I've Got A Rabbit In My Freezer

In a couple of weeks, I’m moving. After two and a half years living in the same little studio, I’m finally upgrading. And as if moving weren’t stressful enough, I’ve got a skeleton in my closet that’s making the task all that much more daunting.

Or, to be exact, I’ve got a Rabbit in my freezer.

Allow me to explain: over the summer, I tasted a delicious Rabbit Stew at a restaurant run by Italian Grandmothers on State Island. It was a revelation, and I proceeded to sing the praises of the dish to anybody who would listen.

My cousin, an angel in her own right, saw how taken I was and went out on a limb for me. Living up in Vermont, she had a friend who was raising and harvesting rabbits. Naturally, she requested one especially for me. To be slaughtered and packaged and shipped to me in NYC on dry ice.

I sure do love my family.

The only problem is that, like a lunatic, I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to prepare this scrumptious little guy. It seems like the type of meal that required an occasion, so I’ve waited and waited, and now I’m running out of time!

There’s nothing worse that preparing rabbit under duress. And if that that timeless fable about the tortoise and the hare has taught us anything, it’s that slow and steady wins the race! But, truly, it seems as though I’ve got no choice. Pull the trigger, I must–and soon!

Rabbit watch 2K16 starts now. Will it be Rabbit Stew? Rabbit Tacos? A rabbit roasted whole? I’ll keep you all in the loop.

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