, and ale. In Yorkshire there is a familiar nursery rhyme :- Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit pie, Come my ladies, come and buy,, Else your babies they will cry."

Rabbit flesh somewhat resembles fowl. The thin sides about the ribs of a rabbit, and the flabby belly flanks are always of a bad taste, and should be removed in the trimming of the animal, so as not to be used. For the same reason it is never advisable to fill a rabbit with stuffing inside the belly. Likewise care should be exercised only to approve of a sound liver for cooking, as free from nodules, or discoloured spots. In Lear's Book of Nonsense (about which Ruskin pronounced, "The Book of Nonsense, by Edward Lear, with its corollary carols, inimitable and refreshing, and perfect rhythm, is surely the most innocent and beneficial of all such books") occurs the quaint jingle:- "There was an old person whose habits Induced him to feed upon rabbits; When he'd eaten eighteen, he turned perfectly green, Upon which he relinquished those habits."

The Woodcock (Scolopax Rusticola), gets its food mainly by suction, and is clean for cooking in its entirety, except the gizzard , after being plucked of the feathers. The flesh is better as the winter advances. It may be eaten with benefit by asthmatic persons, but cannot be kept fit for the table long after being killed; the rump and the loins are furnished with firm white fat. Montreuil has a high reputation for its woodcock patés. In English clubs when woodcocks and snipes are served, their heads are taken off and returned to the kitchen, from whence they reappear at the end of dinner smothered in mutton fat, and well seasoned with salt and pepper; thus prepared they are presented on a plate to each guest, accompanied by a lighted candle. The guest then grills, or rather burns, the head in the flame of the candle, and proceeds to crunch it whilst still spluttering with the heat, having first well smothered it with cayenne pepper. So says M. Suzanne. Neither bread-sauce, nor fried crumbs are usually served with woodcock. Some persons choose an orange sauce, or cranberry jelly, or red currant jelly. Few dainties can rival a woodcock simply roasted: dress it (likewise red mullet) with a little butter: the gravy which comes from each of them is its best sauce. Open fire roasting is the only means of doing culinary justice to this noble bird; the inequality of roasting because of the legs makes it clear that such a delicate operation cannot be anyhow effected in a baking oven. The time for cooking may be estimated at from fifteen to twenty minutes, but if over-cooked the bird becomes tough, and without savour. Serve on toast, and garnish with watercress. Retrievers do not like the scent of the woodcock, and will frequently decline to bring it in. November and December are the woodcock months. "A la Saint Michel Becasse tombe du ciel."

A curious doctrine termed "Totenism" was held of old among the Greeks, and the North American Indians, this signifying the existence of persons who asserted their several claims to descent from, and kinship with certain birds, beasts, or vegetables. Wherefore because of the particular "totem," or family association, each of such persons would religiously abstain from eating his, or her, own kindred creature, or plant. Thus in his Roman Orations, Plutarch asks, "Why do the Latins abstain strictly from partaking of the Woodpecker's flesh?" (Picus). It was the Roman 66 gens," the Piceni, which specially took the woodpecker for its totem. In Australia we hear of a medicine-man whose clan totem through his mother was a kangaroo, but whose individual (secret) totem was the tiger-snake, on which account snakes of that species would not hurt him. Longfellow in Hiawatha refers to this particular custom. "And they painted on the grave posts Each his own ancestral totem, Each the symbol of his household, Figures of the bear, and reindeer, Of the turtle, crane, and beaver, Each inverted as a token That the owner was departed."

VENISON. The flesh of the deer, is particularly digestible by invalids because of its looseness of fibre, and texture, which permits a special ready access of the gastric juices. But it must not be hung long enough to become at all corrupt, so as to engender ptomaines afterwards within the stomach, or bowels. Robert Lovell (1661) said the flesh of the buck is dry, and causeth piles, except used with pepper, cinnamon, and mustard. Venison, which is a highly savoury food, consists of albuminates, or nutritive solids, nineteen parts, fat two parts, and water seventynine parts. It was formerly served in Egypt, as by Joseph to his brethren, together with furmity made from wheat. If eaten too freely, the flesh will breed melancholy. It should never be eaten in a hurry," wrote James Payn, "as though it were a soup at a railway station. Like a moderately good picture at the Academy Exhibition it should be hung, and not too high." If it only smelt as nice as it tastes, it would be a public boon, but often as the time comes for dressing it, the cook "thinks as it ought to be put underground before it produces a pestilence, and puts her there, too." Venison Panada will please the sick sportsman, this being a preparation of bread soaked, softened, and flavoured with a purée of venison. The famous Robin Hood said to Henry the Eighth in Sherwood Forest, "Sir, outlaws' breakfast is venison, and therefore you must be content with such fare as we use. Then the king and queen sate down, and were served with venyson, and wyne, by Robin Hood and hys men, to theyre great contentacion." "For, finer, or fatter Ne'er ranged in a forest, nor smoked on a platter.

