Let’s face it: pheasants aren’t the brightest of animals. I can’t imagine that they communicate with each other by way of a sophisticated, high-pitched language like dolphins do. And I doubt they feel the strong and binding sense of family enjoyed by wildlife’s more intelligent primates. No, a pheasant has done well if it can escape the path of a slow-moving agricultural vehicle, disappear into a hedgerow and remember which side of the ditch to get out of afterwards.
They do, of course, benefit from a beautiful and striking plumage; they are plentiful and therefore cheap; and, I understand, relatively easy to shoot. They are also good to eat, but tricky to cook well as they are invariably overcooked, and if you are reluctant to persevere, after dry, tough failures, then read on.
The first thing to understand about nearly all game birds is that they are very different from their pampered, reared cousins. Although the vast majority of pheasants are only semi-wild (in that they are bred in outdoor pens before being released into the wild), they fly and run around a lot. This leads to some pretty serious muscle/sinew development in the leg and wing areas, which has consequences when it comes to cooking and eating them. In short, the legs aren’t much cop. I can’t think of a more serious appetite suppressant than arriving at a dinner party for four and learning that the host has only one bird in the oven. Believe me, even the craftiest carver is going to struggle dishing out the goodies: “Breast or leg, Bruce?” “Most definitely breast for me, thank you very much.” It is far better to take off the legs for use in a stock, or to braise them coq-au-vin style, and allow one legless pheasant – the crown – for two people. The next important issue is how long we cook the thing for.
The importance of resting
Sensitive pheasants get their own back on members of the stupid-bird-joke brigade such as me, by being tricky to handle. It is important not to fire the bird for too long or at too fierce a heat. The breast bone also tapers more acutely than on, say, a chicken, leaving the narrow band of meat at the “cul” (backside) end exposed and liable to drying out.
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Personally, I don’t go in for the traditional laying of bacon rashers over the crown, preferring the more roasted effect, made possible by the heat of the oven being in direct contact with the skin. (I also fail to see how a thin piece of bacon or two is going to do much good in the drying out stakes; rather like wearing a pair of pyjamas in a rain storm.) Regular basting is important if dry-roasting and it is vital to rest well after cooking; the bird that is, not the chef.
A brief word or two here about the importance of resting meat after cooking. All meat continues to cook after it has been taken out of the oven because it is still relatively hot. If the meat is served while this process is still in motion, it is likely to be tough. When you come to carve, if steam escapes from under the knife, the meat has not been rested anywhere near long enough.
Don’t worry about the bird getting cold – it will stay palatably warm for much longer than you might expect. Ideally, a warm location should be found; an airing cupboard is very good but not always handy. Loosely wrapping the bird in foil is a good idea, but if you encase it too tightly, it will continue to cook, which is what we are trying to avoid.
A rough rule of thumb is to rest meat for about the same length of time that it spent in the oven. This may sound an implausibly long period for some, but try it and I promise that your roast will taste more forgiving. Piping hot plates are then the order of the day.
The right degree of heat
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One often reads that pheasants benefit from braising or pot-roasting techniques. This is true up to a point, but, again, timing is everything.
There is little point in attempting to preserve the bird’s succulence by pot-roasting in a Le Creuset with some nice stock and a heavy fitting lid (good idea), then blasting the whole thing in a hot oven for two hours (bad idea). Similarly, there is nothing wrong with roasting it conventionally as long as the temperature is kind and the basting is done regularly.
It is all a question of degrees, quite literally. The breast meat is relatively unforgiving because it has very little fat attached. Remember: the fit little blighter spends most of its life running away from maniac drivers and hunting parties (or worse still: a hunting party in a Land Rover driven by a maniac). But it is this leanness that makes game birds such good, healthy fare. The paucity of natural fat means very satisfying and healthy eating for us.
Lastly, it only remains to talk briefly about what to serve with our pheasant. Luckily, nature and the season come to our aid. Most fruit and vegetables that thrive at this time of year go splendidly with pheasant and game in general. If we think of blackberries (at the beginning of the season); Bramley and Cox apples; pears and quince; wild mushrooms; fresh chestnuts and walnuts; butternut squash and pumpkins; Jerusalem artichokes; celeriac; parsnips; swedes; red, green and savoy cabbages, we won’t go too far wrong.
As for the carbs, again it is not difficult to find a fitting partner: polenta; all manner of potato dishes, especially gratins; spatzle (tiny noodles); gnocchi; pasta; dumplings; pearl barley; lentils and butter beans; sourdough bruschetta and so on. Just no dopey pheasant jokes please, because the game old bird might have the last laugh.
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Bruce Poole is the chef-owner of Chez Bruce (www.chezbruce.co.uk)