The Philosophy of Hossenfeffer

Many years ago, I read a fable that explained why the rabbit had the gift of speed. In the story, the rabbit had deliberately disobeyed God or affronted Him in some way. God was merciful and spared the rabbit, but to punish him for his great sin God deemed that the rabbit should be everyone's prey and would have to spend his life on the run. Again, in His mercy, God made sure the rabbit would have the gift of speed.
It's sort of brutal, as fables and fairy tales often are.

Indulge me in another memory and I promise I will get to the heart of the matter for this post. In his book "The Soul of a Chef" (http://www.amazon.com/Soul-Chef-Journey-Toward-Perfection/dp/0141001895) author Michael Ruhlman spends a good 1/3 of the book giving background on the famed French Laundry chef, Thomas Keller. What impressed me most about Keller was the time he spent raising swine and then having to personally slaughter and butcher animals with whom he had developed a sort of relationship. He said that it ingrained within him a deep gratitude for the animals who make it possible for us to eat. His words were philosophical, almost spiritual, and he had gained a sort of humility from his experience.

Fast forward to my dinner table tonight. Ever since having what I think was called "Rabbit Two Ways" at the East 4th St. Lola location when it was very new digs, I have wanted to try to make rabbit at home. Inspired by some rabbit in the meat cases at the West Side Market, I decided to give it a try. I worked loosely from Michael Symon's recipe for braised rabbit thighs in his cookbook "Live to Cook", but also drew on my experience with pheasant. I was betting that pheasant and rabbit would cook very much the same, namely, the breast meat can be lovely if not overdone because it is so scanty and so lean and the leg meat is almost useless unless it is braised or deep-fried because it clings to the bone with everything it's got...it requires moist heat to get it to release. Symon's recipe had a standout ingredient of a hot pepper which mellowed as the rabbit thighs braised slowly in a low oven, but still offered a nice warmth. Of course, the fresh orange and savory olives added a lot, too. Symon didn't have a recipe for the rabbit breast (or is it a saddle?), so I marinated it in Greek yogurt with loads of mint and a little garlic, then tossed it in some breadcrumbs, and finished it quickly in a saute pan. I put both cuts of rabbit with some of the braising liquid over creamy polenta and served it with baby carrots. I was really pleased with the whole meal.

I do have to say that undertaking to cook a rabbit was a little intimidating, but thinking of it like pheasant or lean game helped. I've never cut up a whole rabbit like I have a chicken, but I just followed the bones with a sharp knife and was able to cleanly cut plenty of meat off of 1 rabbit. I would say 1 rabbit would feed 2 people really well (with leftovers) or 4 people with smaller appetites.

But this brings me back to Keller and the fable of the rabbit's gift of speed. I just feel sorry for the little bunny, cursed by God to be everyone's prey. And my sympathy is ridiculously unbalanced, since I have somehow managed to make peace with lamb and even veal on infrequent occasions. But I would like to keep that attitude of gratitude front and center, especially so with rabbit.

And, as I sit here writing this, maybe the way I do this is by reflecting on the gravity of the order of survival every single time I eat a meat-based entree. Maybe I do this by refraining from overindulging...it is not fair to be gluttonous when something laid down its life for you. Maybe I do this by sharing meals with others who may have a harder time coming by nutritious sustenance. Maybe I follow the pattern of those who recommend eating only once a day in order to have a real sense of hunger each night, ensuring gratitude for every mouthful I have waited so long for.

I am so very lucky.

Goodnight noises everywhere.