I'm not a pheasant plucker...

...which is why I simply cut the breasts from the brace of pheasants I was presented with this week. They were given to me by my friend Neil who is one of the beaters for the Clovelly shoot. Very grateful I was too, as the pheasant shooting season came to an end on 1st February. Gifts like this are one of the benefits of living in the country. Just not if you are squeamish.
These are the birds that didn't get away. They are the unlucky ones, pan fried with a red wine, orange and ginger sauce (simply chuck it in after you've taken the breasts out and let it simmer whilst the breasts rest a while), served with fried portobello mushrooms (pan fried first with thyme in the same pan to save washing up) and a few heads of young broccoli. Took about 15 minutes, needed just two pans (one if you forego the greens) and tasted delicious. Something for the van perhaps? Keep your eyes peeled when you are out and about next on those country lanes. You know, just in case you couldn't swerve quickly enough. Nobody wants to see a perfectly good pheasant going to waste.

Also, note the Westcountry garnish: a bit of orange and some green stuff. That's flash round these parts.


  1. I have run a few pheasants down over the years, though never stopped to pick one up. Turned up at the inlaws once with one still embedded in the front grill..


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