For my dirty bird: revisiting quail

I have a friend who calls himself "the dirty bird." It's one of the things he calls himself. I adore him. The way we met is one of those things that could only happen in NYC. He was waiting tables at a favorite restaurant, and we went at holiday time. He took care of us. We exchanged one liners, he kept up with me. Annalena likes that in a man. Wanna impress her? Show that you have wit. The dirty bird does. And this is for him

One of the very first blog entries I wrote (nearly 500 of them ago), dealt with my nephew's notorious statement "the cuter the animal the sweeter the meat." There is this dichotomy among some of my friends. A few, will not eat meat from an animal they deem "cute." So, Eugene does not eat rabbit, or quail, or lamb, but he will eat beef and pork. On the other hand, there are those like my nephew, who will gravitate toward the cuter animal because he thinks it's going to taste better. Keep him away from venison, that's for sure (Keep me away, too, but for different reasons. Not my cup of meat).

So , anyway, I havent' written much about them since then, if at all, and I don't think I've written about currants.

SOMEONE has to be doing something with them. I am really flummoxed. Fresh currants are not what you buy in the box, that look like small raisins. Those "currants" are really a form of a dried grape. Fresh currants do not dry well, and they are deceptive, in the sense that they look like they should be very sweet. Uh uh. There is a slight sourness about currants that makes them interesting, but not something to put in your lunch box. They are loaded with pectin, which makes them terrific for jam and jelly, and I guess a lot of people are using them that way. Also, they are indispensible in one of my favorite dishes, summer pudding, where they act to hold all that summer fruit together in one large mass. (Hmmm. Need a dessert on tuesday. Maybe...).

Well, where am I going with this? OK, yesterday I wrote about the fennel puree (which was so good, by the way, I'm going to make it again for that meal where I need the dessert). The menu I "appropriatead" the idea from included quail. Now, I lost that menu. Don't ask me how, I just did. It's Murphy's Law in action. I have so many menus that I'm not using, the ONE menu I needed, I can't find. So I didn't remember how they cooked the quail.

Well, necessity propels the cook. Wandering around the market, I saw currants, and began thinking of the dish that I make so often in the fall: the quail in grape sauce. Well, currants certainly don't have the juice of grapes, but with a little help.... Also, that grape sauce dish is a bit sweet, and I wanted something a bit tarter. So I needed to add some liquid, and also to try to push it toward tartness.

Balsamic vinegar seemed to fill the bill: it has that wonderful combination of sour and sweet, the "agrodolce" of Italian cooking. The dish began to take shape, and here it is. Try it if you eat things that are cute.

For two people, get two quail. This works better with the whole, rather than the semi-boned quail. IF you have semi-boned, cut the cooking time on the meat. Salt the birds the morning of the night you're making dinner, just like I advise on all meat dishes.

When you're ready, get a pint of fresh, red currants. Standard wisdom tells you to run the strands of currant through a fork and the berries will just come off. Standard wisdom does not tell you how much you will curse as the strands break and the stems fall back into your currants. Rub them off with your fingers instead. It won't take long. If it did, I'd cook this with the stems (you know how I get).

Have a quarter cup of Balsamic vinegar ready. Put about 3 tablespoons of oliveoil in a wide pan, and when it's hot, add the quail. Brown them well. I would say to plan on 8 minutes. Do two minutes on their backs, flip them and do the same on the breast side, then 2 on each side of the birds. Here, you'll have to move them so that they are laying in the pan, side down rather than back or front, and do it again. It ain't no big thing. If your pan isn't hot enough, and you're not getting the brown you want, cook them longer.

When they're done, pour off most but not all of the fat. Add the currants evenly around the pan, and then the vinegar. Cover the pan, lower the heat, and let them cook for about ten minutes. That's all you need.

The currants will collapse into a heavy , jellied mass, lightened by the reduced balsamic vinegar. If you like - you don't have to - thin this a bit with vinegar, or wine, or chicken stock. Spoon that sauce over the birds, after you plate them.

YOU'RE DONE. If you've cleverly made the puree ahead of time, you can be cooking a veggie in another pan at the same time the quail are cooking, and dinner is on the table in a half hour.

Of course, if you're cooking for someone who finds quail incredibly cute (incidentally, while they may be cute, farm raised quail are the dumbest creatures you can imagine), then you will have to wait for the take out to arrive. And don't even ask if s/he would prefer squab instead.