Stuffed cabbage leaves

This is not the horrible stuffed cabbage that I found recipes for on the internet, that I remember from potlucks in the seventies; the mass of sodden leaves, of stodgy rice, smothered in a ketchup-like tomato sauce. I’m not sure where I remember this recipe from, but I saw a beautiful head of cabbage in the aisle of the grocery today and I thought to myself, by golly, you only live once. So I decided to try this one out blind. I wanted the cabbage parcels swimming in a delicate broth with a flavour of its own, not drowned in a sauce. Here I present the details of the successful experiment.

Take a large cabbage with plenty of dark green outer leaves; pluck the leaves off like petals from a rose and plunge them into a saucepan of boiling water. Boil them for a minute, then pour out the water and place them under the spigot with the cold water tap running over them. Steep dried mushrooms, preferably a mix of wild mushrooms, porcini, and morels, in hot water and leave to soak. In a large bowl, mix a generous amount of pork mince with two or three slices of old bread that have been pulverized in a processor or grinder. Cut several slices of smoked bacon into thin strips. Add all these together with some chopped chestnut mushrooms, two eggs and a generous amount of seasoning and mix well with your hands. Wrap the parcels by closing the cabbage leaves, stem side outwards, around a small baby’s fist of the farce and placing them in a shallow baking container or large saute pan. Thinly slice a handful of mushrooms and strew them over the parcels. Mix the steeped mushrooms and their dark brown water with a measure of chicken stock, and pour over the parcels until they are halfway or so submerged. Cover with aluminium foil or, if using a saute pan, a lid. Thrust into the oven and cook for forty minutes to an hour at 180 degrees. Ensure that the pork is cooked; the inside will remain slightly pink because of the saltpetre from the bacon. Serve with some good country bread: we had Poilane with the glorious Beppino Occelli butter from Italy. For dessert we had a mix of strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries, sprinkled with a capful of Grand Marnier, a squeeze of orange juice, and plenty of icing sugar. 

Rabbit in cream

This one is almost straight out of The Art of Eating, with very little alteration. I have learned from that journal that the better rabbit to eat is one that was slaughtered at twelve weeks rather than eight weeks, but my current butcher here in London has no idea how old the bunny was when it died. I am desperately in search of a better butcher. 

 

Take a rabbit and cut into largish pieces. Finely chop an onion, two carrots, and three stalks of celery. Cutting evenly doesn’t really matter since the vegetables will be discarded later, but it is good for one’s pride. Saute these in a generous knob of butter and allow them to sweat and soften. In another pan, brown the rabbit pieces over a high heat with salt and pepper until they are nicely caramelized. Transfer these to the pot or saute pan containing the aromatics and mix over a medium heat. Turn the heat up and throw in a glass of good white wine and an equal amount of chicken stock. Add a bay leaf and some parsley stalks and bring to a boil. Put the lid on and simmer for an hour. When the rabbit is tender take out the pieces, strain the broth, and discard the ghost of the vegetables, having squeezed them of the last of the flavour they are willing to give. Reduce this liquid in a saute pan over a high heat, and then put in generous dollops of creme fraiche and thick double cream. Turn the heat down to medium low and season as it comes to a gentle boil with salt, pepper, and a spoonful of french mustard. In another pan, melt some butter over a lively flame and saute some small button mushrooms or a combination of various mushrooms until brown and fragrant. Mix the rabbit pieces into the reduced sauce, top with the buttery mushrooms, and serve with crusty Poilane bread and a large bottle of wine.