Coffee and the Tree Rat

This blog comes under the realms of the "you couldn't make this stuff up" category, but I swear it is all true.

I was arranging with a friend to organize a squirrel hunt. The deal is that we will hopefully bag a mess of squirrel and the womenfolk (as we call them in Ol' Virginny) will cook up a stew or something. (Those of you who read my blogs on my turkey hunting experiences will understand the hopefully in the previous sentence). Now I was under the impression that squirrel is vermin and as such there is no season, which caused some dissent amongst the group. A quick peruse around the internet proved me wrong and established that for reasons that I cannot comprehend you cannot shoot a squirrel (aka tree rat) outside September 1 to January 31, so we missed it by days.

I was wondering if I was going to be sufficiently gastronomic to eat the little critter (I know the Boss won't) when the following ensued.

A stranger joined in the conversation and although agreeing that the season started on September 1st, mentioned that folk in this area regard the best eating to be had in August and that no one would care too much if one was to start huntin' a little early. Well he seemed to know what the score was so I asked him what the eating was like. He told me that it was like a delicate chicken or perhaps frogs legs. This kind of blew me away, who would have thought that Smalltownians would be connoisseurs of frog’s legs. Then he let us know that his Grandma had eaten squirrel all her life and that she regarded the best part as the brain!

To think that I was feeling squeamish about eating the thigh.

Well it’s Friday and tonight I shall be slipping into the arms of Bacchus on a river of Grolsch courtesy of,

a) Hemmer, Rhoyd and Piles LLP who tipped me out an astonishing $100 on a catering order
b) The scumbags of Kissbotty County (we got the jury lunch order)
c) The Smalltown Development Authority who asked us to cater their meeting today.

God Bless you one and all.