Breakfast on the Unicorn, or Pop Goes the Weevil

The reference to Spatch-cocked Rat appears in PRICE OF GLORY to be published by Hodder Headline in the UK in spring, 2010.

‘I am told you are the best rat-catcher aboard the ship, Mr Lamb,’ remarked the first lieutenant as he helped himself to the kidneys, ‘and that you keep them in a cage, like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, to fatten them up with weevils for times of famine.’
Lamb blushed and shot a fierce glance at his fellow to see if he blushed in turn and revealed himself an informer.
‘When I was a midshipman aboard the old Hermes I used to serve them spatch-cocked with a bread sauce,’ remarked Nathan with a distant air. ‘It was condemned as effeminate by my critics but held by the majority to be superior in every way to the straight, roasted variety cooked upon a spit.’
This information reduced the company to a thoughtful silence for a moment until Dr McLeish diverted them with a discourse on the superiority of rat’s meat to rabbit, the latter being confined to eating grass while the rat’s diet was usually more varied and when fed upon grain or rice quite delicious.
‘I once ate a Spanish dish called a paella,’ he disclosed, ‘which was a mess of rice and peace flavoured with rata de marjal - which loosely translated means rat of the wetlands. I would very much recommend it,’ he informed Mr Lamb, ‘for your next experiment in the culinary arts.’
Not to be outdone, Mr Duncan, regaled them with a story of when he had shipped some Russian troops in the Black Sea and observed them scraping the tallow from the bottom of the lanterns and rolling it into small balls which they would swallow and wash down with a drink of vodka.
‘They were the dirtiest troops I ever saw,’ he said. ‘They would pick the vermin off each other’s jackets and eat them quite composedly as if it was the most natural thing in the world.’
This led to a discussion on the merits of weevils which were said to be at their finest when the biscuit which they inhabited was at an advanced age of decay and crumbled into dust when tapped upon the table. The smaller sort were widely held to be easier to digest than the larger variety known as boatmen, their fat white bodies and black heads being somewhat off-putting to the more delicately-minded unless, as Mr Tully observed, you closed your eyes and thought of whelks.
‘I have never eaten a weevil,’ McLeish remarked to great astonishment. ‘What does it taste like?’
‘Cold,’ replied Mr Duncan after some consideration. ‘And bitter.’
‘But quite succulent,’ added Mr Lamb in the interests of accuracy.
‘Hence the expression, Pop goes the weevil,’ contributed McLeish miming the action of squishing one between finger and thumb.
Nathan saw Signor Grimaldi push aside his oatmeal in distaste but the rest of the company settled down to their feast with every appearance of complacency. He was about to start upon his own when he heard the faint shout of Sail ho! from the tops but it was a routine-enough alert in the Mediterranean and Holroyd, who had the watch, would let him know soon enough if it was of any consequence.
‘When was you in the Black Sea, Mr Duncan?’ he ventured, being desirous of drawing out the lieutenant whenever the occasion presented itself, for he was still something of an unknown quantity aboard the Unicorn. ‘And how was it that you came to be shipping Russians?’
‘I was in the Russian service for a time,’ replied Duncan, ‘during the war with the Turk.’ He clearly enjoyed the sensation this caused. ‘I was then a lieutenant upon half pay,’ he explained, when pressed, ‘and as it was a time of peace I was permitted by the Admiralty to enrol in the Russian Black Sea fleet as a volunteer. I served aboard the flagship Vladimir under the American admiral, John Paul Jones, who caused us such mischief during the last war. He had by then transferred his services to the Russians and was a great favourite with the Empress Catherine who declared that he would get her to Constantinople before the year was out. But unfortunately this aroused the antagonism of her lover, Prince Potemkin, who assailed his private character with allegations of sexual misconduct and had him dismissed.’
This was all very exotic for the captain’s table of the Unicorn and the company was reduced to silence for a while, save for the sound of midshipmen’s jaws continuing their remorseless advance.
‘And was you ever in action against the Turk?’ asked Tully with interest.
A snort from Mr Anson, who was susceptible to the giggles and for some reason seemed to find this amusing. He pretended to have choked upon a sausage and Mr Lamb, who was aware of his weakness and encouraged it whenever possible, patted him solicitously upon the back.
‘Regrettably I was not,’ replied Duncan, ‘being taken with the dysentery off Yevpatoria and I was like to be shite for the kites, as the Khazaks say…’ a strangled cry from Mr Anson… ‘had I not been shipped home in an English vessel we encountered off Sevastopol.’
Nathan suspected the first lieutenant of playing to the gallery for both young midshipmen were now thoroughly discomposed. He wondered if it was bad for discipline but decided he was getting old. He was contemplating whether he should have a second helping of the bacon and sausage or move directly on to the preserves when young Quinn entered with Mr Holroyd’s compliments and he was very sorry to interrupt the captain’s breakfast but thought he should come up on deck to look upon a sail that was giving him cause for concern.

Recipe for Spatchcocked Rat with Bread Sauce

I had an email from my american publisher yesterday telling me to get blogging, so this is my first blog. It is a recipe for Spatch-cocked Rat with Bread Sauce which Nathan learned as a midshipman in the gunroom of HMS Hermes in 1783 - the last year of the American War of Independence. He refers to it in a conversation over dinner in the latest Seth Hunter novel, PRICE OF GLORY, to be published in the UK by Hodder Headline in Spring 2010 and subsequently in the United States by McBooks.
To make Spatchcocked Rat first catch your rat. This can be done in a number of ways which will be described in a subsequent blog.
Next singe over a candle flame to rid the skin of fur and any impurities
Next cut off the paws to rid the animal of its claws, wash thoroughly, and then split the rat from tail to chin, removing the entrails which you may set to one side for use in the sauce.
Next spread the rat out on a flat surface and beat flat with a belaying pin or similar object to crush the bones, taking this opportunity to remove the teeth which you may discard.
Insert a sharp skewer in the posterior of the rat and out through the chin and roast over flame until it is well cooked.
To make the sauce:
Wash the entrails in salt water and then chop very finely and crush in a stone mortar.
Add such flavourings as you can obtain, such as a pinch of pepper, mace and a little vinegar.
Add broken biscuit or stale bread.
Boil for a few minutes and simmer, stirring frequently, for a further half hour.
Pour the bread sauce over roasted rat and serve immediately.