A GODLESS DELICACY: ORTOLAN BUNTING

BY ELEANOR NGUYEN

Sinfully delicious and divinely hedonistic, this dish is so decadent, so cruel and so covetous that its very creation is starkly prohibited.

When deciding what animal products are the best, the common conception typically centres around the life quality of the animal it came from. You want to buy free-range eggs and ethically sourced meat— relaxed animals tend to be less chewy than the stressed ones—and there are, of course, moral arguments to be had. However, sometimes being mindful of the moral and ethical—even legal—boundaries can be tiring and tedious. Sometimes you want to indulge in a purely selfish feast, regardless of the suffering your meal underwent.

Sometimes, the suffering makes it taste better.

May I introduce, to the distinguished diner, ortolan bunting: a dish hailing from the Roman Empire, so selfishly indulgent and deliciously cruel, the very act of consuming it must be hidden from God.

The ortolan bunting, or Emberiza hortulana, is a tiny Eurasian migratory bird around 16-17 cm long with a wingspan between 23-29 cm. This sweet little songbird subsists mainly off of seeds and the occasional insect, and travels through West Asia, Europe and even up past the Arctic circle. They are less common in the UK, however, due to France’s delightfully callous delicacy of the same name.

Now, the transition from the musical little bundles of joy sometimes referred to as ‘little fairy’ buntings to the sinfully succulent meal it’s known for is no painless process—one could argue that it is in fact a very painful process. After being caught in nets over their autumnal migratory flight from Eastern Europe to West Africa, the ortolans are placed in dark cages. The darkness causes the little bird to gorge itself on grain until it doubles in size—the same effect is said to be possible if the ortolan is blinded, which is not standard but surely the most fun.

Once it has become fat, bloated, helpless and potentially (hopefully) blind, the ortolan is then tied upside down on the end of a string and lowered into a pool of Armagnac brandy to marinate while it fruitlessly struggles and drowns.

They are then plucked, seasoned and cooked in their own fat for seven short minutes; they’re simply so small and meatless that they roast that quickly.

The dining experience is similarly taboo. To begin with, those partaking in tradition dine with a cloth that covers their head, face and the plate before them; the delicacy is so gluttonously decadent that it’s rumoured that patrons cover their face to hide their sins from God.

“...so gluttonously decadent that it’s rumoured patrons covered their face to hide their sins from God.”

Or because it captures the aroma, therefore enhancing the taste, which is the answer for cowards.

The dish is served hot and whole. Holding it by its fragile head, the entire ortolan is placed in the mouth, feet first, and eaten in one large bite, leaving just the beak behind. It’s said that the burst of flavour from the popping organs, the sizzling fat and the textual crunch of its tiny, hollow bones make it a divine indulgence of no equal comparison.

Ortolan bunting has long been a favoured meal among the rich and adventurous. The former president of France, François Mitterrand, had a notoriously gluttonous ‘last meal’ before his death in 1995: it involved not one but two ortolan buntings. It was also said to be the favourite food of António Egas Moniz— the inventor of the lobotomy. Of course, this doesn’t say much about the actual taste, but it does say something about the mindset of an ortolan bunting connoisseur.

Of course, all good things must come to an end— spoiled, in this case, by petty concerns such as ‘the endangerment of the species’ and ‘moral and ethical complications’ and ‘it’s approximately three to five kinds of illegal according to the European Union (EU)’.

Alas, due to some … perhaps overzealous hunting, the ortolan population saw a significant drop in numbers, prompting France itself to ban the poaching of the bird in 1999.

Fortuitously, though, eating this decadent delicacy is not impossible; despite how illegal it is to get the ingredients, cook the meal, serve the meal and, indeed, even eat it, ortolan bunting is still possible on the down low, especially in the south of France.

Yes, although there have been attempts to better enforce the ban on this legally and ethically dubious—but assuredly delicious—dish, we heathens that care not for the suffering of birds, nor the judgment of God, are aided by these poor regulations.

Law against poaching was so badly enforced that the Committee Against Bird Slaughter launched an official protest against France to the EU about it in 2013, which changed very little. Hunters still regularly call for the killing of their quarry to be legalised, as their individual haul is ‘insignificant’ in the face of the larger population. Additionally, despite an 88% drop in population between 1980 and 2016, ortolan bunting is still not considered an endangered species, merely a protected one.

However, even with France dragging its feet as much as possible—only banning it 20 years after the EU did, then only making any effort to enforce that ban in 2007 (and not all that well)—restrictions have indeed been getting tighter and tighter as the years go by. Not only that, but the ortolan buntings themselves may not be around forever (the cowards). Extinction is coming for them, and even if the poaching stopped altogether—which would double their survival chances—it may not be enough (pathetic).

The greatest tragedy of all this is that it significantly lowers your chances of getting a good, fairly-priced delicacy of ortolan bunting in the future. Which is a truly terrible fate, and, of course, the worst outcome of this entire situation.

However, fear not, my morally depraved and gluttonously hedonistic friends, for this is not the only French delight to centre the torturing of a bird! While slightly less gourmet and not quite sacrilegious enough to require hiding from God, may I introduce you to the far easier and more legal alternative?

The liver of a goose or duck that’s been so fattened, it required a literal funnel shoved down the birds’ throats to force feed them grain—foie gras.