As May arrived, and the cold winter night fell, the mist would hover over the damp grass not yet frosted, and my father would arrive home from his evening duck-shooting. We would run out to see how he did that day, and look at the different feathers on the ducks, as Dad explained whether they were ducks or drakes, and what type of ducks they were. Then we would retreat inside, to the warm kitchen where a hearty meal of roast wild duck with its gamey delicious meat, a rich dark gravy, roast potatoes (crispy in duck fat) and pumpkin and parsnips, awaited. If we were lucky, it would be followed by a fluffy ginger steamed pudding. With custard. Duck shooting season was all about the food.
Dinner
Well, the fluffy ginger steamed pudding sounds delicious
you are so dang cute!
Wonderful photo, and I am lusting after the meal, so fabulously described.
Thanks!
I have a photo of Mike at about age 10 dressed in camo, tired, holding the dead geese from the day’s hunting. Every time we see a V of geese heading somewhere or see some, fat and lazy, on a golf course or business park, he points and says in the dialect of home, ‘Them’s good eatin.”