10 Reasons to Move By Sea

You've got your visa--well done!--and now, inevitably, it's time to consider how to get to the UK. You have two choices: fly on any number of airlines leaving regularly from every major airport in the US, or board the luxury liner Queen Mary 2 for a leisurely 7-day crossing. My husband flew; I sailed. Here's why I think the ship is the way to go:


1. Comfort. You've flown coach recently, right? It sucks, even on the good airlines. Seats are cramped even for the short and slender, there's going to be a line for the lilliputian bathroom, and inevitably a child will start crying while you're trying to sleep. Now, maybe you're rich enough to shell out thousands of dollars for a business or first class seat. Good for you. But a lot of us don't have that kind of cash and get stuck in the back. Compare this to the idea of sleeping in an actual bed, enjoying afternoon tea in a fancy restaurant, stretching your legs on a deck instead of an aisle, and having your every whim catered to by attentive staff members. No contest.

2. Food glorious food! Airline food gets a bad rap, and while I don't think it tends to be quite so awful as most comedians make it out to be, it's still not something you'd choose if you had any other options. You wouldn't buy that kind of food on the ground, is what I'm saying. Food on the ship was delicious and catered to every taste and dietary need. Why choke down gummy tortellini at 3000 feet when you can enjoy surf and turf and creme brulee while looking out at the Atlantic Ocean rolling by?

3. No luggage limits. More and more airlines are charging customers for daring to actually bring some luggage along, and overhead bins seem to be getting tinier (either that, or everyone's bags are getting much, much bigger). Technically, you can only take as much luggage onto the ship as will "comfortably fit in your stateroom," but those staterooms have a surprising amount of storage space. You can bring a lot, and someone will actually carry it for you. Delightful!

4. Enlightenment. For those who want to broaden their minds, the ship offers lectures given by college professors on every journey. On mine, we had a naval expert, a forensics expert, a historian, and a codebreaking expert on board, all giving fascinating talks on their area of expertise. If you're more the self-directed type, the ship also has a lovely and rather well-stocked library on board. Some journeys also feature plays performed by students at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts in London.

5. You can bring your pets. The reason I ended up on the ship was because of our two dogs, who have health problems that made flying impossible. The only other way to get them to the UK was to book them into the QM's kennels, which are comfortable, fastidiously clean, and staffed full-time by a kennel master. Owners can visit their babies four times a day and cool their heels in the adjoining sitting room (which is stocked with tea and water). There's a private deck area where the dogs can stretch their legs, and you can order up pretty much any food you want for your pampered pooch from the ship's kitchens. The pets also get souvenir water and food bowls and a professional photo taken in their lifejackets. And all this is actually cheaper than flying them. Go figure.

6. It might make good financial sense. When we started looking into plane tickets for me, we were startled by how much they cost. When we started looking at the cost of a basic inside cabin, we discovered that it was actually around the same price as the plane ticket. And you get so much more for it (see above). If you consider the cost of shipping all the luggage you're actually able to bring with you on the ship, it might wind up being less expensive for you to board the Queen Mary than it would be to fly to the UK.

7. It's an experience. How many people in this day and age can say they've sailed across the Atlantic? You have to admit, it sounds pretty cool. And it's a marvelous experience--the ship's beautiful, the service is top-notch, and the amenities seem endless.

8. No jetlag. One of the worst things about flying overseas is the day (or two) you lose to jetlag when you arrive. This is not the time to be exhausted and fuzzy-headed--you've got work ahead of you and it helps to be sharp. If you sail, you compensate for the time changes by setting your clocks ahead an hour almost every night. No big deal. You arrive in Southampton refreshed, well-fed (you get breakfast before disembarking) and ready to face your next challenge.

9. No lines when you arrive. Along with your jetlag, you usually have to deal with huge lines at immigration, baggage claim, and sometimes even security when you arrive by air. This sucks. Immigration is handled onboard the ship, a couple of days into the voyage, a handful of passengers at a time, so wait time is minimal there, and when you arrive at your destination, you just disembark, grab your luggage (which is waiting for you) and head out. No lines, no waiting, no hassle. Brilliant.

10. You deserve a vacation. You've just been through a very stressful time, and you're going to be facing quite a bit of stress as you settle in across the pond. This is an excellent time to treat yourself to a break. Take your seven days, enjoy the complimentary champagne in your cabin, try new foods, treat yourself to a massage at the spa, work off your overindulgences in the excellent onboard gym, meet some new people, catch a show, chill with your loved ones. Seriously, you deserve it.

