Dinnercraft helps bring your (and our) protracted adolescence to an end. Our authors cover topics ranging from cooking and eating, to home and garden, to crafting and DiY, and all the rest of the things you find yourself caring about these days.
Birds Aren’t Dinner. And Neither are Hot Pockets or Jim Gaffigan
Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.
Our friends at The Manhattan Food Project mentioned something about meat pies recently, which never fails to remind me of this hypnotic nursery rhyme my Grandpa Jack used to enjoy reciting to us as children.
Imagine feeling famished and being presented with a steaming hot pie, expectantly pressing your fork into the flaky crust only to discover – to your great horror, delight or astonishment – a bird so alive it is gaily singing when you free it from your savory supper. Nobody wants that.
What kind of cruel or subversive cook is behind this prank?
According to one source, bird baking was an occasional practice and considered a fine joke during Medieval Times. The peculiar expert was quick to note that a second, birdless pie was always prepared and ready for when the laughter died down.
Not only were lovely flying animals being trapped inside baked goods during those dark days, but there was no social justice then either. The rhyme goes on:
The king was in his counting house counting out his money,
The queen was in the parlour eating bread and honey
The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes,
When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose.
Whether the bird in question is avenging itself or one of its comrades is unclear; perhaps he is the only one disgruntled out of two dozen? But why is it the innocent maid who is punished while the monarchs go on about their pompous business? With their parlours and their counting, indeed! Is the bird so class conscious he knows a maid and a cook are on similar footing in the household hierarchy? And, if the bird is so blithe and unscathed why would he not choose a punishment that fit the crime? It seems rather unfair and unresolved, if you ask me. Song bird bake is not “a dainty dish” for a king or any man, and it sounds like you already know that. Don’t sass me, poem.
I don’t yet know what we’re doing for dinner tonight but I know what I will not be making. Bird Pie. I hope that much is clear. Happy Friday, Everyone!
