A recipe, clipped from a magazine and yellowed with age, fell out of an overstuffed folder and into my memory, taking me back to the time when I was eighteen, married, and did not cook.
When I found the recipe for ‘Ragout of Rabbit’ I thought I had found the perfect recipe which would transport me into the realm of gourmet cook. I would also impress our very sophisticated cousin by inviting him to have dinner with us in our tiny third floor apartment. My first mistake came with pronouncing Ragout as it is spelled, but coming from a family of cooks who never used garlic, and wouldn’t think of using wine, what could you expect? The recipe called for both, and much more, including herbs I had never heard of.
After a long and complicated preparation, the recipe ended with the question “And did you notice that this recipe bears a startling resemblance to that one of Apicius?” I had never heard of the old Roman Apicius and his cookbook, and had no idea where to find it. I have since wondered if it took Apicius as long to prepare it as it did me.
We invited our cousin, and I struggled through the recipe, but he did not arrive on our doorstep. We ate the entire rabbit, which was rich with unfamiliar flavors, threw away the bones and I never made the rabbit recipe again.
Many years later, my mother raised some rabbits, along with geese and chickens, on their small property in Oregon. The geese became a problem as they considered that side of the ditch their own and attacked all intruders. This large ditch ran for miles from Medford, through their property and on into Grants Pass. It kept a moderate flow which made floating on inner tubes great fun. You could float along all the way into the town of Grants Pass if you had someone to pick you up and bring you home. My dad’s big collie dog went out of his mind barking if my mother tried to cool off by swimming and threatened to jump in when the children got in. It was strange how he knew all this water could be dangerous.
I have always liked the idea of rabbits, ever since Peter Rabbit captured my imagination. I had an unpleasant picture of Mrs. McGregor, and thought rabbits were much nicer than cabbages. When I was eight or nine, I received a sweet bunny rabbit at Easter, which promptly bit my finger. The crooked nail has been a constant reminder of how unpredictable the small creatures can be.
I have often wondered how rabbits came to be associated with the celebration of Easter, and who was the first to imagine that they could lay colored eggs. Who had the idea that a rabbit’s foot was lucky? It certainly wasn’t lucky for the rabbit.
10 thoughts on “RUN RABBIT”
The entire family was rounded up for my magic lamb stew but they did not believe me. I think someone close by told the kids the truth, and that it was rabbit. I ended up eating the entire stew. A great dish when marinating the rabbit with red wine mustard and lots of garlic.
You rascal trying to put one over on the poor family. It’s actually very good, but I wouldn’t make it again. I haven’t seen it in grocery stores, which tells us something. My mom treated it just like chicken—floured and deep fried. I suppose if we’re hungry we will eat almost anything, even bunny rabbits.
I ate rabbit once. Period. There’s just something about eating those cute bunnies!
How true. I imagine the Aussies had a reason for building the “rabbit fence” though. It wouldn’t take long for them to destroy anything edible.
At about the same age you were when you prepared the ragout, I saw Roman Polanski’s film, “Repulsion”, in which Catherine Deneuve’s character keeps coming across a dead, skinned rabbit. Before that time, I did not cook. After that time, I never wanted to cook a rabbit.
I’m searching my memory for the movie where the rejected “one night stand” comes to the married lover’s home and cooks their pet rabbit for spite.
I’m sure that I could use this old recipe and substitute a chicken if necessary. My cooking has become much simpler these days.
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Yes, mine too; although I still like to read cookbooks. 🙂
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I still remember my elderly MIL watching the cooking shows on TV with a pad and pencil, religiously copying the recipes. She never lost her love of cooking, right up to the age of 93!
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Oh, my gosh. I wish I could pick you right up and take you to the Rabbit Festival in the town of Iowa, Louisiana. (Yes, that’s right. The town is Iowa, the state is Louisiana.) You can have rabbit prepared a couple of dozen ways, and believe me — some of it’s flat good.
I went a few years ago, and I wrote about it, of course. You can see plenty of photos and a description here.
Of course, we shouldn’t forget John Steinbeck, who once said, “Ideas are like rabbits. You get a couple and learn how to handle them, and pretty soon you have a dozen.” i love that line so much I’ve been quoting it all over the place.
That’s a clever title you have, too. John Updike would be proud. 🙂
Well, I never heard of Io-way, Louisiana! But I can go anytime! I never saw a town with so many festivals. Here we have the Half Moon Bay Pumpkin festival and the Gilroy Garlic festival. We had, for several years in our garden, a zucchini festival, where only zucchini recipes were allowed. After one such affair a friend complained that though his blossom end was in good shape, his stem end had turned green. I suppose too much of a good thing could do that.
I loved your rabbit story. What a great mix of music and fun.