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.