Missy

Four years ago, we adopted a pair of Blenheim King Charles Spaniels: Missy and Molly. It was the second big step toward really cementing our relationship and declaring to the world that we intended for this one to last (the first was moving in together). We got them from a rescue when they were five years old; the first time we met them, the littler of the two ran over to me and promptly draped herself across my lap, wagging her tail and smiling up at me in that doggy way. That was Missy.

After we brought them home, the girls chose their favorites. Molly, bold, a little pushy, and always wanting to be the centre of attention, was drawn to her daddy. Missy, small, timid, dainty, and affectionate was my little girl. She'd lie under my desk while I worked or wrote, glancing up every now and then to make sure I was still there. She'd drape across my lap while I watched costume dramas. She'd sit in a corner of the kitchen while I puttered around, eyes bright, ears up, hoping for a treat (which I almost always gave her).

Missy died on Saturday.

The heart problems which have plagued both dogs (not unusual for the breed) hit Missy harder than her more robust sister. While Molly's been on the same dosage of medication since the day she was diagnosed two years ago, Missy's dosages had to increase steadily, until she was taking as much diuretic as a full-grown human being. Over the past few months, her weight dropped alarmingly, until she was skin and bones, unable to put any weight on, even though she was still eating. She was too frail to go for walks anymore, or to even go up or down more than a few stairs--she had to be carried. Lying down comfortably became difficult, so she'd doze sitting up, like an old lady in front of the telly. But she still followed me into the kitchen, and she still spun happily, though more slowly than she used to, when she was excited about something. Her appetite was still good, and she still loved her little treats.

My goals for her became short-term. By March, when my husband left for Edinburgh, I just prayed she wouldn't take such a steep nosedive I'd have to have to take her to be put down all by myself. I'd never done that before, and I'm emotional. I didn't know if I'd even be able to manage the short drive to the vet's office on my own if I was crying that much. I just hoped to get her to Edinburgh in one piece, and I did. And here, she did a bit better for a little while. Our new vet tried her on a different diuretic which seemed to help her. She had more energetic days and even managed to go to the park a couple of times. She was happy.

Saturday capped off a rather good week for her. The weather had been nice on Wednesday, so I took both dogs up to Inverleith Park. She couldn't manage the walk, so I carried her, telling myself it was a good arm workout, even though she was down to only 6kg by then, less than half the weight of her sister. At the park, she sat down in the grass and sniffed the air and greeted a couple of dogs that came her way. Then, worn out, she slept the rest of the day.

On Saturday, she ate her dinner as usual, and begged for some of mine. Afterwards, my husband headed off to read The Hunger Games while I parked myself in front of the telly for Call the Midwife. The dogs settled down at my side. After a peaceful half hour, I suddenly heard Missy hit the floor with a thump. I glanced over and, from the way she was lying, I knew what had happened. I leaped over the sofa arm and knelt beside her just as she expelled her last breath. I burst into tears and ran to get my husband. For him--a man who used to work in a hospital--instinct kicked in and he tried CPR, even as I wailed that it was too late, and she was gone. And she was, that was clear. The limp, wasted little body wasn't my dog anymore. Her eyes had none of her sweetness and warmth. There was nothing there.

We called the vet's emergency line and they told us to bring her in. The body was wrapped in her blanket and a cab was called. What must the poor cabbie have thought of the two hollow-eyed people who met him on our step, one still crying, the other holding a tiny bundle in both arms?

At the 24-hour surgery, a nurse met us at the door and quickly took the bundle away. We made arrangements, paid for the cremation, and declined their offer to spend more time with the body. What purpose would it serve? That wasn't my girl anymore. The nurse who had taken her returned and silently handed me her collar with a sympathetic smile. I burst into tears all over again, thinking of how loose it had become on her little neck in those last few weeks.

