The Game Chef: a deep connection to the land

The Game Chef enjoys a day of walked up grouse shooting in Scotland and prepares dishes packed with nature's local bounty.

There comes a moment during your northbound drive on the A9, somewhere between Perth and Pitlochry, and somewhere between the first and second week of August, where the stomach starts to swoop and a great anticipatory energy begins to flood from within, up to the tingling fingers and down to the twitching toes, as you begin to see the first glimpses of the Highlands proper. For, as any country sportsman knows, a holy kind of magic is bound within the tarmacadam of that sacred stretch of speed cameras.

You can imagine then, after four years' denial, just how vehemently the anticipation of a day's walked up grouse on the hill bubbled through my veins. There is quite simply no other form of game shooting that fulfils so many of those attributes that make me love the sport so much, for in every aspect of this humblingly noble pursuit one is immersed in that crucial element that is so often elusive with driven shooting – connection.

Connection with the quarry, connection with the land, connection with the people, connection with the dogs, with the flora, the fauna, the craft, the body, the mind, the skill, the understanding, and the hill.

And so it was that I arrived at my destination with great expectations and was warmly greeted by an eye-smiling Scotsman with the sort of look about him that would give you unbridled faith in his weather predictions.

We all, as a team, knew that this was to be a building block year for the grouse, where hopefully the previous year's shortcomings could, somewhere in between, meet the following year's relative bounty, and so followed a day of measured yet unfounded joy. Working over expert Gordon Setters, while we walked and set we learnt from their handlers their habits, their abilities and their methods so based on time and heritage. We learnt from the keeper about the changing moorland, the changing ways and the changing people. Then during lunch at the bothy we learnt from the keeper's wife about how the pressures and the strains placed on their way of life that we so often read about are having a very physical effect on an existence that still supports so much of what is lost to so many in this country; that of community, of integrity, accountability and of working for a future that they themselves will neither see nor benefit from.

And this is the connection I love the most, even more than that of the sharing a piece and a dram amongst friends on the hill, or the mixed pang of joy and relief as my shot carries home and folds a bird, because this understanding of how many lives, landscapes and livelihoods are entwined with the sport is what makes me want to fly the flag ever higher, and if as a chef, cooking is my flagpole and the dish is my flag, then the print on my flag must be game.

For the duration of the morning we worked in pairs of guns flanking the handler, with one setter quartering 30-40 yards ahead. What poetry to see these powerful beasts dancing over the rough moorland as if it were a cricket pitch! So trusted were the noses of these fine animals that we walked empty, only loading the barrels at that lightning flash of a moment when the dog went on point, at which time it felt as if both everything and nothing was happening all at once – when one is so incredibly alert to every movement and sound yet the world seems to stand still and silent as the dog stalks intently forwards, every muscle in the great hound's body as tense as the atmosphere around it, each step as light as a ballet dancer… until – Boom! The birds explode almost from the end of its muzzle, and your thoughts and movements are nothing but animalistic and automatic. We swapped guns and dogs after each bird was taken, and headed to the lunch hut with a few brace around the belts.

There can be no bird whose flesh is more evocative of the land in which it lives and the diet on which it dines than the grouse, and quite aside from other game birds, which I prefer post a little hanging, a grouse which is truly fresh from the hill, like a mackerel straight from the sea, is a very special thing indeed. So it was that we lit a small fire in the heather over lunch, the smoke helping to keep the midges at bay. Just as I like to prepare a little ceviche with my fresh mackerel, I decided to make a little grouse tartare with some of the wild blaeberries that were in abundance under foot. To follow this, and as time was not long, I spatchcocked a couple of grouse for the fi re, smoking them over the heather. A little saucepan was fashioned out of an old baked bean tin that was found in the bothy, and a sauce made with whisky from the hip flasks and wild cherries found on the journey to the hill. We finished the day walking in line, which proved less productive, perhaps due to our senses being somewhat blunted over lunch, but to end the day with not only grouse in our tummies but a deeper understanding of the land on which we stood, and the people who lived upon it, that was a very special day indeed.

GROUSE TARTARE WITH BLAEBERRIES AND WALNUTS

The dressing for this tartare begins to slightly cure the meat and is best left for half an hour or so in the fridge for the flavours to marry. Served with some thin toasts it is excellent as a starter or indeed canapé. If you can't find wild blaeberries, shop bought would work well too.

Serves 4

• 4 grouse breasts, finely chopped into tiny dice
• 3 tbsp crushed walnuts
• 1 stick of celery, finely diced
• 1tsp salt

For the dressing:

• 50g blaeberries
• 200ml apple cider vinegar
• 3 tbsp honey
• 1tsp salt
• ½tsp pepper
• 2 tbsp olive oil

To make the dressing, place the cider vinegar into a pan and boil to reduce by half, add the honey and boil again for a further minute.

Remove from the heat, then add the seasoning and the blaeberries. Return to the heat to bring up to the boil, then remove and allow to cool. Mix the grouse, celery and walnuts in a bowl.

Whisk the olive oil into the blaeberry liquor, then add to the grouse mixture. Taste to adjust seasoning.

Allow to infuse for half an hour or so in the fridge before serving, garnishing with a few celery leaves and more crushed walnuts.

HEATHER SMOKED GROUSE WITH WHISKY AND WILD CHERRY SAUCE

I have never seen so many fruits and berries, of all kinds, as were bending the boughs and branches this year. En route to the day's shooting we passed some cherry trees so laden they appeared more red than green, so of course we had to stop to fill a few bags. Fortunately, there were still a few left to use with the grouse up on the hill! Again, shop bought will make a decent substitute in this recipe. I cooked the grouse over a heather fire on the hill, which is wonderfully aromatic, but at home, you can achieve a similar effect by adding a few heather sprigs underneath the grouse while they grill.

Serves 4

• 4 grouse, spatchcocked by removing the backbone and pressing flat
• Olive oil
• Salt and pepper
• A few sprigs of heather (optional)

For the sauce:

• 200ml apple cider vinegar
• 100ml honey
• 4 tbsp whisky
• 250g cherries, stones removed
• 1tsp salt
• ½tsp pepper
• 150g chilled unsalted butter, cut into inch dice

Rub the grouse with the olive oil, then season well with salt and pepper. Set aside. To make the sauce, put the cider vinegar into a pan and boil to reduce by half, add the honey, 3 tbsp whisky and bring to the boil again for one minute. Add the cherries, and boil for a further minute. The liquid should be the consistency of fruit cordial by this point, if your cherries were particularly juicy and it is still quite watery, boil to reduce a little more. Then set aside – this can be done up to a day in advance.

Preheat the grill to its highest setting.

If you are using the heather, place this onto the grill pan, with the grouse on top, with a few fronds poking out so as they will char and smoke.

Place the grouse under the grill for 7-9 minutes, depending on size, then remove and set aside, loosely covered with foil, to rest for 5 minutes.

While the grouse is resting, finish the sauce. Bring back to a gentle simmer, and whisk in the butter, only adding a new piece once the other has emulsified, until it is all well incorporated, and you have a thick, rich, glossy sauce.

Put the grouse on the plate, spooning over copious quantities of sauce.

Words by Tom Godber-Ford Moore

Image credit: Kirk Norbury