Just Like Chicken

Looking over my past posts to Nosheteria, I make a lot of salads. Because I eat a lot of salads. There is nothing more satisfying to me than a pile of crisp lettuce, a crumbling of cheese, and for interest, a melange of crudite. What can I say, I grew up in California-- bring on the sprouts. So, I realize that it is possible for my readers to think I am a vegetarian, or at least close to one. Well, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

I will eat just about anything. There were the bunny hearts of last year, grilled and skewered on pine-y rosemary branches. They were chewy. I have loved sweetbreads from the time that I was young and traveling in France with my father. At the time, I thought they were artichoke hearts and ate them right up. Yes, give me your snails, slippery and drenched in garlicky butter! I don't suppose I cover my carnivorous leanings on this site because offal usually doesn't photograph too well. But roasted mustard rabbit, wrapped in salty prosciutto, adorned with pan juices deglazed with cream and lying on a bed of soft polenta, that looked, and tasted pretty darn fine.

When my sister (who still lives in California) called me this weekend, our conversation went something like this:

"So what are you doing?"
"Making dinner."
"Oh, what are you having," she asked, as she heard pans clattering in the background.
"Rabbit."

Silence.

"That's gross. I couldn't."

And I realize many people couldn't. No amount of soothing my sister's nerves by telling her how they were farm-raised, or that many people think that rabbit tastes just like chicken could alleviate her gag reflex. And I understand, I really do. But I thought that you, my faithful readers might like to see what I had for dinner this weekend.

I can see why parallels are so often created between rabbits and clucking barnyard fowl. The meat tends to exactly the same in color and texture. But with rabbit it is more subtle, more delicate. I tucked one fresh sage leaf under each slice of prosciutto, this perfumed the meat in a woodsy, herbaceous way. And the pan-juices, salty from the ham, and pale from the cream, were perfect. I thoroughly enjoyed my supper, but you should feel free to make the same recipe with chicken as well.