I've never had to deal with a pet's death before. The dogs we had when I was small died when I was a toddler; later pets died while I was at college or after I'd moved out of the house. I've certainly never had one die right in front of me, and I've never had to deal with the practicalities that follow such an event. I wondered if I would feel guilty somehow, because I'd dragged her to the park and because we hadn't been home to give her her midday diuretics on Saturday, but I don't feel guilty. A trip to the park didn't lead to her early death, her genetics did. I'm grieving, of course. Even though we knew this was coming, that doesn't make it easier. Little things will set me off, or nothing at all. I teared up running through the park today, and I'm crying a lot as I write this. It's been less than 48 hours and the wound is still very, very raw. But there really is some comfort to be had in the fact that it was so quick and painless. Her heart failed and she died instantly. There was no drawn out period of pain that forced our hands, no long night before the dreaded last trip to the veterinary surgery to stand by and watch the light go out of her eyes. We were all spared that, a fact for which I am grateful.

I'll be crying for a little while--like I told my husband, I'll be leaky for a few days yet, at least. But having Molly is a comfort, and I have a lot of happy memories with little Missler, like how excited she would be when I came home, and how that little tuft of hair would stand up on the back of her head, or how she'd demand to be petted by shoving her head underneath my hand when it was idle for too long. She was loving to the very end. I'll remember her healthy and energetic, barking at dogs three times her size, circling excitedly before her walks, running through my parents' back yard towards me when I got back from vacation. I'll remember her like this:

I think she would have wanted it this way.  

Delicious Discovery: Trotter's Hot Pepper Jelly

My husband likes things spicy. Really spicy. He'll eat scotch bonnet peppers raw. So when he came over here and realized there was a superabundance of pepper jellies that claimed to set your tongue a'tingling, he was excited. And then he tried them and was bitterly disappointed. See, manufacturers don't make jellies for people like my husband. They make them for people who like just a tiny bit of a kick. The ones who order their curries medium and feel really daring and have to drown the taste in naan and rice. We were about ready to throw in the towel and wait for our pepper plants to mature and make our own jelly, but then we discovered Trotter's.

Trotter's took a stall at the Stockbridge Market not long ago, and because we're rather hopeful people, we stopped to try their Hot Pepper Jelly, expecting the usual assault of sweet followed by a tiny hopeful flicker of heat at the end. We were so, so wrong. This jelly doesn't mess around. They make it with scotch bonnets from a recipe founder Byam Trotter's great aunt Dina developed. God bless great aunt Dina. This stuff is fantastic on just about anything--crackers, a bit of cheese, even on sweet items like pancakes and chocolate cake, for those who are more daring. I'm considering stirring a bit into my oatmeal one morning just to see what it'll be like.

For those who really can't handle much spice, it's not an all-out assault, just a shot across the bow, if you will. It's just hot enough to make things interesting, which is more than can be said for most commercially produced hot peppery jellies. The company also produces chutneys (I rather like their "Bloody Shame" Bloody Mary-inspired concoction) and some of the best mostarda I've had outside of Italy. Sensational on cold meats (and also in porridge, according to the man manning the booth at the market).

Trotter's products can be purchased online at foodisan.com (mainland UK only) and peppercornsdeli.co.uk (probably also UK only). You can also find them at several stores throughout Scotland and Northern England.

The Battle of Bannockburn

Freedom! On 23 June 1314, The Battle of Bannockburn, one of the decisive battles of the First War of Scottish Independence, began.

The battle started after King Edward II gathered an enormous force and marched north to relieve Stirling Castle, a strategically important post and the site of several significant battles during the War of Independence. King Robert the Bruce, with his own large force, waited for Edward to come to him just south of Stirling, at the Bannock Burn, concealing his soldiers in the thick forests.

The area had one road that would be able to handle the heavy cavalry the English had brought with them, so naturally Robert had it boobytrapped. One of the English captains, Sir Philip Mowbray, got wind of it and tried to persuade Edward to abandon the battle but Edward persisted, and at any rate, other captains sent ahead were already en route and could not be recalled.

Those captains, the earls of Gloucester and Hereford, attacked, and Hereford’s nephew, Henry de Bohun, went after Robert, who was armed only with a battle-axe to de Bohun’s lance. Not for nothing is Robert the Bruce a legend—he stood up in his stirrups and split de Bohun’s skull in two with the axe, and then later complained about having broken the shaft.

Emboldened by this, Bruce’s forces rushed out to engage the English, who were eventually forced to retreat.

