Every ingredient to this particular dish was local: the beans, the onions, garlic, carrots, celery, leeks, mushrooms, rosemary, thyme, sage and oh, yeah, the rabbit.

Oh, wait a minute: the white wine isn’t from Athens, but it is from Ohio, and the salt–well, it is from the ocean, which is not local to Ohio.

At least, not yet. Maybe after the polar ice caps melt. Then we Ohioans might have some ocean-front property, but I doubt it even then. Oceans have been thin on the ground here for a long while–at least since the Devonian Period, if I am remembering my geology correctly.

So, no local sea salt for little old me.

Back to the dish at hand.

It all starts with the making of rabbit stock.

Which is about the same as making chicken stock, really. You just need rabbit carcasses and bones and bits, some leeks, a carrot or two, a garlic clove, a couple of stalks of celery, a splash of white wine and some herbs. And some salt, and a few peppercorns. Oh, and a secret ingredient. (A dried shiitake mushroom–also known in Asian markets as Chinese black mushrooms. More on that later.)

And lots of pure, cold water. Always start your stocks with cold water–it helps dissolve the gelatin in the bones which makes for a thicker, richer stock that when chilled, will turn into a gel. Melted, a gelled stock has a velvety feel on the tongue that is qualitatively different than the watery feel of canned broths. You just have to feel and taste it for yourself–it is hard to describe the difference.

How To Make Rabbit Stock:

On to rabbit stock–it is just as easy as making any other stock.

I used bones from two rabbits which had most of the meat cut from them to make rabbit stew meat, but one could use full carcasses for this just as easily. Or do like I do with chicken stock and use a whole carcass and then a bunch of bones. Just remember, the more bones you have, the richer your stock will be.

Basically, follow my instructions on how to make chicken stock for making rabbit stock, while noting the differences I mention here.

The biggest difference is that I put garlic in my rabbit stock, when I do not use it in my chicken stock. Why is that? Because I think that garlic really compliments the meat of domestic rabbit perfectly, and one little clove of garlic never ruined anything. Well, maybe it might have ruined a batch of beer or a bowl of cereal, but that is probably about it. I might not chuck that garlic clove into the pot if I was going to use the rabbit stock for some delicate soup or whatnot, but since this was going to be the base of a really hearty and garlicky stew, I didn’t see why I should leave out the garlic.

The second difference is that I leave out onions and just use leeks in my rabbit stock. Why is that? Well, I guess it is because I like the leek flavor better in the rabbit stock. You can use onion if you want–I won’t fuss at you about it.

The third difference is my secret ingredient–that single solitary dried shiitake mushroom.

Why is it there?

To add a layer of depth to the stock–an extra umami kick, if you will.

Besides, you will find that rabbit meat and mushrooms are a classic combination if you peruse European cookbooks for recipes involving leporids and fungi.

Those are the largest differences in the ingredients and making of rabbit stock. I also tend not to simmer the stock as long as I do chicken stock–the bones of domestic rabbits are smaller and more delicate than those of chickens and they seem to give up their goodness much more easily. I tend to simmer my rabbit stock for only about four to six hours as opposed to the marathon six to twelve hours for chicken stock.

Otherwise, the rules are all the same:

Rinse off your carcasses and bones, then put them in a pot with your herbs and vegetables.

Add cold water to cover the ingredients by at least three inches or so. Cold water. Starting with hot water will not speed the process up and you will end up with a cloudy stock that doesn’t have as much dissolved gelatin from the bones in it. So just put the cold water in the pot in the first place and take the time to let it come to a simmer naturally.

Put the pot on the heat and turn it up to high. Watch the pot and when it comes to a boil, immediately turn it down so that is simmers gently and steadily. Do not let it boil again. Ever. (In fact, when it comes to rabbit meat–don’t ever boil it–it toughens it up too much. Always cook rabbit with gentle heat, at a simmer if there is liquid involved.)

Skim the scum that comes to the top during the first part of the cooking. And instead of using a spoon like you see in the photos of the chicken stock post–the link is above so you cannot miss it–use one of these neato keen super fine meshed skimmer thingies you can find at most Asian grocery stores. Just slip that bad boy under the scum, lift and voila–the skank is gone! Rinse it under running water and go skank skimming again. It is so much easier than the spoon method and it is fun, too. And you end up with clearer stock when you are done!

Add about a cup of dry white wine. (I like Riesling with rabbit.)

