Newlyns game course builds confidence with meats that deserve more use

With enough cooking schools under my belt, both at home and abroad, to consider myself a bit of an expert, I am delighted to rank our local spot … Newlyns … to be the best.  (For reasons why, you'll have to read to the end.)  The consequence:  we keep taking a few classes a year, working our way through their curriculum.

For us, one of the most eagerly anticipated was game cookery, and it finally rolled around this past Saturday.

Game, for you urban, non-foodie types, is meat that's hunted rather than farmed.  Venison, pheasant, partridge, rabbit, etc.  We're surrounded by hunting estates here in Hampshire, so plenty makes its way into our farm shops.  There's not enough of it, generally, to meet the mass production necessary for the big supermarket shelves, however.  And our affluent Western society channels us towards familiar cuts of familiar meats.  Thus game is strange and, to people who'd prefer to think of their meat as spontaneously generating in skinless fillet form from the pristine styrofoam beneath it, rather horrifying.

I'll admit, it's not for the faint hearted to walk into a kitchen classroom and be greeted by a pile of dead, and completely intact, birds. But buck up, it's worth it.  Game tastes good.  It's almost always local, so fresh and environmentally friendly.  And it's usually far leaner than farmed meat; a Weight Watcher's dream.

The most important thing we learned was how to pluck and draw a bird.  This is mostly obvious, but there were some fine tips.  Pull little feathers towards you, big ones away.  Don't be hesitant; go for handfuls and work briskly or you'll be there all day.  Don't rip the skin; in sensitive areas hold the skin below where you're working gently but firmly and with the other hand pull quickly and vigorously.  Any woman who's waxed will grasp this technique immediately.  Best tip:  If working indoors … which is not really the best idea … spread one bin bag beneath you on the work surface, another hanging from its edge to catch your pluckings, and grease both of them with washing up liquid to snag errant feathers.

While I doubt my marksmanship will ever be accurate enough to shoot my own dinner, I can now accept the largess of hunting friends.

When it comes to cooking, we're too obsessed with the topic for many revelations.  We always take new tips away from classes, however.  Cooking game birds, notoriously quick to dry out, on their sides … thighs to pan … first one side and then the other, before going into the oven gets that dark meat on its way and helps you not to dry out the breast.  Chestnuts make a great, quick chutney that's a tasty side to game; a fine use for the vacuum packs I stocked up on at Christmas.  Add venison bones to your  game bird carcasses when making stock to get a depth the lean birds won't offer alone.

The hands-on part of the day included working with partridge from whole bird to plate, making the chestnut chutney, a parsnip puree and a mushroom duxelles.  The puree recipe depends on butter and cream, of course.  Trying to take the diet seriously, I thought I'd experiment with a simple combo of parsnip, apple and low fat milk.  It didn't look promising, as the milk solids separate into nasty-looking blobs as you simmer everything down.  But blended together it works, and is the sharp, slightly sweet, mouth-filling side you need with game.  It wasn't as tasty or as smooth as my husband's recipe-true high fat version, but it's a passable substitute.

Demonstration and straight instruction included cooking saddle of venison (to go with the duxelles), how to confit pheasant legs, how to deep fry parsnip crisps, how to skin and prep a rabbit and how to make rabbit rillettes.  (I doubt I'll be using my rabbit skills soon because, even in farm shops, it's a rare meat to find in England.  A shame.  It's common in Italy, I've enjoyed it there and I have Italian cookbooks full of tasty recipes.)

We sat down to lunch half-way through the day with the partridge, puree and parsnip crisps, augmented by sprouts and a nice glass of red wine.  The rest of the dishes came home with us.

And this is why Newlyns beats any other course I've been on, hands down.  In addition to our fine lunch, we walked away with two more meals for the freezer:  haunch of venison with mushroom duxelles and pheasant breast with confit legs.  And, noticing how my husband was lingering lovingly near the jar of rabbit rillettes as the class broke up, chef Daniel sent that home with us as well.  There are few ways to make my husband happier than to gift him with meats preserved in goose fat.

We'll be back.  But before then, I need to talk my shooting friend into gifting me with a brace from his next outing.  Must practice...