You catch the ortolan with a net spread up in the forest canopy. Take it alive. Take it home. Poke out its eyes and put it in a small cage. Force-feed it oats and millet and figs until it has swollen to four times its normal size. Drown it in brandy. Roast it whole, in an oven at high heat, for six to eight minutes. Bring it to the table. Place a cloth—a napkin will do—over your head to hide your cruelty from the sight of God. Put the whole bird into your mouth, with only the beak protruding from your lips. Bite. Put the beak on your plate and begin chewing, gently. You will taste three things: First, the sweetness of the flesh and fat. This is God. Then, the bitterness of the guts will begin to overwhelm you. This is the suffering of Jesus. Finally, as your teeth break the small, delicate bones and they begin to lacerate your gums, you will taste the salt of your own blood, mingling with the richness of the fat and the bitterness of the organs. This is the Holy Spirit, the mystery of the Trinity—three united as one. It is cruel. And beautiful.
Well played, Alan Smithee.
How interesting!
The commentary of its possible origin is even more bizarre… http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/Content?oid=297191
polenta e uccelli (polenta with songbirds) is a food speciality in the area of Bergamo in Northern Italy. Imagine my surprise when it was served at a restaurant I was at during a visit there.
What is the point of removing its eyes while it is still alive?
Does it have something to do with the God/Jesus metaphor?
Maybe that’s so it can’t ID you when you show up at the pearly gates.
The point, of course, is to swallow the bird to catch the spider.
The birds were roasted whole at the restaurant I was at in Bergamo. I doubt they acted esp cruelly w/regard to their eyes. don’t know where that came from.