Sunday nights are always good for BBQ's. I don't care how hot it is here in Phoenix, once the sun goes down you can sit outside, sweat it out, smoke a few stogies, and throw something on the grill and spice it up with some habanero sauce to make the insides as warm as the outsides.
Last weekend my brother and his girlfriend invited me and my girlfriend over for just such an occasion. The intent was to grill some ke-bobs and hot dogs. Who knew that we would be spit-roasting baby quail?
For anyone who has ever eaten veal (yeah, i know that it's illegal to raise veal in Arizona, and just as controversial to eat it...but dang if it ain't the tastiest meat you have ever tasted!), you know that baby-anything is quite scrumptious. Baby quail is no exception. It tastes like chicken boiled in a crock pot for three days with eight pounds of butter. And when they are that young, you can even eat the bones.
I love it.
Baby quail are hard to come by. I'm sure that you are wondering how we came into some. Don't worry gentle reader, I am going to tell you. But, I do not suggest that you try this at home. Baby quail are a gift from the gods. They only come around at exactly the right time.
And for my friends and I that time was last Sunday.
My brother has been in trouble with his HOA for the weeds in his yard. And where HOA's are a topic for another day and another blog, this is a key component in this story. If my brother had not been in trouble with the HOA after all he would never have been prompted to go buy a gallon of Roundup (Legalized DDT). I didn't know that he had sprayed RU all over the front and back yards when he began bragging about the quail that live in his backyard.
After a few drinks I was asked to go outside to see the quail. It was pointed out to me that there were a few males keeping sentry over the babies, and they stood out in all their glory on the wall. Plumes proudly displayed, I was reminded of how cool these birds are, how social, and how ridiculous it would be to eat such a majestic creature.
It was at this point that I was informed that there were babies running around in the weeds, and I kept my eyes peeled for them. "How many?", I asked.
"Four".
The males cocked their heads, plumes blowing in the wind, and my gaze remained on the weeds. Suddenly, they bolted. The cute little chicks were fast, and blinking might cause you to miss them. So it's possible that I only saw two. But I really did only see two.
Then my brother opened the lid of his little black weber and I saw the other two.
"What's for dinner?", I asked.
As if I had to.
No comments:
Post a Comment