Pheasant

There's a dearth of good game recipes in most cookbooks. This is a problem if you have a mighty Nimrod (and we mean that only in the nicest sense) for a brother-in-law. JoDee's husband David keeps us plentifully supplied with venison, V-burger, and the occasional pheasant.
The problem with pheasant is that, as a wild bird whose main job is to escape things that want to eat it (like us and David), it doesn't have a lot of fat, so the meat can be dry if overcooked. Add to that the problem with almost all fowl (but most noticeable on the upcoming Thanksgiving turkey) that the breast is done well before the legs.

The solution: PHEASANT SOUVAROV
There are many variations, but the main points are mushrooms, gin, and juniper berries, to give it that dark, woodsy, boscaiolo taste. (Now, in best Julia Child voice, or rather, your imitation of Dan Ackroyd's imitation of Julia Child, say, "And a bottle of gin for that juniper flavor"!). There's a version in Joy, but it perversely lacks the mushrooms.

So, take a pheasant, remove the breast meat, and cut off the legs (that's pretty much all there is to a pheasant; see above on "try to escape"). Watch out to remove any remaining bits of birdshot that may be in there, or you may break a tooth on what you thought was a peppercorn.

Toss the carcass into a pot with some white wine, thyme, peppercorns, celery tops, shallot butts, what have you, and make a little stock while you're doing the next bit. (The secret to stock, taught to me by Barbara: never let the heat get above the ideal point where only one or two bubbles lazily break the surface).

In a pan, sauté some bacon (this is equivalent of barding the breast, if you were going to roast it). Sauté the legs first for 3-4 minutes a side, then when you flip the legs, add the breasts, and cook legs and breasts till just brown on both sides. Remove to a plate. (I know this is going to sound complicated, but in fact you only wind up dirtying two extra plates, and they can go into the dishwasher, which is working again, or, heck, just plunk the finished dish right back on them). Then add about a pound of thickly sliced or quartered mushrooms. Sauté on high till they brown and have given up some liquid. Remove to a second plate (you'll see why in a sec.). Toss in some butter, and add a couple of minced shallots. When they're starting to color, take off the heat for a minute (to reduce splashing) and deglaze with 3/4 cup of gin (taste first to make sure the gin is still OK. It is? Good.) and 1/2 of sherry. One older recipe I've seen calls for 1 1/2 cups of port in addition to this, but 1) that would make the dish too sweet, and 2) all our port is good (thanks, William) but our sherry is mediocre. So in it goes. Then add a cup or so of the stock, plus 10-15 crushed juniper berries (in case the gin isn't doing its thing) and a bay leaf (or, as we thought when we were kids about my mother's spaghetti sauce, just leave the window open).

Now lower the heat, add the legs, cover, and cook for 10 minutes. Then flip the legs and cook for ten minutes more. At this point, uncover the pan. The sauce should be pretty well reduced now; if too little add more stock. So add the breasts, and any meat or mushroom juice. Cook open for 3 or 4 minutes a side and add the mushrooms (this keeps them from just rendering all their liquid into the dish). Hot up for a bit and serve on clean or dirty plates.
Looking back, I think I would have added a shot of tomato paste just to darken the color and flavor. Older books call for truffles and decorated with fois gras, but then they always do and that's just showing off.

Serve with a pinot noir. We had Muirwood, which was mellow and about 13 bucks in our part of the woods.

And now you have a reason to encourage your friends and relations to go out and shoot little creatures.