Running Through The Forest
Monday, August 24, 2009 at 12:00PM I've discovered the most difficult, single item to cook in the universe. Seconds determine the difference between perfection and prodigality. If only preparing said item was as easy as eggs or that cool molecular stuff Grant and Wylie do. Unfortunately, making tortillas is no easy feat.
I'm talking about taking masa, or masa harina and water mixed together, pressing it thinly, and cooking on a griddle. Try it-- see what happens. Failure happens.
Failure happened to me in such a way, that I entered a deep state of depression for four days, and didn't cook for any of them. Making bad food really bums me out. I've fallen into similar states after cooking medium burgers (why kill it twice?), but never for so long.
The only reason I decided to return to a grocery store is because I made a deal with Greg that if he cooks ribs, I'll cook something out of the sea-- both being acts that we often refrain from. Upon arrival, all I wanted to do is buy a pound of iberico ham and eat it as is, knowing it would be heavenly and un-ruinable.
;)
Hint: It isn't a chicken.After making a round through the store, I'm still not ready to commit to anything. I stall by sampling a ginger liquor, which is even better mixed with lemonade, and several wines. I return to the meat counter where I see a neglected friend from Easter. Apparently, I've consumed enough liquid courage to make me commit to a decision.
I realize I must be out of my mind to commit to a braise, knowing it's 4:15 now and I probably won't be back home, with a full load of groceries until 5, then execute one of the slowest cooking methods in the book. What happened to planning these things a day ahead?
Quickly, I gather everything I believe the beast to consume (substituting leeks for celery of course), a bottle of wine, yukon gold potatoes, horseradish, and white saturn peaches after another killer tasting.
Once I get home, I put a pot on the stove with butter before opening a single grocery bag. I unwrap my butcher paper package, and lay the beast to rest in the pot with a sizzle. Proper browning takes at least five minutes per side, so I have plenty of time to prep produce, and possibly put a thing or two away.
When the the rabbit is properly browned all over, I remove him from the pan to have the vegetables clean up his mess. White onion and leeks enter the pot, picking up all the bits left behind. A halved head of garlic and whole carrots follow, along with salt, pepper, oregano, and bay leaves.
The rabbit returns to the pot, with half a bottle of red wine (Chateau Beauchene Premier Terroir 2006). Cover the pot, and throw in the oven at 325 Dg for two hours.
With 45 minutes left, I take the lid off the pot, to aid in liquid reduction, and start the horseradish mashed potatoes. Boil potatoes, drain, mash, add milk, butter and/or oil, season, mash further. Load them up with horseradish to taste.
Make a bed of mashed potatoes on a platter, because Peter is going to come out of the pot in a drunken stupor and need to rest. While he's sleeping off the buzz, place the pot over a burner and reduce the braising liquid. Give the carrots to the little guy, remove the garlic skin, and blend the liquid. Re-season with salt, and finish with butter to make it shine.
It may or may not look something like this:
;)
Braised rabbit with carrots over horseradish mashed potatoes. Gravy on the side.
Reader Comments (3)
Love the irony of the carrots!
bunny foo foo was SO delicious :D
"so you've made rabbit before?"
"just once"
"oh once before?"
"no..."
<3
That looks great! We love rabbit over here, well in my house... just had it on Saturday... Go watch...oh email me I have a video for you to watch on making tortillas...fun watch too... I also like the irony of the carrots!