And–when your stock is done, strain out all the solid bits. If you used a whole carcass, the meat has probably fallen off the bones, but if not, pull off what is left on the bones and set it aside. Discard the bones and the vegetables, but keep the meat.

Salt to taste.

If you are not going to use the stock immediately, cool it quickly and thoroughly and put it into containers in your fridge or your freezer depending on when you foresee using it. It can keep about a week in the fridge, for months in the freezer, just like chicken stock.

Now, if you are going to use the stock immediately to make the stew that this post is actually about, then leave it in the pot and go on with your recipe.

Now, while that stock is simmering, you can do all the stuff you need to do to get the rest of the ingredients ready. You can thaw out any of your boneless rabbit stew meat you might have to use in the stew, shell the beans and cut up the carrots, celery, leeks, onions, garlic, mushrooms and herbs.

Shelling horticultural beans goes faster if you have help, but I find it quite relaxing even if I am by myself. Besides, what’s the hurry? You have to simmer the stock for at least four hours, so why rush on everything else? This is not a quick recipe–but that is okay. Sometimes some of us like slow food, food that takes a long, leisurely route from the kitchen to the table.

Once you have the preparations done–the stock made and any meat from the bones set aside, the beans shelled, the vegetables sliced and the boneless rabbit stew meat–it all comes together quickly enough, and then just goes on the back of the stove to simmer pretty well on its own. Just like stock–this stew doesn’t need your undivided attention–just make sure it is simmering and not boiling, and nothing is sticking to the bottom, and you are golden–no worries.

So yeah, this all-local recipe is slow-going–I did make it on a lazy Sunday after all, with lots of help from a nearly-three-year-old who had great fun assisting me–but it is all good. Not only is it easy to put together, it is fun, and the resulting flavor makes everything worthwhile.

It is by turns rich and complex in flavor, and yet simple and pure. I don’t know how else to describe it. Rabbit has such a clear, pure flavor, and the beans are earthy, and that darkness is accented by the deep flavor of the shiitake. But then the vegetables–the carrots, celery and caramelized onions–add delicious sweetness to the mixture while the sharp scents of the herbs float over everything.

It is really quite an amazing dish–very warming, very satisfying and surprisingly light for all that it is a stew. (I think it seems light because rabbit is nearly fat free.)

And, even if the recipe’s length makes it seem like it must be hard–it isn’t. It is just a good old European-style peasant food, as dreamed up in a kitchen full of the local Appalachian summer bounty. Think of it as Peasant-Hillbilly Fusion. (Might this be a new trend?)

Rabbit and Horticultural Bean Stew
Ingredients:

3 tablespoons olive oil or bacon drippings
1 cup thinly sliced onion
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups thinly sliced leeks–white and light green bits only
3 tablespoons minced fresh garlic
1 cup thinly sliced celery
1 cup thinly sliced carrots
1/2 cup thinly sliced fresh shiitake mushrooms
1 pound boneless rabbit meat
1 tablespoon each fresh minced rosemary leaves, fresh thyme leaves and minced fresh sage leaves
1 teaspoon smoked Spanish paprika
1 cup dry white wine
1 1/2-2 quarts of rabbit stock (or chicken stock, if you must–or water, if you haven’t anything else)
1 1/2 pounds freshly shelled horticultural beans
the meat from the rabbit stock, if you have any
1 bay leaf
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
2 tablespoons minced fresh herbs–I used rosemary, thyme, sage and flat-leaf parsley–for garnish

Method:

Heat the oil or drippings in the bottom of a large, heavy-bottomed pot on medium high heat.

Add the onions and sprinkle with a teaspoon of salt and cook, stirring, until the onions turn golden. Add the leeks, garlic, celery, carrots and mushrooms, and cook, stirring until the onions are a deep golden brown and the other vegetables have been tinged with brown and everything is smelling wonderful.

Add the boneless rabbit meat, and cook, stirring, until it browns lightly.

Sprinkle in the first measures of fresh herbs and the Spanish paprika. Pour in the wine and deglaze the bottom of the pot, then allow the alcohol to simmer out of the wine.

Add the rabbit stock or whatever other liquid you are using, and stir in the beans. Add the meat from the rabbit stock, if you had any. Throw in the bay leaf.

Bring to a brisk simmer, then turn down the heat to a gentle simmer, cover the pot and cook until the beans and rabbit are both tender.

If the stew liquid isn’t thick enough to your taste, take out about a half cup of beans and mash them thoroughly. Stir them back into the stew and voila–instant thickener! No extra added fat or starch. Beans are like magic that way.

