The Philosophy of Food, Issue #023: Rabbit Gumbo

Last issue posed us with a question: what to do with leftover (uncooked) rabbit?  The answer, as one of my thoughts went, is rabbit gumbo.  To produce this, I adapted a recipe meant for turkey gumbo, taken from La Bonne Cuisine.  What follows is the best recreation of the ideal ingredients and process I came up with.

Once again, throwing this up here to spare any who own and adore rabbits.

The Ingredients

VEGGIES!  A lot more veggies than I realized went into gumbo.

It was a real joy working with real andouille, rather than the touristy crap that was available in Indiana.

 
For the Stock
-2 rabbits
-3 quarts of water
-2 cloves of garlic, chopped
-1 medium onion, chopped
-1 tsp salt
-Pepper to taste

For the roux
-1 cup cooking oil (or 1/2 cup bacon grease and 1/2 cup cooking oil. . . or just 1 cup bacon grease)
-1 cup flour

For the first round of ingredients
-4 medium onions, chopped
-2 cloves of garlic, chopped
-1 bell pepper, chopped
-8 ribs of celery, chopped
-1/2 cup of fresh parsley, chopped

For the second round of ingredients
-1 lb. andouille, chopped
-1 lb. sliced okra

For the third round of ingredients
-Rabbit stock
-1/2 cup Worcestershire sauce
-2 14 oz cans of chopped tomatoes
-2 tsp. salt
-Cayenne pepper to taste
-Tabasco sauce to taste

For the finishing touches
-1 tsp brown sugar
-1/2 a lemon's worth of lemon juice

The Process

In a stew pot, add the rabbits (cracked or cut into large pieces) and other stock ingredients to 3 quarts of water and bring to a boil.  Boil for one hour, set aside the meat and stock, and discard the bones.

Double, bubble, toil, and trouble. . .

Behold!  Rabbit stock!

Not a whole lot of rabbit meat left though. . .

In a large dutch oven, heat up the oil and grease over a medium flame.  Or medium electrical burner if you're not blessed with a gas stove.  Gradually add the flour (I added 1/4 cup at a time) and stir constantly.  Cook the roux until it turns a deep golden brown, then add the next round of ingredients.

The roux, just getting started.

And the finished roux, nice and golden brown.

I had the onions, garlic, bell pepper, celery, and parsley waiting in a big metal bowl for this part, and just dumped it into the roux.  Stir it into the roux well, so that all the veggies get coated and cook it for about 15 to 20 minutes.

Mashing the veggies into the roux.

See how the roux just coats everything?  Fantastic!

Next, dump in the okra and andouille and stir it in well.  Cook the mix for another five minutes.

And in goes the sausage and okra.

And we're just about ready to get some liquid up in here.

Now add the stock, Worcestershire sauce, tomato, cayenne pepper, Tabasco sauce, and salt.  Stir it all in well and simmer for 2 to 3 hours.

So, it simmers like this for two to three hours.  This is a good time to debone your rabbit and make sure you have enough meat and rice.

Add the rabbit meat and continues to simmer for 30 minutes.  At the last moment, stir in the brown sugar and lemon juice.

And she's ready to serve!

Serve over white rice and pig out.

The Results

First of all, I used significantly less rabbit than I call for.  Mainly because I was using what I didn't use when I made conys in hogepoche.  I filled out the gumbo with three breasts of chicken meat, browned in olive oil with pepper and chopped into bite size pieces.

That said, the dish turned out fantastic.  I went for a gumbo on the spicier side, but kept a close eye on my cayenne usage, so as not to make it unbearably hot.  It was also interesting tasting the gumbo as I added ingredients, seeing how the different flavors blend together, some of which I had not been aware were in gumbo (such as Worcestershire sauce).

Probably the most valuable lesson learned from this adventure, however, is the process itself.  Now that I know the steps and proportions, I have a lot of ability to experiment.  No doubt you'll see what comes next. . .

Pictured: what accomplishment tastes like.

My step dad, digging in.

And my mother.  I think my folks were quite happy to take a night off cooking.

I take no credit for dessert.  But it was fantastic.

The Philosophy of Food, Issue #022: Conys in Hogepoche

So, tonight I decided to kick it 15th century style.  Specifically, I delved into A Boke of Gode Cookery and attempt a recipe older than any permanent European settlement in the New World.  Yes.  I am aware of the Viking Age settlements in what is now Canada.  Which is why I specifically said, 'permanent.'

Conys in Hogepoche is described as 'rabbit in wine or ale sauce.'  Being a lover of beer, I went for the ale.

The Ingredients
-One 2 lb. rabbit, cut into pieces.
-Two small white or yellow onions, chopped fine.
-1/4 cup olive oil.
-2 12 oz bottles of ale (I used Leffe Blonde).
-1/4 tsp. cinnamon.
-1/4 tsp. allspice.
-1/4 tsp. ground ginger.
-A smattering of thyme.

Mainly tossing this up here to spare rabbit owners the horror of seeing the following image as the thumbnail. . .

. . . though it does kind of look like chicken.

The Process

First off, I actually used all the meatiest parts of two 2 lb. rabbits.  I intend to use the leftover meat to make rabbit stock, which will go on to create rabbit gumbo, or some other form of rabbit stew.

The first step is to scald the rabbit.  A brief internet search proved scalding meat to be the process of pouring boiling water over it.  The specific context dealt with a Chinese duck recipe, so I'm not sure if it's the same process that would have been practiced in 15th century England.  I'm also not certain it made any different to the final product, so I'll likely skip this step in the future.

