Paccheri con ragù bianco di coniglio, or pasta with rabbit ragù

 

 

In my American genes it is not even Thanksgiving yet, but I seem to already be doing all things Christmas.

 

I spent last week end helping my kids make decorations to bring to school.

Which would be ok if:

a) the elementary school project didn't involve making three different decorations using the five senses as inspiration. Which makes it a bit more complicated than dumping a bunch of glitter glue, loose ends from last year's Christmas ribbons and some cardboard toilet paper rolls onto a table* and letting your kid "freely express her artistic inclinations" (although I will admit that the huge Christmas tree they decorate in the entrance with the kids' work gets me teary every year and I am proud of the school's amazing Parent Association that funds great projects with the money they make selling one of the three decorations each child makes); 

b) I didn't spend the whole time I am picking glue out of my pre-schooler's hair and wiping glitter off the floor (and chairs, and table and the rest of the house) thinking why the heck they don't make them do their artwork at school since they don't exactly spend their days reciting Homer and solving equations.

 

 

 

 

This week end I will be helping my mother in law make her famous tortellini for Christmas Eve. I cherish family traditions and have noticed that with the passing of time it is getting harder and harder for her to make the enormous quantities of food she has spoiled her family with for so many years. I want to be able to help her, take some of the weight off of her shoulders; and I want to hand this art down to my own children and their families. I know I will be getting a bag to stash away in my freezer for our Christmas celebration with my family this year. But what I and my children will really be getting out of it are precious memories of these Christmases together, memories they will carry with them for the rest of their lives. I know I cherish the moments I spent with my grandmothers, even more so now that they are no longer here with me. 

 

I have been translating Christmas recipes for a website, sorting through hundreds of pictures of the kids for our Christmas cards and scouring the Internet for gifts because I swore to myself last year that I am never getting stuck in that last-minute shopping frenzy again.

 

But the truth is all I want to do is slow down and enjoy some turkey and cranberry sauce and think about all the things I have to be thankful for, because there are many. The first being my friend who is organizing a belated Thanksgiving get-together next week end for all us nostalgic expats.

 

Another one being all those things that make life easier. Like a recipe that can go two ways, depending what you are in the mood for. 

 

(If you were hoping for something a little more soppy, go here (I am also thankful my photography has improved a tad!) and here, to Thanksgivings past).

 

 

 

 

This is the "sliding doors" of recipes: a small twist of fate and you can get two entirely different meals out of it. A primo or a secondo as they would say here, a first course or a main course. I posted about the latter a couple of years ago. This time I took it a step further. 

 

If you follow the recipe until the meat is perfectly braised (in the link, I finish braising it in the oven, but the stove top will do fine. Just use less liquid for cooking) you will end up with a comforting dish of fall-of-the-bone tender rabbit meat to serve with polenta, mashed potatoes, rice or whatever other vehicle you have in mind to mop up every last drop of the sauce. If you read all the way to the end of the recipe, because like us, you cannot get through the week (or day) without a big plate of pasta, you will enjoy a delicate and delicious ragù. 

 

 

*Now I know that my grandmother's weren't just thrifty because of the Great Depression and the WW2... before being grandmas they were mothers of pre-schoolers and schoolers, which literally means hoarding every piece of crap a functioning person would normally throw away, because at some point you are going to need it for a school project.  

 

Braised rabbit with black olives and ground almonds

 

 

 

I'm not that kind of girl. Really.

 

It is not like me to turn my back on a meaningful relationship because things aren't the way they used to be. Things change, we get older. I always knew that. And let's face it, he was no spring chicken to begin with. When we met he was stylish and wordly but he had had his share of relationships before me and they had certainly left their mark. It didn't matter to me then, I coveted him from afar and waited patiently, because I knew he would come to me. He did and the fact that he was older didn't matter to me at all because I loved him. All I cared about was sharing my time with someone who was really there for me, supportive, someone who was in it for the long-term. So when we walked down the street I didn't care if people stared, I just walked on, my hand curled around him, head high, confident of what we shared, disinterested in what people thought of us. So what if he was old? Nobody knew what we really shared. He knew everything about me, kept all my secrets. He made me laugh, he made me cry. Thanks to him, I contacted old friends I hadn't seen in years. He got me to stay more in touch with my family, he travelled around the world with me. He shared my fondest memories: my children growing up, our travels. So even if I saw the signs of his ageing, I shrugged them off. Until there was just no ignoring them anymore: he was suddenly slow, he just couldn't keep up with my pace anymore. He often needed to rest, to recharge his batteries.