Season to taste with salt and pepper, and garnish with the fresh herbs just before serving.

These are my new titles for our President and First Lady, and I think they are probably apropos, in addition to being cute.

I find it fascinating how everyone wants to know everything about the Obamas–what they wear, where they send their kids to school, and what they eat, all being included in the exuberant public curiosity that follows their every move. I can understand some of it–after eight years of having a pretty uncharismatic First Family for Americans to look at, the Obamas are most certainly a breath of fresh air. They are a beautiful, young, and friendly couple with two really adorable kids, and of course, they came into office on a wave of hope and promise for a new way of doing things in America.

So is isn’t really surprising that people are focusing on what foods the First Family likes to eat. And, all of the media interest makes sense, because as the many new designs of sleeveless fashion can show us, the Obamas are now role models whom Americans seem ready to embrace and emulate.

When it comes to food, the Obamas seem to have come in favor of home gardening, local food, and sustainable agriculture.

How do I know this?

They are breaking ground today on the first full-fledged large kitchen garden on the White House grounds since Eleanor Roosevelt’s Victory Garden during WWII. Local food activists, including Alice Waters, who have been working for decades to get a kitchen garden on the lawn of the White House for years are ecstatic.

As a symbolic act, planting a kitchen garden is a potent one. It harkens back to America’s agrarian roots. It ties in to First Lady Michelle Obama’s call for Americans to eat more fresh, nutritious food, and her commitment towards making such food more available to the masses. It shows that when it comes to her support of community gardening, and edible schoolyard initiatives, Ms. Obama is willing to put her money where her mouth is: apparently, she and the rest of the family will work in the garden along with some lucky kids from Bancroft Elementary School, who are helping to break ground today.

I have to say I am thrilled to see this strong symbolic support from the First Family in areas of local, sustainable food production and food self-sufficiency and security for our nation’s citizens.

As far as I am concerned, it is a breath of fresh air that has been a long time in coming, and I welcome the idea of a president and his family who are willing to get down and get dirty and help produce the food for their own table–just like many other Americans are doing.

Maybe many more Americans will try it, inspired by the Obama’s example.

And whatever gets Americans back into the soil, back into the land that sustains them, gives me hope for our future.

This year, I planted a whiskey barrel with Thai chilies and basil; eight starts of Thai Dragon chilies, a dozen of Siam Queen basil. These relatively few plants kept us in fresh Thai ingredients for the entire summer and early fall. The rainy early summer resulted in lush growth but the first chilies were fairly mild; however, the drought that fell upon Ohio in the late summer (something like eight weeks without appreciable rain) made for smoking-hot ripe chilies.

The same was true for all of the farmers around here–their first chilies were mild, the ones harvested after the drought, no matter what variety, were at the hotter end of what that variety can be.

It all has to do with water content in the fruits. The less water the plants get, the less water is able to be stored in the tissues of the fruit. The less water in the fruit, the more concentrated the essential oils and flavoring components in the chile, and the better they will be.

By the end of September, there were so many chilies on the plants that they were leaning over, unable to support the weight of the plethora of ripe fruits. Because we are going out of town for ten days, I decided yesterday that I needed to go ahead and pick the ripe chilies and preserve them somehow and leave the green ones on the plants to pick when we came back. Once I got close to the plants, though, I noticed that there were very few green fruits, except on one plant that is still covered with blooms.

So, using scissors, I cut the heads off of all the chile plants, except the one that was still blooming, and brought the bundle of plant tops, all filled with brilliant scarlet fruits, inside.

I spread them out on the dining room table, put on latex gloves and went to work stripping the chilies off of the stalks.

Every now and then, a green fruit would appear, and those I set aside, with their stems intact, to be frozen. The red fruits, however, went together in a bowl, to be turned into my own homemade chile-garlic sauce. The red fruits I very carefully separated from their stems and the little green caps that attach the fruit to the stem–these tough bits of plant matter would not be tasty ground up inside my Chinese-style chile garlic sauce.

I had help in my work from Delia, who decided to gnaw upon a green chile after she picked up one of the plant tops and dashes away with it.

Karma was instant and brutal; the kitten jumped straight up in the air and dashed away.

She didn’t stay away long–while I was still patiently snapping green caps off of the red chilies, she jumped up on the table and watched the proceedings intently, while she batted at the chile leaves idly with her polydactyl paws.

It is imperative to wear gloves even when harvesting chilies–the oils, especially in really hot varieties like these Thai chilies–can be very irritating to skin, and even if it doesn’t bother your hands, if you should rub your eye or nose, you could be in for a world of pain.

