There will be one less Peter Cottontail hopping down the bunny trail next Easter. Last night we ate him.
I’m both proud and disgusted to have sampled rabbit last night. The dish from Chile was made by a member of the copy desk who apparently has less cooking fear than I do. Rabbit thighs were cooked with white wine, butter, orange juice and hardboiled eggs.
True to the saying, they tasted like chicken. I took about the smallest piece I could find of the “Thumper thighs” (as they were called last night.) I nibbled cautiously, trying to discern a difference in taste or texture, but I really didn’t get much. We speculated it might be different with another piece, like a breast.
On one hand, I’m quite proud of myself for trying something different. However, it did bother me to eat a meat other than the pork, beef, turkey and chicken I’m accustomed to. I grew up in deer country and many friends ate venison, but we never had it. I’ve sampled lamb from time to time, but it’s not a regular staple in my diet at all. And I haven’t gone very exotic.
With the cows and chickens I do get a little grossed out by raw meat, but once it’s cooked, I generally can forget where it comes from. And I also know the cows and chickens as a source for food. With rabbit, I think of cute and cuddly little creatures, not dinner.
I could never be a vegetarian. I love steak too much. But rabbit was a food to make me think.