 

 

And then it happened. A few months before Christmas, I met the object of my desire. Young, sexy, sleek, sophisticated. Fair, so different from the darker tones I was used to. He knew everything about anything, he seemed ahead of his time. I accidentally brushed him with the tips of my fingers and was amazed at how responsive he was to my touch. My head was spinning, I had forgotten what that felt like. I left immediately, ashamed of my behaviour, my heart pounding. I told no one for the longest time, not you, not my friends, not my family. How could I? I turned my head and went on with my life. I pretended I had never seen him, that he did not exist, that he wasn't suddenly everywhere I looked. I am not one to make sudden decisions and I knew I did not want to invest in a whole new relationship, the cost would be too high, it was not worth it. All relationships get old sooner or later, the excitement wears off quickly. But I couldn't shake the memory of our first encounter and my relationship was undeniably starting to show the strain. I kept trying to ignore all the signs but finally I gave in and went to look for him.

 

I could not resist, I succembed. Forgive me, but I am in love or call it lust if you prefer. I know things will change, but for now I have decided to enjoy every second.

Braised rabbit

When my daughter was old enough to have solids and most ingredients I stopped cooking separate meals for her and we started eating together as a family.

One day I made roast rabbit and cut the meat into small pieces for her to eat.

When she was about to put the first bite into her mouth, she asked me what it was.

"Cos’è?"
"What is it?"

My husband and I looked at each other and for a split second wondered what we should answer. We were all too aware that she loved her bunny-shaped stuffed animals and her boardbook versions of Peter Rabbit and Guess How Much I Love You. But we decided to be true to our beliefs, to not lie to our children about food and where it comes from. So after the first second of hesitation, I answered in English:

"Rabbit".

She stopped short and put her fork down.

I knew it.

Then she pointed to the silver baby fork she was eating with and said "Babbit". Surely enough, on the fork were a duck, a rabbit and a pig.

I should've said chicken. I should've waited a little longer.

Then she picked up her fork again, stuck it in her mouth, chewed and exclaimed:

"Buono!"
"Good!"

Before going into the oven

I may have already told you this story, but I can’t help thinking of it now that I am posting a recipe for rabbit, probably because I am aware that it is a controversial topic. I know some readers will click onto the next blog in disgust/horror.

In a lot of countries rabbits are eschewed as a protein source because they are cute, barnyard friends. The truth, however, is that we eat most of our barnyard friends, from cows to hens to ducks, so why make an exception for rabbits? In my opinion, you either eat meat or you don’t. I am not judging the  moral issue or personal taste. But if you are a meat eater, a chicken is as much an animal as a rabbit or a lamb, isn’t it? So, just because it ain’t as cute as Bugs Bunny, it is ok to go ahead and kill it?
 

After the oven

Also, if you eat meat, it is important that you understand where it comes from and how it ends up on your plate. Sterilizing the process by selling meat in aseptic cuts and unnatural shapes in plastic trays, or choosing to eat some animals and not others based on their appearance is just another way to distance yourself from your food source, making you less responsible of your actions. Let's face it, if you recognize the actual shape of a leg, if a fish is served whole instead of filleted, if you are eating an organ, you are more aware of the sacrifice that was made to feed you. So ultimately, eating responsibly and knowing what you are ingesting also tends to discourage waste. Maybe you will think twice about dumping that leftover piece in the trash if you are actually aware an animal was killed for your consumption. An animal (a cow, a pig, a hen, a lamb, a rabbit, a fish, even a horse!), not a pink unidentified rectangle of substance.

But back to rabbit. In Italy (and many other places of course), rabbit meat is quite common. They sell it at the butcher's and pretty much in any supermarket, usually near the poultry section. You can buy a whole rabbit, head on or off, or you can buy it quartered. Rabbit meat is a lean and healthy option for your diet. According to an interesting article I just read, rabbit has a low carbon footprint because they efficiently turn calories into pounds of meat (with the same amount of food and water they produce 6 lbs of meat vs. the 1 lbs produced by a cow). They are quiet and clean (much more so than chickens), and they eat leftover scraps and turn them into natural fertilizer, making them ideal as backyard animals for urban locavores.

They are also apparently much easier to butcher and clean than a chicken. Now I may just stick to buying mine at the supermarket and the truth is we cook rabbit because it tastes good but in today’s world of overconsumption I am always happy to learn about and consider all the other options out there for us.

I like braising rabbit because the meat is not at all fatty and tends to be a little on the dry side.
With this technique, it becomes pull-apart tender. You can use many different liquids, from wine to beer to marinades or tomato sauce, but this time I simply used vegetable stock. When the meat is ready you can serve it as a main course or make a delicious rabbit ragù by pulling it apart.