Next, fry the rabbit pieces in hot olive oil until it has browned.  Once it has browned, add the onions, then the spices, then the beer.  The beer should come just short of covering the rabbit.  Bring to a boil, then cover and simmer for 90 minutes to two hours, turning the meat over every 15 minutes.

I should perhaps mention that I think rabbits are adorable, and want one as a pet.  I don't see it as so much of a contradiction as a recognition of the fact that I am an apex carnivore.  Not a predator though, as I don't hunt.

Some of the ingredients, waiting in the wings.

Just after bringing the concoction together.

And we're done.

The Result

I served the conys in hogepoche with home made rye bread I baked earlier this afternoon and some Brussels sprouts my mom baked.  The following dessert (which sadly did not get photographed) consisted of raspberry-chocolate frozen yogurt and chocolate chip cookies which my brother made.

The spread is prepared.

My brother, sampling a Brussels sprout and taunting me.

And finally digging into the rabbit.

My own plate.

The dish is good.  But there are a number of things I would do differently.

Until I can determine whether I did it right, and what it is meant to accomplish, I'll be leaving the scalding out.  I would skip the olive oil and use butter or bacon grease instead.  I would start by browning the rabbit, then deglazing the pan and melting the butter or cooking the bacon (chopped).  I would then add the onions and caramelize them, adding some brown sugar to help it along.  Once the onions had gotten nice and golden, I'd add a bit of flour, then the rabbit, and the bottles of beer, and bacon slices (if I used bacon).  For spices, I'd keep a similar mix, adding a couple of bay leaves at the front, and finishing with some parsley and perhaps a dab of spicy mustard.  Essentially, I would take a lot of cues from stoofvlees.

For all the 'could ofs' and 'should ofs,' it was quite tasty.  My next adventure will likely either be another medieval dish, or else that rabbit gumbo I spoke of.

The Philosophy of Food, Issue #021: Greek Shrimp

First, a bit of (much needed?) house cleaning.  With graduate school behind me and gainful employment a goal ever appearing nearer on the horizon, I find myself in a temporary limbo.  It is my intent to use this as an opportunity to resume my culinary adventures in full and post at least twice a week.  If I don't keep the schedule, you have my permission to nag me.  To begin with I shall showcase a recipe which I have enjoyed many times while visiting my mother and stepfather, but never produced myself: Greek Shrimp.

What is Greek Shrimp?  Well, it is a recipe featured on page 195 of La Bonne Cuisine: Cooking New Orleans Style.  New Orleans: The Women of All Saints' Episcopal Church, 1980.  A better description might characterize it as a medley of rice, shrimp, kalamata olives, feta cheese, and tomatoes not unlike jambalaya in consistency, if a bit more Mediterranean in pedigree.  At its essence, however, it is delicious.

A bit of forewarning: shelling and cleaning shrimp puts me in a somewhat morbid state of mind.

The Ingredients
The recipe calls for
-1 1/3 cups chopped celery
-1 1/3 cups chopped onion
-1/3 cup margarine (I used Bummle and Brown butter substitute, mainly because it's what's available and my folk's place.  In my own space, I'd probably just use butter)
-2 pounds raw shrimp, peeled
-4 cups cooked rice
-1 1/2 teaspoons Cavender's Greek seasoning
-1/2 pound Feta cheese, crumbled
-3/4 cup Greek olives
 -2 (16 oz) cans tomato wedges (used chopped tomatoes; unsure if I've ever had it with wedges)

The Process
Saute the onions and celery in the margarine, butter substitute, or butter until they go limp (how would you like it if someone sauted you until you went limp, huh?).  Then toss in the rest of the ingredients, stir them up, and put your skillet in the oven (preheated to 350 F) and bake for 25 minutes.

This is probably some sort of metaphor for the economy.

So, I was shelling the shrimp and pulled off the outside of the head of one of them without pulling off the insides.  My immediate thought was 'well, vertebrates don't have this problem.'  My next thought was something along the lines of, 'but, it would be problematic to be in the position to think at least you can't remove my skull without removing the stuff inside.'  Like I said.  Morbid.

The shrimp were fairly massive, so they get a bit of choppity to make them bite size.  Another situation it would be problematic to find oneself on the opposite end of.

Fortunately, I feel no empathy for vegetables.

I find raw shrimp far less appetizing then raw beef.  Not to say that shrimp isn't delicious.  In fact, shrimp is delicious.

Both my hands are in this picture. . . clearly, I am psychic.  Or, you know, I had help getting the pictures.  Thanks mom!

RICE!

TOMATOES!

OLIVES!

FEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

-EEEEEEEETAAAAA CHEESE!

By our powers combined. . .

. . .and with SHRIMP! . . .

We are Scrumptious Ethnic Cuisine!

Om nom nom nom!

The Results
If I could go back and do it differently, what would I change?  I might cut the celery smaller.  Maybe.  And maybe spend less time imagining unpleasant role reversals.  And maybe I wouldn't almost forget the shrimp.  Otherwise?  Delicious!  But I already knew the recipe was delicious, which begs the question: is that cheating?  If the point was to demonstrate empirically that I could reproduce the delicious, than I suppose note.  Because I did, and I can.  If the point was to try something completely new and see how it turned out (such as my endeavors with stoofvlees of so long ago), then sure.  I cheated.  But I cheated deliciously.

Special thanks to my mother and stepfather for hosting me in this time of limbo, and for showing me their (different and equally correct) methods of shelling shrimp!

I'll try and have something new up by the end of the weekend.