Cooking With LSP - Quail Poppers

 

Cooking with LSP? Excuse me? Hold fire, skeptics, this is how it's done. Go out and shoot some quail, then congratulate yourself on a "mixed bag." Put the birds in the freezer. Narnia over, remove the quail, defrost and place side by side on a cutting board with jalapenos.

A remarkable thing, and reverie over, slice the peppers in half, scoop out the seeds without wiping your eyes in an attempt to see better, and fill those empty beasts with cream cheese. 

Next up, cut the meat from the quail breasts, embed avian goodness in the cream cheese filled peppers and wrap those delicious morsels in bacon. Then put 'em in the oven at 400* until they're crisp and ready for action. They should look something like this:

But there's no rule. Fall upon those bad boys when you're ready and eat that scoff.

Yes, like a Warrior,

LSP

Hunt 'Em Up!

Some of the Birds and a Couple of 20s

There's a method to it. Three pointers surge and bound through the long grass ahead of you, followed by an equally bounding spaniel. They're excited to be on the hunt for birds and so are you, shotgun in hand.

First point. Two dogs stand stand stock still on either side of a patch of cover and the spaniel leaps forward. "Hunt 'em up!" urges the guide and that's just what the dog does, going into the grass after the bird which erupts into the air like a rocket. Shoot! And it's bird down, good shot, CB.

Bishop Exultant

This repeated itself for the rest of the morning, pheasant, partridge and quail rising bravely into the 20 gauge flak storm. I wasn't desperately impressed with my shooting but connected with the avian adversary well enough. 

To be honest, I was wary of shooting a dog (!, some do...) and pretty rusty. CB did better and it goes to show the value of a good warm up on clays the day before. We probably should've shot twice the mixed bag we did but regardless, huge fun.

A Typical Scene at the Lodge. Note Keepers Tweed

Afterwards we fell back to the lodge which was all go with returning hunting parties, guides, ATVs, dogs and general magnificence. Then, on the heels of a short exeat in asset stripped Ranger, we went out again, for an exotic spot and stalk. Aoudad, Impala, Axis, Blackbuck, Gemsbok, Oryx and more; big fun and it gets the adrenaline up. Good training for the real thing.

The evening was spent around the fires of  Greystone Castle and the talk was on Mazarin, Richelieu, the repellent Macron, but mostly 15thC Florentine power politics and hermeticism. 

Hermetic

CB, who knows the arcana, tells me that Hermes Trismegistus is a Persian forgery as opposed to a translation from the Egyptian. If so, it still throws light on magic in antiquity at around the time of Christ, and it was burgeoning. 

That in mind, Origen Contra Celsus makes the point that since Christ the magic doesn't work anymore. A common feature of Christian apologetic at the time and one which, as far as I know, wasn't disputed by the pagans. The demons were vanquished. 

The Illuminati Demons Struck This Town

Will they return? St. John the Divine, the Apostle, and Jesus Himself seem to suggest they will and I'd argue we're beginning to see the resurgence. Time, of course, will tell.

The other hunters were intrigued by the conversation, har har, but became respectful when they discovered CB had shot a 193" buck the day before. Not shabby at all. I saved face, massively, by coming from Hillsboro, which is hardcore by anyone's standards.

Out in the Field

The next day dawned all too soon and it was time for me to head back to Hill County and then Dallas to fix lights on the tree, and CB to fly off to Connecticut and the world of Old Masters. And I have to say, what  a lot of fun.

Outstanding enjoyment at every level and a cooler full of bird to boot; I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. Big thanks to our guide, Hans, who was excellent, and most of all to CB for the invite. Great result. 

Greystone Castle, in Texas

If you can, check out Greystone Castle. I tell you without reservation, you will enjoy it.

Hunt 'em up!

LSP

When The Man Comes

One of our churchmen died early today of a heart attack. It was sudden and a shock; we'd been talking only yesterday and he seemed in excellent health, promising to bring some quail to Mass this evening. "You might want to bring a small cooler!" he said, and that's what I was getting ready to do when I received the news.

I got on the 'phone and one man, who I respect very much, said, "When the Man calls, you gotta go." There's no arguing with that.

My friend had been an explosives person in SE Asia and carried on the lifestyle into the '80s, finishing up in Uzbekistan before becoming a civilian contractor, most recently in Afghanistan. He'd retired here to raise quail, grow herbs and be midway between his children and grandchildren. 

He was a good man and a committed Christian.

LJ, rest in peace and rise in glory. You will be badly missed.

LSP

You Plinker!

Some say that a dinner of roast quail and venison sausage, rifle to table, helps you shoot better the next day at the range. I drove out into the Texan countryside with my philisophical pal, GWB, to find out.

We took along a couple of scoped Ruger .22s, an American and a 10/22, representing the bolt and the semi side of the rimfire world. And a couple of pistols, a Sig and a Glock, chambered for 9mm and .45. But what about the quail and venison theory of marksmanship, how did that stand up, in the real world?

If a metal kettle, a plastic Folgers container, steel plates and turkey, at 75 and 100 yards, are anything to go by, the theory holds true. Down went the opposition, with a vengeance. I claim the best pistol shot of the day, hitting the kettle at 75 yards with the Glock. Sorry, kettle, you lose. I never much liked you anyway.

Shoot over, GWB wanted to check out the land behind the range for what he calls "native Texan grasses." That excitement over, I spotted a piece of metal, shining in the hot spring sun. "Look at that, you see it, glinting in the sun?" I asked my Wittgensteinian ally, "Maybe it's a piece of UFO debris. Let's have a look."

It wasn't a bit of space junk, annoyingly, just an old air conditioner that someone had dumped. And as I reflected on the higher implications of that, a long rattlesnake uncoiled silently from beneath the rusting metal and made its way, gliding and deadly, into a nearby pipe. Moral of the story?

Quail and venison help you shoot. This is now settled science. Also, don't be a dimwit when you go for a nature ramble in Texas, it's not Devon, or the Cotswolds. Take a gun, you might need it, and be careful poking around in space junk, who knows what killers might lurk within.

Shoot straight,

LSP