Not my title! It was a 'dad' suggestion when I told him that the delicious-looking pheasant pate we had been kindly given (thanks Jane!) had been made in Rawtenstall, a place very close to where he grew up in Lancashire. He suggested that (and I'm not agreeing!) people in Rawtenstall may not have heard of pheasant, and so simply painted pigeons to look like pheasants instead! It made me laugh, so I thought I should include that anecdote!
As for the pate, it was part of a very late - as in as late as the Spanish eat - meal served to my boyfriend after he had worked all weekend and returned at 10pm on the Saturday night. I opened up the jar and scooped a quenelle for each of us, served it very simply with a green salad, torn crusty brown bread and a squeeze of lemon. The texture was rough and meaty with visible pieces of everything that had gone into making it, and the taste was rich and creamy. The sourness of the lemon cut through this and the crunch of the salad offered a different texture. Despite eating so late, it started off our meal beautifully and was a real treat.