Guinea hen

Eastside Road, Healdsburg, December 3, 2008—

WHEN I WAS A BOY we usually had a few guinea hens among the chickens. I'm pretty sure it was my mother's idea; guinea hens would have appealed to her interest in the unusual as well as her aesthetic sense. I remember their beauty, their elegance — visually: to the ear they were repulsive with their unpredictable shrieks. But it was those that made them practical: whenever they sensed something overhead, a hawk or even a boy's outreached hand, they warned the clueless hens.

Well, that wasn't their only practical value. They were delicious; still are. Apart from goose I don't think there's a more flavorful bird. So today when at our little locavore grocery, The Greengrocer, I saw fresh guinea hens in the meat case, I didn't hesitate. I added a dozen Brussels sprouts, a dozen cipollini (those flat Italian onions), and half a dozen chestnuts to the basket, and the guy behind the counter suggested a pint of stock he'd just made from guinea hen carcasses.

I cut the hen into pieces and browned them in a little bacon fat; then added the quartered onions and a couple of stems of celery and salt, of course. When things were nicely browned I threw in a half bottle of cheap Pinot grigio and maybe half the stock. I roasted the chestnuts in the black iron skillet. Then I cooked a cup of rice. I browned the brussels sprouts and peeled chestnuts in the skillet in little olive oil; then added a few ladles of stock and set them to steaming. It all came together quite nicely.

"Dolcetto" Palmina (Santa Barbara county) 2006