Bunny Stew

 Having been unnerved somewhat by the apparition of the horse-meat scandal in Italy, I  recently bought myself a whole rabbit, head still gruesomely attached, under the reasoning that a rabbit is visibly a rabbit and nothing else. Rabbit is also a very cheap, lean and sustainable meat (as you can find out here in 'Time's article on how rabbits can save the world http://world.time.com/2012/12/14/how-rabbits-can-save-the-world-it-aint-pretty/). My sole problem was that I had no idea what to do with it.

Thankfully, once again my Caldesi cookbook galloped to the rescue, with a step-by-step illustrated explanation of how to joint the beastie. Whilst this spared the meat from being ruined by an ignorant and reluctant butcheress (at least I didn't have to skin it first), I will ashamedly admit that I had to cover the thing's head with a paper towel before I could bring myself to decapitate it, it's pink-rimmed blue eyes still staring woefully at me. This process took longer than I would have liked, having only a bread knife as my weapon and not a 'sharp cook's knife' as suggested in the book. Once the head was safely binned, off came the legs, the flaps of skin on the stomach and the rib cage (which my Mum has since informed me is termed the 'umbrella'), and the body I divided into three segments.

I then followed the classic Tuscan recipe that is 'Coniglio alla Cacciatora' (literally 'rabbit by the hunter') to make it into a stew, game often requiring this long slow form of cooking to make the best of it. This although a lengthy process, for which Marta and I suffered having just returned from a run, was pleasingly simple requiring only the frying of the seasoned and flour-coated joints in oil and butter, then the gradual addition of the other ingredients; onions and garlic, thyme and rosemary, red wine and stock, tinned tomatoes and black olives and a lot of waiting. I did become impatient with it though and cut down the suggested cooking time  by about half an hour so that the meat wasn't literally 'falling off the bone' as the book said it should but it was still soft anyway and had taken up a lot of flavour from the reducing sauce. I love to cook in this way as it is sociable and relaxing, forcing you to slow down and producing a large dinner for many people or lasting an individual a good few days. For me the hunger pangs of waiting for a warming stew like this are worth suffering, especially as an advocate of the Slow Food Movement (http://www.slowfood.com/) which not only champions great slow recipes such as these, but moreover the 'slow' method of producing our ingredients globally.

Cioccolato

From the seventh to the tenth of this month, a festival of chocolate took over the heart of Siena, Piazza del Campo. This coincided well with International Women's day so obviously  I took it as an opportunity to reward myself for being a woman with sixteen euros worth of luxurious artisan chocolate and not just because it would have been inhuman not to buy any. The fact that more than twice as many women than men eat and crave chocolate would also explain this self-indulgence had my visit to the piazza fallen on any other day. I might add that under no circumstances should this behavioral trait be viewed as a flaw; the female need for chocolate clearly stems from the Mayan origins of the word 'cacao' meaning 'god food'.

When I talk about chocolate in this way though, I'm not talking about Nestle milk. There are two reasons for this; firstly nestle doesn't taste of chocolate, it tastes of sugar which although addictive like chocolate, is not the same. Henceforth I was infuriated on arrival in Perugia last year for a festival that devotes itself entirely to the celebration of the sacred substance with the convergence of the best chocolatiers to be had in Europe,  to find myself being guided round a Nestle factory with a faded Smarties logo plastered on the side of it. Although this was not what I had had in mind,  hopes were raised the next day with creative ideas of chocolate sculpting, chocolate kebabs and chilli infused chocolate liqueur yet unfortunately none of these oddities were tested as it was far too hot for sensible chocolate consumption without looking like a guilty toddler.

Ironically the best chocolate that I returned with from the festival, I bought from the train station on the way home. One bar was flavoured with Vin Santo, the other with Brunello. Far more memorable than that though, was the dark chocolate and cherry gelato that I bought in Firenze, having been tempted by the dark and glossy chocolate gushing from golden taps of the Venchi emporium of all things cacao. If you would like to sample the finesse of this company's chocolate for yourselves and are not currently living in Italy, there is a Venchi shop in Covent Garden, albeit not a patch on the Italian original. 

Secondly, companies like Nestle are more than questionable ethically.  Since 66% of the world's cacao is produced in Africa and 90% of the world's cacao is farmed on small family run farms no larger than 12 acres, I strongly believe that every effort should be made to buy fair trade chocolate wherever possible, rather than whatever billion dollar brand manages to produce the most mouthwatering advert.  Happily, there are movements stirring against this exploitation, and succeeding too. A great example is Green and Blacks, who are providing guilt free chocolate and now making enough money from it to make good adverts too, reminiscent of the Marks and Spencer's motto (sorry no Rosie Huntington-Whiteley though boys) as you can see on their website: http://www.greenandblacks.co.uk/. Green and Black's original specialisation, their dark 70% bar, is even more guilt free. Scientists have suggested that chocolate with a high percentage of cacao such as this, contain sufficient amounts of the antioxidant phenolics that red wine also boasts to benefit the heart if eaten in moderation.  It has also been claimed to increase happiness thanks to the endorphins that it produces and even to have aphrodisiac properties which lends some logic to the statistic that one in seven fifteen to twenty four year olds say that life without chocolate would not be worth living.

# http://www.chocolate-emporium.co.uk/chocolate/facts.shtml
#http://www.streetdirectory.com/food_editorials/snacks/chocolates/20_chocolate_facts.html
#http://www.venchi.it/en

An acquired taste

 I never used to like liver,  I halfheartedly pretended to as a child but I think mum knew. It's a particular taste and I think, as I've got older those adventurous little buds in my mouth have busily started acquiring new tastes. For instance, since I've turned twenty one, I've peculiarly started liking coffee, olives and liver, all of which are things that I previously abhorred. On the other hand, these are all things that go hand in hand with living in Italy. Whether the argument is for nature or nurture I'm still not sure. Anyway, this is a good thing, as liver is cheap, healthy in moderation and I'm more confident that with recognisable body parts rather than mince or salami, that I'm not being palmed off with pony. Still, who knows...

So partially instinctively, having hung about the kitchen at home as a child yawning 'I'm hungry!', I knew how to cook it as mum had;  dredged in flour with onions. This is a classic Venetian thing to do, and hence there was a recipe for it in Katie Caldesi's book. I found it a bit restaurant-ised though, why make things complicated? So I took a pinch of knowledge from each source and made it up. Use butter rather than olive oil to fry the onions, coat the chopped liver in seasoned flour and brown with the onions. I then added a lot of red wine which reduced whilst the liver cooked to make a gorgeously velvety sauce.

Having suceeded with the first recipe, I then decided to be more creative for my next organ-based dinner. This was founded on the same basis but used cubed aubergines too which complemented the liver well and a few chopped tomatoes added at the end, piled high with chopped parsley to garnish. Although delicious, I couldn't finish it all and so today I added lentils to bulk out the meagre leftovers. This made for a great transformation and I could imagine making a spicy version of this in future with cumin and coriander seeds.

In the meantime, I'm building up the courage to buy a whole rabbit (I don't know why a rabbit with a head still attached is any different to a fish with its head on but it makes me more squeamish for some reason). Atleast then I can be sure it's definitely a rabbit and not a horse in disguise.