When carnivorous cravings kick in and I happen to be staying at my ultra-cushy Wimbledon abode, I count myself as luckier than Frankie Cocozza on a Sunday night (that’s for his inexplicable ability to survive, not his alleged effect on the ladies) as two fantastic independent butchers sit conveniently on my doorstep.
Robert Edwards of Leopold Road is probably the better known of the two. A bit more upmarket, they stock a wide array of high-quality meats, many pre-prepared and oven-ready to suit the hectic lifestyles of this Nappy Valley outpost. But on this occasion, it was the wares of Arthur Road’s more traditional (read: cheaper) W.A Gardner & Son that caught my eye on Friday morning, in particular the temptingly plump rabbits that seemed to wink at me from their window.
Five minutes later and £12 lighter, I started to contemplate how I was going to employ the deceased bunny. As it wasn’t exactly cheap, I felt obliged to try and get two meals out of the critter. For the first, I clumsily deboned the saddles, stuffed them with garlic, parsley and their own offal, and finally wrapped them in some streaky bacon. Roast in oven (200 degrees does nicely), wait twenty minutes, rest, carve, feel like a much better cook than you actually are.
Unfortunately, I didn’t actually record this feat, a shame as it was my own creation - in so far as stuffing lean meat and wrapping it in bacon can be considered at all original. Somewhat improbably considering my clumsy knife-work and poor track record with offal, it was really rather good. It was also a joy to present, as the slices rested neatly on top of a small line of mash and, drizzled with a mustard-cream sauce, looked worthy of a very decent kitchen indeed. Next time I feel like concocting a meal that would make hordes of small children cry, I’ll make sure to have my camera to hand.
I was left, then, with the legs to contemplate on Sunday evening, and slow-cooking Peter’s runners to maximize their tenderness and moistness seemed to be the obvious choice. As the inspiration-engine was running on empty after Friday’s efforts, I did a bit of research, settling fairly quickly on Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s rabbit, leek, and cider stew.
Now, before he appointed himself as a (fairly uninspiring) veg guru, Mr F-W was one thing and one thing only: a meat man. For most people, he is as synonymous with flesh as the head-to-tail king, Fergus Henderson, so while I thoroughly approve of his enthusiastic promotion of sustainable eating, his real strength lies in the preparation of things that bleed. His core proposition of simple recipes that use basic ingredients and taste great is hugely appealing. Crucially, he doesn’t feel the need to point out that his food is “proper,” “mega,” or “the best,” all the time like a certain overpaid Essex boy.
You could be forgiven for automatically associating stews with school dinners and Nan’s funny farm. However, treated with a bit of respect, they can emerge as restaurant-quality dishes, and ones that will definitely be trending over the next few months as temperatures continue to plummet faster than European economies.
All you need other than a bit of rabbit and some store cupboard basics is a bit of pork belly and some cider. I actually used a bottle of Magner’s pear cider in mine, as it had been sitting around in the booze corner of my kitchen for so long visitors might make the mistake of thinking I was turning teetotal.
The only other original contribution I made to this recipe was the addition of a couple of bay leaves along with the thyme and some chopped garlic. You could also remove the rabbit pieces at the end of cooking and stir some wholegrain mustard through the sauce to give it extra zip, keeping with the classic French pairing of lapin et moutarde, but it’s hardly necessary as the cider gives it all the punch it needs. Of more importance, probably, is to use the best booze possible – it’s only a bottle, so it won’t break the bank – and to play around with different varieties. Only your palate will know what’s perfect, but next time I’m planning on using a whisky cask cider, like the excellent one produced by Millwhites, who occasionally pop up at the Wimbledon Park farmer’s market.
Basically, follow our man’s instructions and you won’t go far wrong. But, just in case, here are some pictures you can follow if, like me, you find gastro-porn reassuring.
Here is the bulk of your raw ingredients.
First, chop the pork belly into fairly hearty chunks and brown it off quickly in the pan.
Season some plain flour, then lightly coat the rabbit pieces in it.
Brown the rabbit pieces in a large frying pan. This takes a few minutes each side.
Start your stew by heating some butter in a large, heavy based pot, and get your leeks sweating, adding the garlic and the browned pork belly after a few minutes
When the veg is nice and soft, bung the rest of the ingredients – the cider, your herbs, the cream and the rabbit pieces – into the pot. Make sure the rabbit pieces are more or less totally covered by liquid. If they are not, add some stock to make up the difference.
Bring it all to a gentle simmer and forget about it for an hour and a half.
For serving, I think it’s at its best paired with a good helping of buttery mash – I’m using loads and loads of sweet potatoes at the moment as they’re apparently healthier - and some nice greens, both of which mop up all that sexy sauce. So when you think it’s nearly done, knock up your accompaniments: I'm sure you've got a favourite way with potatoes, and the greens are lovely simply sautéd in butter (and garlic and shallots, if you like) in a pan.
To serve, run some mash down the middle of the plate. Using tongs or a slotted spoon, take two rabbit pieces per person – a front and a back leg each – out of the stew and rest on the mash. Put your greens or other veg around the edges of the plate. Ladle the creamy sauce over the rabbit, erring on the side of caution if you’re trying to impress people with your refined presentation. Otherwise, let it swim, baby! Garnish with freshly chopped parsley – as is nearly always the case, flat leaf works best – and adjust the seasoning if you think it might need it. Sit back, enjoy and - if serving to hungry guests - prepare to shamelessly rake in the compliments.
Slow-cooking and stewing really is one of my favourite ways to prepare meat. I’ll try and re-create the stuffed saddle at some point, because it’s a great one to have up your sleeve if your partner’s a bit Made in Chelsea and you’ve somehow gotten landed with preparing a meal for the entire Bassington-Bassington clan after they pay a surprise visit from Chalfont St Giles.
But, to be honest, I probably prefer this: it might not sound as flashy on a menu, but it’s also not nearly as intimidating, laborious, or messy. It has the potential to look as refined or a rustic as you want, the additional ingredients are cheap, and it tastes damn fine to boot. Based on 2007’s efforts, I’m glad to hear matey Hugh’s back on the meat this winter.
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