(Can you tell I have done that before? It really, really sucks, so now I am quite cautious.)

But, let us talk about how to make Chinese Chile-Garlic Sauce.

This is one of my pantry staples, and last year, I decided to go ahead and make my own. One may ask why, since it is easily obtained in the store, is cheap and tastes pretty darned good. Well, it has to do with the satisfaction of doing something yourself–of growing something from a seedling to a ripe fruit, picking it and turning it into something else. Not only is it satisfying on its own, every time you use the results of your efforts over the next year, that satisfaction from a little bit of self-sufficiency returns to you. Besides–as good as the store bought versions taste–the homemade ones are better.

The version I made last year was fairly tame, but very flavorful, since I made it with red New Mexico chilies, serranos and cayennes. This year’s version was made with my own Thai chilies and two types of cayenne, both bought from the Farmer’s Market. I put together mixed red chilies with fresh garlic, also from the Farmer’s Market, with some salt, some sugar and some locally made apple cider vinegar (rice vinegar is more traditional, but apple cider vinegar is local and works fine, too), and ground it all into a thick paste in the food processor.

While grinding the chilies, it is a good idea to put the vent hood on in your kitchen and open the windows, especially if you are using really hot chilies. Otherwise, you might find it hard to breathe, and if you have asthma, the capsaicin in the air my trigger an attack of wheezing. So, keep your albuterol handy, and keep the ventilation going, even if it is cold outside. Better to put on a jacket and breathe, I say!

After everything is ground together, I add more vinegar–enough to make the sauce somewhat fluid–it thins as it ages–and then I stir it all up well. Once it is stirred, I scrape the resulting sauce into a jar, screw on or lock down the lid and let it sit on my counter for a day in a slightly warm place. After that, I let it finish aging in the refrigerator–it is ready to eat in about a week, but it tastes best after a month. I still have a tiny bit of the gallon I made last fall, and it is divine; this batch will be hotter, but with an amazing garlicky aroma from the hardy German garlic I used this time around.

I use this Chinese chile-garlic sauce in lots of my stir-fries, and Zak loves to put a big spoonful into his ramen. It can be used to spice anything up, but I like it best in my Chinese recipes–it tastes better than any store-bought version I have ever had. The chile fragrance is just amazing, and the garlic is much more pronounced than the commercially made types.

Of course, this is not the only way to preserve the chile harvest. I also made kimchi Hunan salted chilies and frozen chilies. Last year, I also made kimchi-style cucumber pickles, which I just opened two nights ago. WOW, were they amazingly good–they tasted great on bulgogi burgers with lettuce, tomatoes, homemade chile-garlic sauce and ketchup. I also discovered that I really like just snacking on these pickles, when I need a pick-me-up during the day. They sure are an eye-opener.

But this recipe is probably the easiest to manage for a beginning pepper preserver. While the Hunan salted chilies are technically simpler, having only two ingredients, I have heard from folks who have had them go awry. This can happen with lactic acid fermentation, so if you are wary of losing a batch of chilies to the problem of not enough salt and rot, I suggest you try this sauce. The vinegar keeps everything chilled out and fresh.

Chinese Chile-Garlic Sauce
Ingredients:

Mine lasts about a year if properly refrigerated.

October 2008 is when the fourth annual Eat Local Challenge is taking place, and I signed up.

I felt kind of silly signing up, since I eat locally all the time anyway, but when I thought about it, it does make sense to participate.

Taking part in this challenge gives me incentive to remember to write about shopping for, growing, cooking and eating local foods. Living in Athens, Ohio, it is sometimes really easy to take our local bounty for granted, because we have such a vibrant local food community that is thriving and growing with each passing month.

But as vibrant as this local food movement is here in Athens, it is wrong for me to take it for granted. With the economy the way it is, I must remember how hard it is to start a local small business, especially a food business and it is harder still to keep it afloat. So now more than ever, it is important to not only eat local food and support local communities, it is important to talk about it, and spread the word to others so that people can get inspired to go out and make local food happen in their own areas.

Another thing that will be interesting about this eat local challenge is that Zak, Kat and I will be away for ten days, starting this Friday, visiting Zak’s parents up in New Hampshire. So, I will have lots of opportunities to try out local food in a place that is NOT Athens, Ohio. Karl and Tessa try very hard to eat local foods, but the growing season in New Hampshire is short, so it is really challenging there in ways that is not really the case here in Appalachian Ohio. I mean, Athens has a year-round farmer’s market, which is not the case in their little corner of New Hampshire.

