Nothing Says Thanksgiving in February like Golden Jumbo Quail

It's not November, but I have some thanks-giving to do.  Because of one of the biggest Cluster Flakes to hit DC in years, I haven't had work for three straight days.

Are you, like me, relaxing inside the big BIC Wite-Out bottle that is currently Washington DC and looking for a unique way to give thanks for the unexpected snolidays?  Then you should roast a quail. 

Let me explain.

The original Thanksgiving Day feast wasn't turkey.  It was typically a much smaller, leaner game bird like quail, which is also more tender and flavorful than many of its fowl relatives.  And it's got lots of dark meat; even the breast meat is dark (true of all birds that fly).  Plus quail has a nutritional value three to four times that of chicken. 

Throw in the fact that, because it is game meat, these birds are devoid of hormones, antibiotics and additives, and you've got yourself one quail of a thanksgiving.

I bought my quail yesterday at A&H Seafood and Gourmet Market.  Thanks to the senile drivers of Bethesda, so petrified by snow that their cars seemed at times to turn to stone, I spent about an hour in traffic getting there, but Gino made the trip worth it. 

Not only did he have a good selection of golden jumbo quail, he was also running a special on some cool-looking "trumpet of death" mushrooms.  If I needed to alert a village that the king was dead, and I had to use a mushroom as my trumpet, this is the one I would choose, black and shriveled as it is.  But so what if it looks a little like the Grim Reaper's earlobes; Gino said it had good flavor, so I bought some for my quail gravy.

Back home, I removed the packaging and gave my little defeathered friends a once-over.  I can see why these guys don't sell so hot; each weighs a measly 12 ounces with barely a trace of fat.  Compare that to the 20 pound roasters you have for T-giving, or the plump, big-breasted commercial chickens. 

But, to the extent that one can bond with a decapitated game bird, I quickly became a fan of the quail's look, what with the muscular legs yet charmingly petite wings that kind of reminded me of rabbit arms.

Cooking the quail was simple.  All I did was:

(See pics of my quail after the break)

1. Make the gravy by sauteing together flour, chicken stock, and sherry.

2. Brown the mushrooms in butter and add them to the gravy.

3. Stuff the quail with jamon; dredge the birds in flour and salt; brown them and throw on the gravy mixture; and roast for an hour.

Being a novice at game roasting, I was surprised by how well this turned out.  Maybe I was just born with mad game, but I'm pretty sure it's easy for everyone.  Because it's so lean, the big concern when cooking quail is that you'll dry out the meat, but, probably because I gave the butter a heavy hand, my birds stayed tender and juicy.

So don't quail at your blizzard-enforced house-arrest.  In between Netflicks and counting the dots on your ceiling, help me start the new snoliday tradition and throw some quail in the oven.