I tried roasting woodcocks this week. After a bit of hunting around (both in the wild and at the butcher's), I managed to get my hands on a couple of these tiny, elusive birds. The first thing that struck me was the peculiar joy of trussing them up like little feathered parcels. I found the whole process rather endearing, and the birds looked positively charming nestled in the dripping pan with their slices of toast. The real delight came at the table. The woodcocks were crisp and succulent, the skin perfectly basted and the meat falling off the bone. What surprised me was the toast underneath, soaked in the birds' drippings—it was like a tiny, savory French toast, and it elevated the whole dish. This recipe is a perfect fit for the adventurous weeknight cook looking to impress with something a bit different. The woodcocks are best enjoyed fresh, so don't let them linger. The result is a charming, vintage dining experience that's sure to impress.