Hedgehogs: endearing little spiny things that shuffle around undergrowth, are invariably full of fleas, and used to confound our dog because she would want to play with them and they would curl up into a protective ball. However, it would appear that their cute nature, flea infestation, and protective spines have done little to deter the human population from eating them. I was recently sifting through recipes in the British Library, most of which were for hare, pigeon, and rabbit — essentially anything that could be trapped or caught in the British countryside — when I stumbled across a method for preparing hedgehog. I was intrigued, not least because it occurs to me that the nutritional benefits to be gained from a hedgehog are probably outweighed by the energy expended to prepare it. Yet it would seem that hedgehog has been included in the human diet for thousands of years, and as a consequence there are numerous recipes for it.
Perhaps most well-known recipe for hedgehog involves encasing the beast in mud and baking it in an oven or open fire. Whether or not this will amount to the tastiest hedgehog I couldn't possibly comment, as far I can tell there isn't much opportunity for seasoning and judging if the meat is rare, medium, or well-done is all but impossible, but it is probably the most efficient method. The spines will be baked into the mud and will pull away from the flesh when the mud is cracked off. The same method can also be applied to game birds, if you don't need the feathers for pillow-stuffing or quilting. Of course, you will need a ready supply of mud, as well as hedgehogs.
There is archaeological evidence for hedgehog consumption since about 6,000 BCE in the British Isles. However, ancient cooks probably wouldn't have used the mud method, but would have wrapped the hedgehog in grass to bake it. This tradition continues today: hams can be cooked in hay. (And it is no surprise how the hedgehog got its name: it is supposed to taste similar to pork.)
For the medieval cook, the preferred method of hedgehog preparation was to truss it, just as one would a bird, and then roast it. The meat would then be served with a rich sauce or in pastry. In the case of petulent hedgehog that refuses to unroll, cooks from the Middle Ages passed on the useful tip to drop it into hot water. So now we know.
The recipe that caught my eye, however, was found in a book called Medicines, Music and Meals by Robert Dawson. This one says to remove the spines with a sharp knife, cut along the backbone, remove the heart, liver, and kidneys, and wash the animal. The guts can be eaten, but by all accounts they taste vile — to the extent that even dogs won't touch them — so perhaps it is best not to. Wrap the hedgehog in foil and bake in a slow-to-medium oven for two hours before serving as you would any other meat. That sounds fairly straight forward, doesn't it? Sure beats another method that entails inserting a straw into the poor animal's rectum and blowing (for heaven's sake don't suck!), which allegedly results in tender meat that comes away from the skin more easily. I can't vouch for this method's efficacy — and even if I could, I'm not sure I'd admit to it — but if you can, please do let me know.
The chances of me trying any of these recipes are slim to none; hedgehog isn't kosher and in the UK is a protected species so I'd be in double-trouble. However, I have it on good authority that the flavour of hedgehog resembles chicken leg meat. I'm far from tempted, though, even by the possibility of hedgehog carbonara. Mrs Tiggy-Winkle remains safe in my presence.
Scratching in the undergrowth