Realizing it wasn’t safe to approach Stirling by the most direct route, Edward ordered his army to cross the Bannock Burn, which brought them right into the wall of Scottish soldiers hiding in the woods. The English, weighed down by heavy armor and equipment, were far less mobile than the Scots, who forced them into disarray. The battle quickly became a rout. The English saw how things were going and started to retreat. Some drowned trying to cross the River Forth; others were crushed in the stampede of men trying to get back across the Bannock Burn. Edward turned and ran, accompanied by his bodyguard and leaving his remaining army without a leader. He eventually reached Dunbar Castle and caught a ship to England. Many of his men were killed on the 90-mile retreat to England. It’s estimated that less than a third of the footsoldiers returned to England, which would mean about 11,000 casualties. Scottish casualties, by comparison, were incredibly light.

The battle didn’t guarantee Scottish independence, but it did make Bruce’s place on the throne more secure. Today, a statue of him stands on the battlefield, which has been inventoried and protected by Historic Scotland.

Steak and Kidney Pie

The first time I ever had steak and kidney pie was at Ffiona's on Kensington Church Street in London. This tiny restaurant is known for its delicious classic English dishes, so I figured if I was going to have the pie anywhere, that was the place to do it. I was so right. After I was done, Ffiona herself (who was waitressing that night--she's a hands-on owner) hurried over and asked me how I'd liked the pie. I told her it was fantastically delicious.

"I'm so glad," she said. "I always ask Americans that order it how they liked it, because usually they don't want to eat anything with organs in. I had one man come in and order it and he absolutely cleaned his plate. When I asked how he liked it, he said it was excellent, but his didn't have any kidney beans!"

The necessaries

Steak: The meat's essentially braised in this dish, so stewing meat works just fine. You can also use meat that's already been cooked--for me this recipe was a way of using up the remainders of our Sunday roast. If you like, you can also use lamb.

Kidneys: Not necessarily easy to find, even over here, but if you have a halfway decent butcher near you, give them a call and see if they can get some for you. It doesn't really matter what kind of kidney you use--I've seen some recipes that call for ox kidneys, others lamb. I used lamb because that's what the butcher had. 3 or 4 of them should do the trick, but you can always use more or less, if you want to.


Stock: I always recommend a good stock when you're cooking. Some people use bouillon cubes, but I find them incredibly salty and fake-tasting. Why ruin a beautiful supper with sub-par ingredients? If you're feeling adventurous, try and get some bones and make your own stock. Our butcher handed me some lamb bones for free, so it never hurts to ask. If you can't find bones, make a vegetable stock--it's super easy, and you probably already have the ingredients in the kitchen anyway. Otherwise, grab a decent pre-made stock from the grocery. Beef is best for a true steak and kidney pie, but I used lamb stock because that's what I had and that worked just fine. And a vegetable stock would work as well; it just wouldn't have a very robust flavor.

Steak and Kidney Pie
1 lb stewing beef (or lamb, if you want to do a lamb and kidney pie)
3-4 lamb's kidneys
40g plain flour
cooking oil
knob of butter
250g mushrooms, cleaned and sliced (optional)
1 onion, halved and sliced
1T tomato paste
500 ml stock
3 sprigs thyme
bay leaf
2T Worcestershire sauce
500g puff pastry, chilled
1 egg, beaten

Cut each kidney in half lengthwise. See all that hard white stuff in there? You don't want that--it's like cartilage. Cut it out using either nail scissors or kitchen shears, but try not to completely butcher the kidney while you're at it. If there's any membrane on the outside of the kidney, remove that too. It should peel off fairly easily. Dice the kidneys.

Season a bit of the flour in salt and pepper and dredge the kidneys and the meat (if it's uncooked). Shake off excess flour. Heat some oil in a large saucepan or casserole on the hob over medium. Brown the meat and kidneys in batches and remove to a plate. Once that's done, add a bit more oil if necessary and brown the mushrooms, if you're using them. Set them aside with the meats.

Add the butter to the pan and fry the onions over medium-high heat, until soft and browned. Add the tomato paste and the remaining flour and mix well. Gradually stir in the stock and whisk to break up any lumps. Bring to the boil and stir for a few minutes, until it starts to thicken.

Return the meats and onions to the pan and add the thyme, bay leaf, and Worcestershire sauce. Partially cover and simmer for 1 to 1 1/2 hours, until the meat is tender and the sauce is thickened. Taste and adjust seasoning, if necessary. Set aside to cool a bit, so it doesn't melt the puff pastry.