So, it will be a fascinating experiment, to say the least.

Anyway, if any of my readers are interested in signing up to take part in the 2008 Eat Local Challenge, they can go visit the Eat Local Challenge blog and sign up, joining thousands of other folks who are trying to eat as locally as possible.

Now, here are my parameters for this year’s challenge:

My definition of local will include foods grown or produced in Ohio (except when I am visiting New Hampshire–then I will strive to eat foods grown or produced in New Hampshire.) I will also strive when eating out to eat at locally owned, independent restaurants, and will try and feature them in my blog, especially the ones that use locally grown produce and other local foods.

My exemptions are simple–if it cannot be grown in Ohio, then I claim it. Eating locally is not about depriving yourself of coffee, tea, sesame oil, spices, chocolate or soy sauce. It is about incorporating as many local foods as possible into your diet. This often winds up being healthier, because most local foods are either whole foods or are minimally processed, so it forces us to get back in the kitchen and cook.

If there is anything that is eschewed by the eat local movement, it isn’t spices, chocolate or coffee, it is fast food and industrially processed foods.

My goal for this month is to highlight local foods in my blog, and to talk about how I am working to preserve local foods for the winter, which is not only an interesting topic in the first place, but it is also passing on practical knowledge to others as well.

My parents came to visit two weeks ago, and wanted to stop by the Athens Farmer’s Market in search of one thing:

Tomatoes that taste like tomatoes.

Apparently, the farmers around Putnam County, West Virginia, where my Mom and Dad live have taken to growing tomatoes that are perfectly round, beautifully red, and look lovely, but which have the texture of styrofoam and the flavor of, well, wet styrofoam. It sounds to me like these farmers have taken to growing tomatoes meant for the wholesale grocery store trade, which means they look pretty on the shelves, and are a uniform color, size and shape, and have no smell, flavor or texture to speak of.

Here’s the deal–I’d rather eat something ugly that tastes good than something beautiful that has no flavor (and probably little in the way of nutritive value as well.)

Luckily, the farmers here in Athens have learned the cure for the market tomato blahs–heirloom tomatoes.

Now, I have written aboutthese lovelies before–several times–but this time, I wanted to evangelize a little bit, just as I did with my parents.

Look at the sliced tomatoes up above, all grown by Becky, Kip and the interns at Green Edge Gardens/Athens Hills CSA. (Same folks, same farm, different business names, same great produce.)

Aren’t those sliced tomatoes beautiful? They look like gemstones, shimmering in the sunlight. Three varieties of tomato are represented there: Green Zebra, Cherokee Purple and Sungold. I will let you guess which is which, since the colors of the tomatoes are mentioned in their names. Not one of them is the typical scarlet red of the tomatoes in the produce section of your local supermarket, and the Cherokee Purples are definitely a different shape. But who cares, when you can smell their delicious fragrances as soon as you slice into them? Look at how juicy they are? They are bursting with juice, life and goodness–and you can just see it. Imagine if you could taste it–the earthy sweetness of the Cherokee Purple, the tangy zing of Green Zebra and the honey-tinged richness of Sungold.

These are the tomatoes I introduced my parents to the last time they were here.

And these are the types of tomatoes I wish I could serve to everyone in America, just so they know what tomatoes are supposed to taste like. Heck, why stop at America?

I wish I could personally slice up a tomato for everyone on earth, and serve it to them simply, like these pretties, with a sprinkling of fresh basil (grown up on my deck garden) and a little shake of pure sea salt.

I think that if people could just taste these gems from the garden, there would be a tomato revolution. People would want that taste again and again, and would be willing to do what it would take to get it, whether it was shop at a farmer’s market, insist upon local tomatoes being sold in local supermarkets, grow them in a community garden or get them at a local restaurant.

I’d love to see people stop buying the supposedly “fresh” tomatoes at the grocery store.

The truth is, I haven’t bought one in years. I just don’t eat fresh tomatoes when they aren’t in season.

I eat them canned, in juice, in sauces, dried and pureed, but not fresh. There just isn’t any point.

Those red baseball sized “tomatoes” in the grocery store just don’t taste like anything. Who knows how long they have been off the vine, and who knows how many vitamins or minerals are left in their crisp, nearly juiceless flesh?

They just are not worth the bother or the price.

Nope, it is all about the seasonal, home-grown, freshly picked tomatoes.

They are where its at.

And I am so there.