How a Rabbit taught me to cook

I was no older than the tender age of 7 when I first ate rabbit. I remember the day quite distinctly. Not only was it the single defining moment when I knew I would grow to be a chef, but also they were my pet rabbits.

Rabbit, Lapin à la Moutarde à l’Ancienne, Photo by Francois de Melogue 2022

The day started as innocently as any other. I awoke early and enjoyed a bowl of hot cocoa as I listened to the birds singing. We lived in an old stone house that butted up against a wheat field with a small stream running through it. I liked to play at the edge of the field, especially while waiting impatiently for my mother to finish her coffee and get dressed.

It was a widely held belief that the ground near the stream was quicksand. My friends traded anecdotal stories about some unlucky animal or person that died a slow gruesome death in the sand. Despite the perils, I knew playing near there would make my mother very anxious so she dressed quicker.

My mother and I walked up the hill to the family auberge where the real fun was to be had. The air around the auberge was infused with an intoxicating mix of boxwoods and simmering stews. My daily routine began by going into the kitchen to ask one of the cooks for a few carrots to feed my rabbits. I usually stood in the middle, kind of obtrusively, hoping to get a taste of an apple sorbet being made or a bite of something cooking before being shooed out. Today felt a bit odd. Normally, the cooks were a bit gruff but instead, they seemed almost sympathetic and kind. Through the kitchen backdoor, I could see both my grandfather and chef Daniel gathered by the rabbit cage chatting.

My grandfather looked rather solemn as I approached the empty cage. He explained in a most tender voice that my two beloved rabbits had escaped during the night. Apparently, they picked the lock and ran free. He conceded that it was a monumental loss and tried to console me by explaining they were probably living their best life. No doubt those two rascals were eating fresh carrots from the farmers’ fields surrounding the old town of Vieux Mareuil.

Through my ocean of tears, I noticed the chef was pensively looking away, avoiding direct eye contact with me. It was curious because the chef had a son a few years younger than me and always treated me like family. After a few uncomfortable moments, I ran off to play while the chef returned to the kitchen to begin braising lunch.

That afternoon the entire extended family gathered around a huge wooden table set for a typical Sunday lunch. As a small child, I hated those. All my aunts and uncles insisted on kissing the American cousin even though they had already done so the day before. The meal would last for hours, but worst of all, I was told I couldn’t swim in the lake until my lunch was fully digested.

The table was laid with the Auberge’s finest China and silverware. Several bottles of wine and loaves of bread dotted the table. My grandfather motioned for me to be seated next to him, in the place of honor. Platters of delicious Perigordine country food began arriving from the kitchen including a strange mustard chicken dish I had never tasted before.

Halfway through a really long and meaty chicken leg, my grandfather asked how I liked my lunch. With my mouth partly full, I replied that it was impeccably delicious and hoped there was more. It was at this moment that he confessed his sins.

To this day I still wonder if he felt any remorse. What would certainly have sent a normal child into therapy for years, maybe decades, didn’t bother me. I just kept eating my rabbits. It was then that I realized I had the chef gene.

Rabbit, Lapin à la Moutarde à l’Ancienne

PREP: 10 minutes | COOK: 1.5 hours | SERVES: 4

· 1 rabbit weighing approximately 3.5 pounds cut into 8 pieces

· salt and pepper

· 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

· 2 tablespoons unsalted butter

· 2 or 3 shallots sliced or 1 sweet onion

· 4 cloves garlic mashed

· A sprig of thyme and savory or a teaspoon of herbes de Provence

· ½ cup white wine

· ½ cup chicken stock

· 4 tablespoons of old-fashioned whole grain mustard

· 8 slices of bacon (optional)

· 8 sprigs of thyme (optional)

· 1–2 tablespoons heavy cream (optional)

Preparing the recipe

1. Preheat the oven to 325°F.

2. In a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat, heat the oil and butter until foamy. Season rabbit with salt and pepper. Working in batches, brown the rabbit on all sides, about 5 minutes per batch. Transfer to a bowl.

3. Add the shallots and garlic to the pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft, about 5 to 8 minutes. Add the herbs, wine, stock, and rabbit and braise in the oven, covered, until the rabbit is half done, about 30 minutes.

4. Remove the rabbit pieces and generously brush with mustard. Crown with a thyme sprig and then wrap in bacon. Return the rabbit pieces and continue cooking uncovered for 30 minutes.

5. Remove the rabbit and keep warm. Add the cream to the onions and cook over medium-high heat until the liquid is reduced, about 5 minutes. Spoon the onions onto a platter and top with rabbit. Serve immediately with fresh pasta.

Notes:

This is an old-school recipe for a farmhouse classic. Rabbits are plentiful and provided many families with the protein they needed. Wrapping the rabbit in bacon is something you see in many older recipes. The bacon adds a layer of fat to what can easily become a dry meat if cooked improperly. Adding cream to the final sauce adds a layer of richness that I enjoy. Feel free to omit those ingredients depending on your personal tastes.

Some people prefer to cook rabbits in a circulator. In my opinion, you lose a lot of flavors in the final dish and it is less preferable than traditional cooking methods. If you cook sous-vided rabbit, try 139°F/59°C for 1 hour.

Please note this is a rough draft for a new cookbook I am working on. If anyone knows a good agent/publisher interested in working with me on a memoir-style cookbook please get in touch!