The Ortolan is considered sufficiently fat when it is a handful, and is judged by feeling it, and not by appearance. It should not be killed with violence, like other birds; this might crush and bruise the delicate flesh, and spoil the _coup-d'oeil_, to avoid which it is recommended to plunge the head of the Ortolan into a glass of brandy. The culinary instruction is as follows: having picked the bird of its feathers, singe it with the flame of paper or spirits of wine; cut off the beak and ends of the feet; do not draw it; put it into a paper case soaked in olive oil, and broil it over a slow fire of slack cinders, like that required for a pigeon _à la crapaudine_; in a few minutes the Ortolan will swim in its own fat, and will be cooked. Some gourmands wrap each bird in a vine-leaf. A gourmand will take an Ortolan by the legs and craunch it in delicious mouthfuls, so as absolutely to lose none of it. More delicate feeders cut the bird into quarters, and lay aside the gizzard; the rest may be eaten, even to the bones, which are sufficiently tender for the most delicate mouth to masticate without inconvenience. On the Continent, Ortolans are packed in tin boxes for exportation. They may be bought in London for half-a-crown a-piece. A few poulterers import Ortolans in considerable numbers, and some have acquired the art of fattening these birds.[11] Alexis Soyer put into the hundred guinea dish which he prepared for the royal table at the grand banquet at York, in 1850, five pounds worth of Ortolans, which were obtained from Belgium. FOOTNOTE: [11] The Ortolan figures in a curious anecdote of individual epicurism in the last century. A gentleman of Gloucestershire had one son, whom he sent abroad to make the grand tour of the Continent, where he paid more attention to the cookery of nations, and luxurious living, than anything else. Before his return his father died and left him a large fortune. He now looked over his note-book to discover where the most exquisite dishes were to be had, and the best cooks obtained. Every servant in his house was a cook; his butler, footman, coachman, and grooms--all were cooks. He had also three Italian cooks--one from Florence, another from Vienna, and another from Viterbo--for dressing one Florentine dish. He had a messenger constantly on the road between Brittany and London to bring the eggs of a certain kind of plover found in the former country. This prodigal was known to eat a single dinner at the expense of 70_l._, though there were but two dishes. In nine years he found himself getting poor, and this made him melancholy. When totally ruined, having spent 150,000_l._, a friend one day gave him a guinea to keep him from starving, and he was found in a garret next day _broiling an Ortolan_, for which he had paid a portion of the alms. TALK ABOUT TOUCANS.