In a darkened room I once sat with a napkin over my heads and face. The crunching sounds from under the napkins was unmistakable. Sworn to secrecy, I was chewing the flesh, bones and entrails of one of France’s greatest delicacies, the Ortolan. This tiny songbird whose declining numbers led the French Government to forbid its sale anywhere in the country. The napkins are part of the ritual, as is the method of eating the bird: it is held by its head and devoured in a single bite.

Tonight small Bécasse I was offered to eat one, reserved for us and not forbidden. Referred to as woodcocks, they are small stocky birds, they almost can fit into your hand, brown and blackish plumage and slender and long bills. Their eyes are located on the sides of their heads, which gives them 360° vision, and the tip of the bill’s upper mandible is flexible. They feed at night or in the evenings, searching for invertebrates in soft ground with their long bills.

They are not so unusual, not everyone enjoys the game-taste, worthwhile to try, it all depends on the cooking style and preparation. Does the chef maintain the entrails and use them in the sauce, or cream them as an accompaniment.

I prefer a natural way, keep it simple, meat sous-vides, not over cooked, tender and moist, not too much sauce or you loose the delicate aromas of the meat.