Welcome to the PIBO/Springsong Gala Self-Catered Dinner!
Springsong Guest Authors, Guest Birders, and friends have opened their recipe boxes to help you prepare a delicious meal at home to eat during our Virtual Gala. Instead of cooking from a set menu, we’ve left the choice up to you. Select what most appeals from the Drinks Tray, Appetizers, Bread Basket, Soups & Salads and Main Courses, where we offer Meat and Vegetarian options. And don’t forget Dessert! In fact, you can skip the mains and make a meal of starters and dessert—or soup and bread. At this Gala dinner, the choice is all yours.
Our recipe ingredients reflect the spring harvest—asparagus, rhubarb, mint, wild leeks, herbs. And we encourage the use of fresh, organically grown and sustainably produced food—good for people and good for the birds, too!
Click on an image below to download a printable recipe.
Helping Canadians Live Life Well®
A Birdwatchers’ Banquet: Recipes from Birders and Worders. All your favourite dishes from the 2020 and 2021 Virtual Galas, plus more! Original cover art by Margaret Atwood. Sponsored by Penguin Random House Canada. Purchase your copy in our PIBO SHOP
2021 PIBO/SPRINGSONG BIRDFEED CONTEST
How many bird species can you find in this story by 2012 Guest Author Wayne Grady? Send your list to with the subject line How Many Birds? During the Gala, we’ll throw all correct answers in a nest and draw three names to win memorable prizes!!
How Many Birds?
by Jacky Winter
This recipe comes from my great-aunt, Phoebe Weaver, who was a beauty when she was young, but very gullible. Thin as a rail, she could be a bit stilted at times. She had raven-black hair (I’m a redhead myself); men would crane their necks to get a good gander at her, even when she wore a bonnet. Though she was no coquette. Her father was a miner from Whistler, and she was a WREN during the war, stationed in Turkey; that’s where she met Martin Brant, who was a coal shoveler in the navy with Brigadier Robin Drake. They used to meet on the ship’s fantail and gaze up at the mountainous snowcaps. But those halcyon days are now dead as a dodo. I told the silly booby not to over-eat, but it was water off a duck’s back: she showed not a flicker of interest. Some old coot got all owlish and gave her some fairy tale about putting on weight. I said that was cuckoo, crazy as a loon. I watched her like a hawk, but she told me to go fly a kite, and would just parrot what the hermit had said. She took Cordonbleu courses as a hobby, had all manner of skimmers, dippers, nutcrackers and rollers in her kitchen. I don’t want to be a tattler, but she could be a shag at times, the way she’d swan around the house in her emeralds and sapphires. A real tyrant! She would snipe at me, tit for tat, say my figure was a cardinal sin and nothing to crow about. I get a knot in my stomach just thinking about it. Creepers. I don’t think even Merlin could have convinced her to slow down; maybe Attila. Looking back, that was the canary in the mineshaft. I should have known my goose was cooked. Once a bluebird of happiness, she’d become an albatross around my neck. Well, I shouldn’t grouse. Eating with her is a lark, really, if you don’t quail. Some of her spicy mango dishes give me thrush, but it’s better than playing solitaire with the bishop, and I must admit, she doesn’t stint on servings. I swiftly learned to swallow my pride.
Birdie Beak Rolls (download)
Tapas De Extremadura (download)