Scoop the filling into a deep pie dish. Roll out the puff pastry and lay it gently over the filling, trimming around the edge. Cut a few slits in the top for steam to get through and put the pie in the fridge for 20 minutes to cool and firm up.

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees C/180 fan/Gas 6/400 degrees F. Brush the top of the pie with beaten egg and place it in the oven. Slide a baking sheet underneath it to catch any drips. Bake for 30-35 minutes, until the filling bubbles and the top is golden. Let sit for 10-15 minutes so the bubbling starts to calm down and dig in!

Becoming an Expat: The Visa Process

Perhaps the most stressful single aspect of the stressful process that is moving overseas is getting your visa (and visas for any members of your family accompanying you). It's a Kafka-esque hellscape of conflicting information, uncertainty, no communication, and little indication of where you can get any answers from. Good times!

The website you're going to be dealing with a lot is the UK Border Agency. You might think you'll be able to go there for answers and guidance. You'd be wrong. This is perhaps one of the worst, most confusing, most frustrating websites I've ever tried to navigate. Almost every time you try to get a straight answer and think you're going to the place where that answer is, you get punk'd. This website almost made me cry on several occasions. No wonder people sometimes hire specialists to do all this for them.

If you're coming over here to work, you're probably going for a Tier 2 visa. To get said visa, you're going to need a Certificate of Sponsorship (COS) from your employer plus at least 900 pounds in the bank (plus extra, if you have any dependents coming with you). You also need to provide a boatload of personal information and pay a pretty hefty sum ($700 per application, when we applied. And you have to pay that all over again if your application gets rejected).

Let the fun begin!

Once you have your COS, get cracking. According to the Border Agency, it can take up to three months for a visa to be approved and issued (don't panic--most take far less time than that, unless there are some strange complications), so you'll want to get on that. Here's the catch: you can't apply for a visa more than three months before your travel date, and you have to have a firm travel date when you apply. And yet, the Border Agency tells you not to make firm travel plans until the visa has been issued. See what I mean about conflicting information?

In most countries, including the US, you can apply online at visa4uk.com (yes, it is official). Make sure you have a chunk of time set aside for this, because it's a fairly lengthy application, and also be sure to have access to a working printer and all your relevant information (which includes bank details and your parents' dates and places of birth). Fill out the application, pay your hefty fee, print everything out, and make an appointment for your biometrics. This usually takes place at an immigration center in your state's capitol.

When you go to get your biometrics taken, bring along your passport and a printout of your appointment. Ladies, don't bring a purse--you can't take them into the immigration centers. At the center, they'll stamp your appointment sheet, take a picture of you, and take your fingerprints electronically. Make sure you're super relaxed for the fingerprinting or they'll yell at you for moving or pressing too hard. Hang onto that appointment sheet too, because you'll need to send it in with your completed application.

Somewhere in here, you'll also need to get a passport photo and swing by your bank and have them print up, sign, and stamp three months' worth of statements to prove that you're not broke.

Now you get to send off your application. Send it, along with your passport, relevant accompanying documents (a marriage certificate, in my case, since I was going over as my husband's dependent), and your biometrics appointment sheet. If you're in the US, you'll probably be sending all this off to the UK consulate in New York City. Make sure you can track it so you ensure it gets there safely.

Once it arrives, one of two things will happen: they'll send you an e-mail telling you your application has arrived (which usually comes about a day after it's delivered) or they'll wait and send you an e-mail telling you your application is being reviewed (which happens up to a week later). If you don't get the first e-mail, don't panic. My husband got it, but I didn't, so I got all anxious thinking my application had gone missing or something. I got the second one; he didn't. Strange, I know. When we were applying, they were moving through these things pretty fast. Within a day or two of each of us receiving our e-mails, we got word we'd been approved. Hurrah! Your passport with the visa in it will then be overnighted back to you.

For those applying for visas as Tier 2 dependents, there's a bit of a catch: you have to wait for your partner's/parent's visa to arrive before you can apply, because you need to include a scan of their visa in your own application. So, your timeline's even shorter. Luckily for us, my husband was going over a month earlier than I was, so I had a bit of wiggle room, but if you're planning on traveling together, things might be a bit tight.

If you're having trouble with your visa, you have to contact a company called WorldBridge, not the Border Agency. You can call WorldBridge, but that call costs $3 per minute, so I advise using their e-mail inquiry service first. In all likelihood, the only answers you'll get are fairly rote copy, but you never know, you might get lucky. They can't provide any information on pending applications, of course. They can provide you with info on how to get your passport and other documents back in a hurry, if you decide to just cancel your visa application and try again later.

