Nothing as wonderful as a good welsh bake, but then surely I’m biased?
“Now here’s the thing,” he said. “Here’s the first big secret. Ah, but it’s more than a secret Danny. It’s the most important secret in the whole history of poaching.”
He edged a shade closer to me. His face was pale in the pale yellow glow from the lamp in the ceiling, but his eyes were shining like stars. “So here it is,” he said, and now suddenly his voice became soft and whispery and very private. “Pheasants,” he whispered, “are crazy about raisins.”
“Is that the big secret?”
“That’s it,” he said. “It may not sound very much when I say it like that, but believe me it is.”
“Raisins?” I said.
“Just ordinary raisins.”
Danny, the Champion of the World, Roald Dahl, The Secret Methods
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