Hippity, Hoppity: On Eating Peter Cottontail

About author / Josh Gunn

Bachelor chef; southern cooking; mixologist; university professor. Josh's recipes will delight (and sometimes terrify) you.

Last week I mentioned that us humans have a strange habit: we tend to eat the things we revere. Heck, we tend to eat things that should be repulsive, too (like big fat beetles and bull testicles).

In light of the recent holiday, this week I thought I'd offer a recipe for eating the Easter Bunny. He's so cute, so "innocent," and he brings you candy---all the more reason to eat him. I mean, after all, didn't he leave your nieces and nephews little chocolate representations of himself? He's practically daring us to eat him and, like I said, we tend to eat our cultural icons.

Now, Santa Claus is a different story, but that's a column for December.

More seriously, though, rabbit is a nice meat to eat. I've rarely cooked it myself, but it's a pleasant experience every time that I do—both times. Rabbit is a lean, protein rich meat that tastes much like chicken. Consequently, you can substitute rabbit for chicken in a number of recipes, and one prepares it and cuts it much like one would a chicken. Because the meat is lean and not fatty, rabbit tends to take on the seasonings you use with it; it's quite versatile, actually. And if you prepare it for guests, they're not likely to forget it!

"Hi Josh. What are we having for dinner?"

"Peter Cottontail, with red wine!"

"Well, mercy sakes! I've never eaten rabbit before!"

It's a generational thing, in part. My grandmother told me rabbit was cheaper than chicken back in the 1930s and '40s. Now, of course, you have to spend half a day finding a place to buy da bunny.

Indeed, in United States we don't eat a lot of rabbit. I've consulted the Tubes and, unfortunately, could not come up with a statistic from the annual rabbit consumption index. That's because no such index exists, I reckon. We do know that in the UK they still eat bunnies, but I defy you to find three North Americans who have eaten rabbit aged fifty or younger.

The reason for this, I think, is factory farming and the decline of the local meat market; that is, the emergence of the "chain" grocery store has pushed out the farming of rabbit for food. Another reason is something we might term "the Bambi Effect": no one wants to eat a pet. Rabbits are sweet and cute and cuddly and some have adorable floppy-woppy ears. Of course, rabbits eat their poop too (it's how their tummy works; they eat food in one pass, poop it out, then eat it again to digest more nutrients; that's why they have two kinds of poop). So if you think about the Easter Bunny eating his own poop, it may be easier to stomach eating rabbit for dinner.

Or not.

Regardless, scoring some rabbit meat may be something of a challenge. Because of "Rabbit Fever," a bacterial disease that humans can get from eating wild rabbit, it's not recommended you go out and shoot one with your handgun (that means you too, Barry). Rather, you're better off with rabbit specifically bred for being eaten (they'll be plumper, anyway).

Here in Austin, there is a supermarket chain that sometimes sells frozen, farm-raised rabbit meat. The better, fresher alternative is to buy rabbit at a farmer's market (if you live here, the downtown farmer's market in Austin is where you'll find rabbit). Once you score you some rabbit, try this one out:

Serves/Makes: 4

• 1 bottle red wine
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 1/4 cup red wine vinegar
• 3 pounds whole rabbit, cut into 5-6 pieces
• salt and pepper, to taste
• 1/4 cup flour
• 1/4 cup olive oil
• 6 rosemary sprigs (more if desired)
• 20 cloves garlic, minced
• 20 fresh sage leaves