My late shooting buddy was from a dyed in the wool quail hunting family and consequently his Mom was a top notch wild game cook. She insisted that quail were to be plucked and not skinned. I have fond memories of sitting at huge table accompanied by the family and eating her fried quail, biscuits, gravy, and homemade preserves.
If there's any dish better than properly fried wild bobwhite quail I don't need it. The only thing I would add to the above side dishes would be grits. When I get to the pearly gates, if St. Peter meets me and says I can have anything for supper I want I'll just look at him and, in my best Big Bopper impersonation, I'll answer "Awww baby, you knooooooow what I like!"
