Anyhow, to our surplus boys.
This year I realised I could tell male from female chicks early. This gave us the chance to harvest the male birds before they became too chewy. Our first spring clutch this year had a poor hatch, only 5 chicks, but among them were only 2 boys. Yesterday they met their end. It was heart wrenching, it always is, a little bit gory, a little bit fascinating for the kids to watch the gutting of the birds and identify all of the organs and their functions, and ultimately delicious. As I write, the bones of the birds we roasted last night are in the stock pot for soup, and some tasty scraps of flesh I gleaned from the frames will be cooked in a little of the stock with carrots, spuds and herbs, and used to make pies for lunch.
I got a little carried away with instagram, recording and sharing our day. So here is a little photo log of a tasty rooster cull. Please don't judge me by my photography, it's all snapped with my phone in the middle of a busy afternoon!
|Very mixed feelings about preparing dinner. Local, tasty & sad.|
|Mise en pluck. I experimented with dry plucking versus scalding.|
The dry plucked bird had more supple skin, easier to loosen and slip herb butter underneath,
but some disconcerting, black feather stumps remained.
|Feet & gizzards to make stock for gravy. Hearts (yum!) & livers for buttery, sagey entree.|
|Mexican tarragon, Spanish thyme to flavour Dutch Barnevelder teen rooster.|
Very cosmopolitan dinner.
|And there's these from the garden....|
Apart from butter, bread and salt, dinner is all from here!
|Except for this....!|
|Rooster liver & crispy sage.|
|And the rest of him... Peace can return to the chook run.|