July 19, 2009 – Le Lapin – The Cooking

I don’t like rabbit. That is to say, I’ve never really eaten rabbit. Sure, Katherine eats rabbit. She eats anything; but my tastes of her rabbit have been very limited; the cursory forkful followed by a large gulp of whatever liquid was at hand. So it was with trepidation that I was looking forward to Pierre’s lapin dinner. That was the good news.

The bad news, which I forgot, was that Pierre prefers to butcher his own rabbit. So upon our 6pm arrival [for an 8pm dinner], I was informed that before we could cook the rabbit, I had to butcher my rabbit! Pierre explained to me that if the butcher cut the rabbit, there are little bones and bone fragments that get broken off and lodge into the meat. And actually, having prepared my own rabbit and afterwards, seeing how the butcher cuts up a rabbit, I can see why little bone fragments get into the meat; butchers just use a meat cleaver to quarter the rabbit and crack the bones…not us…read on.

So I put on my apron, knocked back a shot of whisky [it’s a gourmet French cook thing], was given a knife that could slice through iron, and, oh yes, my own rabbit. Pierre showed me what to do using his rabbit and I dutifully followed. Unfortunately, the first thing was to separate the head from the body. I told Pierre that maybe I should have another shot…he understood. While knocking back the shot, he decapitated my bunny. After that, I was good. It was basically like quartering a skinny chicken except that after the legs were removed, we filleted the body. It was a surgical experience.

Then it was simple. Braise the bunny with garlic and olive oil. Add loads of mustard ancienne [coarse deli mustard to the NY folks], a cup or two of Pierre’s homemade wine vinegar [he makes everything himself, vinegar, wine, cider, etc.] and a slow boil for 90 minutes or so. And that was it. The easy part was done. The hard part, me getting this lapin down my throat, was next.

But the wine started flowing and the aromas starting rising. Pierre showed us the entrée [which in France, is what is should be, the first course]. It was a homemade pumpkin soup that needed a little more time chilling. Not a problem, more wine and time for Pierre to make an apple tart for dessert. As the pictures show, it was an artistic accomplishment. After the pie was in the oven, we began dinner.

The soup was marvelous but the rabbit was next. It smelled great but it was rabbit. One bite into it and I knew I had been wasting all those years passing up bunny. I even asked for seconds. And true to French form, Pierre followed the main course with a green salad [and homemade dressing, of course] which was followed by cheese which was followed by the apple tart.

You would think that the coffee would be the final touch but no…..no dinner at Pierre’s house is complete without fine Cuban cigar or pipe! That’s Wendy and me knocking back a stogie [and me turning green]. But the highlight was Pierre’s antique pipe. It’s an ivory pipe shaped like a woman’s leg; fill the thigh with tobacco and suck on her toes. It’s over a hundred years old!

And that, my friends, is how you cook and eat a rabbit dinner.