A slight variation

So far I have only posted restaurant reviews with the occasional rant about something that is pissing me off. The next couple of posts will be slightly different. First off - I want to talk about a meal that I will probably never have but have read a fair bit about and would love to experience. And secondly - I'm searching for Melbourne's best canoli...more about these later.

So the meal....fair warning for you all, some of you won't want to read this. So if you keep reading and don't like it - don't blame me.

Ortolan - fat, blind birds.

The meal probably became famous as Francois Mitterand's last meal. His description of this meal is to this day one of the most descriptive, emotional and confronting descriptions of a meal I have ever read.

Let me tell how it's made. Ortolan is a small bird. Looks like a finch. It's native to Europe and parts of Asia and is becoming increasingly extinct. They are very difficult to find and to do so would probably require a shady contact in the black market. But it's not the "extinct" bit that is the problem. I mean we all know someone who can get black market finch like birds right?

It's the preparation. The birds are caught and then blinded by having a hot poker pushed through their eyes. The reason for this is to blind the birds (!) and trick them in to not knowing if it is night or day. Why a blanket over a cage wouldn't work is beyond me. Once blinded they are fed a mix of grains, millet, oats and figs - all to enhance the flavour of the meat.

Over a short period of time (probably feels like forever to a blinded bird) the birds reach the perfect plumpness and are ready for the next step. This is a little nicer than the hot eye gouging they have just been through. The birds are drowned in Armagnac, plucked, and roasted (do you like how I skipped over the drowning bit?).

They are roasted individually in small pots so that they can be served in the pot to the lucky diner. The birds aren't gutted. The heads and legs are intact. They are served in their small individual pots ("cocotte" in French). The extra fat they built up during their blind gorging sizzles against the heat of the pot.

As the lid comes off a dash of Armagnac is flamed and the birds are ready to eat. The birds are eaten after placing a napkin over one's head (ode to VK) in order to intensify the aroma (or maybe to hide your face in shame?). The bird is traditionally picked up by the skull and placed feet first into your mouth. Only the head sticking out. Then you crunch down on their plump little bodies and let the lusciously cooked gooey mixture of fat, bird guts and armagnac fill your mouth. Little bones crunching between your teeth, hot gushes of flavour running down your throat.

Eventually you eat the head and beak. I have read some people have experienced the piercing and scratching of their own gums from the sharp little bones - so add the taste of your own blood to the bird fat, fig, armagnac and bird gut mixture.

This is the most decadent of meals. And the reason I can write about it is because I will probably never experience it. But it does capture everything that food could be. Luscious. Decadent. Rare. Emotional. Extravagant. Moreover, I write about to prompt some of the seven people that read this blog to tell me what meal they might like to try. Or what they think about meals such as this one.

By the way - I am also starting to look for Melbourne's best canoli. Let me know if there are any you would recommend. I have had a couple in the last few days that I will write up shortly. No rules except that if I can't be bothered going to your cake shop, I won't.

Eat well!