The haunch was a picture for painters to study, The fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy."

Oliver Goldsmith's Haunch of Venison.

The name "alderman's walk" is given to the centre cut (long incision) of the haunch, where the most delicate slices are to be found. Venison pasty, formerly so much esteemed, owed its attraction chiefly to the currants placed between the layers of meat. Roger Bacon commended venison, "for," said he, "that which liveth long by his own nature maketh others also to live long." In Borneo, the men may not eat the flesh of the deer, though it is allowed to the women and children. The reason given is that if the men were to eat venison they would become as timid as deer. Rebecca, of the Old Testament, must have cooked with considerable skill, as she converted the kid into savoury meat so nearly resembling venison as to be eaten for it by the blind old patriarch Isaac, who evidently could appreciate venison as much as do modern epicures.

Among the privy purse expenses of Henry VII (1490), under date August 8th, occurs the item, "to a woman, three shillings and four pence, for clarifying deer suet," to be used by the King, not for culinary, but for medicinal purposes. It was then, and much later employed as an ointment. Quod olfactu fædum est, idem est esu turpe," says the Comic Latin Grammar, "that which is foul to be smelled is also nasty to be eaten (except venison, onions, and cheese)." Shakespeare knew that at the rutting season the hart's horn is dangerous, "if thou be hurt with hart it brings thee to thy bier." But under ordinary circumstances the burnt horn of a stag was given against worms, and hart's grease was a remedy for the gout. "The fat, or suet, and the marrow of venison (the stag) applied outwardly, are very good against rheumatism, and for dissolving tumours, for sciatica, and to fortify the nerves." A venison dinner is customary annually at Farnham, over which the Bishop of Winchester presides. This is a survival of the grand old days when the lords of Farnham Castle were princes as well as Bishops. In 1892, the stair carpets there were measured by miles. Samuel Pepys, January 6th, 1659, "took his wife to their cosen Thomas Pepys, and found them just sat down to dinner, which was very good, only the venison pasty was palpable mutton, which was not handsome."

Quails (coturnix), though for the most part imported into this country, yet find their way commonly into game-sellers shops, and afford for the invalid as delicate, succulent, easily digested a little dish as can well be desired, though lacking a true gamey flavour. As many as two hundred thousand are brought in a month to Leadenhall Market during the season. Such great quantities have been captured in the Isle of Capri, near Naples, as to afford the Bishop the chief part of his revenue, and distinguish him as the Bishop of Quail. The most approved way of cooking a quail is to envelop it in a very thin slice of bacon, tie it up in a large vine leaf, and then roast it; or again, en papillote, in a paper case. Also a cold quail pie is a capital dish for persons in good health. "He that feeds never on worse meat than quails, And with choice dainty pleaseth appetite, Will never have great lust to gnaw his nails, Or in a coarse, thin diet take delight."

The quail is a clean, plump bird, feeding at night on insects and seeds. It abounds at the Cape in October and November, being generally cooked there in a baking pot, or made into a curry. The flavour of a quail is very volatile, and whenever it is brought into contact with liquid the perfume evaporates, and is lost. Sicilian quails, sent alive to this country, are fattened en route on hemp seed, and ground corn soaked in oil. The Romans diverted themselves with fights between the male birds pitted one against another; and it was with quails of the same species the Israelites were fed of old in the wilderness, and became plague-stricken for their greed. "And there went forth a wind from the Lord, and brought quails from the sea, and let them fall by the camp, as it were two cubits high upon the face of the earth. And the people stood up all that day, and all that night, and all the next day, and they gathered the quails, and they spread them all abroad for themselves round about the camp. And while the flesh was yet between their teeth, ere it was chewed, the wrath of the Lord was kindled against the people, and the Lord smote the people with a very great plague; and he called the name of that place Kibrothhattaavah (the graves of the greedy), because there they buried the people that lusted." The ancient Romans feared quails because supposed to cause epileptic fits; but these birds are said to have cured Hercules of epilepsy.