PETER RABBIT AND LARD CRUST PASTRY

The other day I discovered something that made me kind of ill. Apparently many Japanese women are into Peter Rabbit (the character invented by Beatrix Potter, not the rap artist), because he's cute and huggable and ever so slightly cynical. Judging by the fact that these same Japanese women are NOT into me, it's probably glaringly obvious that I am not cute and huggable and slightly cynical.
At least not sufficiently so.

Real women, by the way, are not Japanese; real women rather despise the cute and huggable crap.
If anything, real women are probably vibrant foodies keenly curious about what that fluffy critter tastes like, and how do you cook it?

Hands-on, talented, and perhaps a wee bit cynical.

So I am not entirely despairing.

Yet.


The first thing I though of when I saw the term rabbit was not "Peter", but "pie". Rabbit pie. Tender lapin from field and forest, baked inside a flaky crust with onions and carrots. Plus some bacon, because the wild beast is somewhat lean. Although extremely tasty.
I firmly believe that rabbit pie perfectly epitomizes the maximum amount of cute and huggable a rabbit should represent.
How silly of the Japanese not to realize that.


OPERATION FOO FOO

He crept through the undergrowth stealthily, firmly holding onto his chainsaw. He would've preferred the Kalashnikov, but the last time he fired it, the kick threw him back twenty feet and into the pond.
He hated getting wet.

Slowly, slowly, he crawled forward on his belly through the orderly rows of lettuce. Hah, the shoe was on the other paw now, and old man McGregor would be mighty upset at that.

As he rounded a rose bush at the far end of the second row, he finally found his target. Mr. McGregor was fast asleep in a hammock. The sight of Peter's chainsaw roaring up through his abdomen was the last thing the farmer would ever see.

Peter hated getting wet! But the angle had been too good, and the element of surprise made it all worth while.


Later, he and his sisters, Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, and his brother in law cousin Benjamin, feasted upon the tender lettuce, as well as the delicious radishes, and cauliflower, and radicchio, and snap peas, and baby bokchoi, and fresh asparagus, then set fire to the farmstead and burned it all down.

The barn in particular made a most splendid conflagration, as it was filled with hay, fertilizer, and gasoline for the machinery.

Several hundred chickens in the adjacent coop died quite by accident, as they couldn't find the opened hatch in time. But, as Benjamin's dad said, you can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs. Besides, chickens were very stupid, silly, and had filthy habits; perhaps they were not worth bothering about.

Their demise would've smelled delicious, if it weren't for all the accumulated feathers and bird poop.

Mrs. McGregor wasn't harmed in the blaze, as she had already run off with the village postman. She had grown tired of putting up with mr. McGregor's peculiarities, and had had more than enough of his intestinal gas and horrible temper tantrums.

Afterwards, the insurance made her a very rich woman.
She dumped the postman, and moved to the Riviera.
Last we heard, she had a string of boy toys.


Where's your cute and huggable now?

Hah!


RABBIT PIE

Normally, you would expect a delicious recipe for the item discussed right here. But rabbit is hard to hunt in the city, and both possums and pigeons are far more numerous. Besides, any young woman worth her salt can probably wing it; lard pie crust, rabbit pre-cooked a bit with some vegetable matter and perhaps ale (roux mixed in to make a gravy), then all ingredients cleverly put together and baked at 350 degrees till golden brown.
Lard crust yields a flakier and lighter pastry than almost anything else.
I highly recommend it. But almost any Southern recipe for miscellaneous animals encased in dough will do.

It would be perfect for tea time, and you should invite me over.

Afterwards we'll discuss philosophy, or something.


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You can find rabbit already killed and cleaned on Stockton at Vallejo Street, near all the other food shops in the Chinatown - North Beach Area.

LITTLE CITY MARKET
1400 Stockton Street
San Francisco, CA 94133.
415-986-2601.

It's the kind of place that should be in your permanent rotation, not only for the rabbit, but also the steaks, ground pork, sausages, game hens.....

Unless you're a vegetarian.
Or Japanese.



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