So that's it, the visa application process, somewhat broken down. I hope it helps at least some of you out there avoid pulling your hair out like I did. Best of luck to you all!

Eat a Gray, Save a Red

Eastern gray squirrels are obnoxious little bastards.

It's bad enough that they go after all your birdseed and lawn seed and whatever else they can get their greedy little paws on, but while they're helping themselves to all the food, they're actually killing off a lot of native squirrel populations, like the British red squirrel. They're like locusts, and they don't even belong in this country, they're native to the northeastern United States, so they're essentially wiping out their hosts, and that's just poor etiquette.

In an attempt to curb this ecological curb-stomping, the powers that be have set out to encourage us to eat more squirrel over here. Celebrity chefs have chowed down on the little buggers on their TV shows, and they've started showing up in farmers' markets (including ours, in Stockbridge). Perhaps ironically, food that would be considered backwoods redneck dinner by most people in the U.S. is total yuppie food over here.

And it's delicious.

The wild game and fish stall at the market first had squirrel a few weeks back, and I decided to look into some recipes and get it when it showed up again. This past Thursday, it was back, so I picked one up for 3.95, figuring that if I screwed this up, I'd only have lost 4 pounds. I did not screw it up, happily. Since it's a pretty lean meat (as you would expect) I thought it would be good for stewing, served up with some nice crusty multigrain bread from the baker at the market. Yesterday turned out to be cold and rainy, so I pulled out my squirrel, picked up a couple of extra ingredients and started experimenting. Here's what I came up with.

Mediterranean Squirrel Stew
Serves 2

1 gray squirrel, jointed
Flour
1/2 yellow onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
A few T stock (whatever you have on hand), white wine, or water
1 carrot, peeled and diced
1 rib celery, diced
1 bay leaf
1 14-oz can diced tomatoes with juice (or whole peeled tomatoes, crushed up with your hands)
1 tsp dried oregano or 1T fresh, chopped
1 small, whole hot pepper, like a fingerling
1 potato, sliced fairly thinly
10-20 pitted green olives (optional)

Warm some olive or flavored rapeseed oil (I used the Supernature jalapeno flavor) in a skillet over medium heat. While it's warming, mix some salt and pepper with about 1/4 cup of flour and dredge the squirrel pieces in it, shaking off any excess.

Add the onion and garlic to the pan and saute just until they begin to color. Remove to a soup pot, crock pot, or large saucepan. Add more oil to the pan and brown the squirrel pieces on all sides. Add them to the pot with the onion and deglaze the pan with stock, wine, or water, scraping up any brown bits. Add that to the pot with the squirrel.

Add all remaining ingredients except for the potato and olives. If you're using a pot on the stove, bring the mixture to a boil, cover, lower the heat, and simmer for about an hour to an hour and a half, until the meat's done and coming off the bone easily. If you're using a slow cooker, put all the ingredients in the cooker and cook on high for 4-5 hours or low for 6-8.

Remove the meat and the hot pepper from the stew and set aside to cool a bit. When it's handleable, pull the meat from the bones, taking care to check that any small bits of bone have been removed (squirrel has a lot of little bone bits, so be careful). Return the meat to the pot with the remaining ingredients. Set the hot pepper on a cutting board, cut off the stem end, and run the blunt edge of a kitchen knife up the length of the pepper to squeeze out the seeds and guts. Return these to the pot (Note: if you don't like your food spicy, leave this step out) and discard the pepper skin.

Add the potatoes and olives to the pot, cover, and return to medium heat. Cook until the potatoes are done, about 10-20 minutes, depending on how thick they are. If the stew's rather watery, uncover and cook down for a few minutes over medium heat. Test for seasoning and adjust as necessary (I found I didn't even need to add salt, thanks to the olives). Serve with thick slices of toasted bread for sopping up juices.

Cliche though it sounds, I found that squirrel tastes a lot like chicken, but sweeter. It's quite a lovely meat that could be adapted to just about any chicken recipe, or you could just mess around and make up your own, like I did. If you're in the States, it might be hard to come across squirrel, unless you or someone you know is a really good hunter, but if you have the chance, give it a try, you might be surprised by how much you like it!