Ta-Ta: Tat Soi

It was the morning I'd been waiting for since October: the opening of the Seacoast Growers' Market in Portsmouth. Of course, we've been lucky enough to have fresh local root vegetables and greens throughout the off-season, what with our CSA and the monthly winter markets. But I just love being outside at this hilltop market, with its views of the Mill Ponds and the city--even in the rain.

This far north, the May markets are more about seedlings, than actual produce, but I look at it as a preview of the season to come. It's fun to see all the different varieties of heirloom tomatoes and peppers that will be coming my way in July. I was also hoping to find something that would make a tasty lunch on a cool, drizzly day

Amongst the rhubarb and salad greens, I noticed that Wake Robin Farm had some fresh tat soi. I remembered that there was a container of homemade Asian pork stock in our freezer, along with couple of containers of chicken stock. And I also knew we had a stash of Trader Joe's frozen Chinese dumplings. Sounded like all the fixings for a soup of Asian greens. 

Tat soi is a leafy green with a taste that's spicier than bok choy, but not as sharp as mustard greens. Like broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and kale, it's a member of the brassica family. And like its cousins, tat soi is high in minerals, vitamins, and antioxidants. It tastes great raw in salads or lightly sauteed in stir fries, but it also has the right texture and  flavor to be the star of a soup.

As the stock was defrosting, I put some minced ginger and garlic and a couple of Thai bird's-eye chilis and lime leaves in an oversized tea ball and put it in the soup to add some Asian spice. (I like to keep a selection of lime leaves and chilis in the freezer in both Portsmouth and Boston so I can add a quick Asian flavor to sauces, soups, and stir fries.) I washed and chopped the tat soi and sliced some carrots and scallions.

When the stock came to a boil, I added the carrots and scallions and simmered slowly until they were tender. I first added the tat soi stems, and when those had softened slightly, I swirled the leaves into the steaming broth along with a package of dumplings. When the soup was ready, I ladled it into some bowls -- making sure everyone got a nice helping of dumplings, and sprinkled some chopped cilantro on top.

You could make this soup with canned or boxed chicken stock -- preferably organic and low salt. You could also add some shittake mushrooms or leftover roast pork or chicken. But on this grey, mid-spring day, the fresh, spicy green flavor of the tat soi itself was just perfect.

Potato Salad: Why Not Think Pink

Maybe it's the fact that the temperature hit 90 degrees on Easter. Or that it seems I haven't needed a coat in weeks. Or that our chive plants in Portsmouth were flourishing in March.

Whatever the reason, I had a hankering for that old summer picnic standby, potato salad.

The night before, we'd rotisseried a couple of chickens outside on our Weber grill -- so there was cold chicken in the fridge. And we'd spent the morning at one of the last of the Seacoast Winter Farmers' Markets, so we had fresh greens from Heron Pond Farm for a salad. What could be a better accompaniment to an April alfresco lunch on the deck than a homemade potato salad? There was only one hitch: I knew the potatoes we had on hand were Adirondack Reds, the pink-fleshed relatives of the blue potatoes I wrote about last time. I wondered: could potato salad be pink?

The answer would probably have been "no" if I'd been thinking about the traditional American mayonnaise-based version. But I'd spent the past year or so trying to replicate the potato salad from Karl's Sausage Kitchen on Route 1 in Saugus, which with its vinegary, oniony taste, is my current gold standard. Sure, I could probably ask Karl's for their recipe, but then I'd miss all the fun of trying to figure it out myself.

Here's what I've come up with so far: first, onions should be minced, not chopped. Second, in order to get as much flavor into the potatoes as possible, I sprinkle a healthy amount of salt into the cooking water. (Is there such a thing as a healthy amount of salt?) Third, as soon as the potatoes can be handled after cooking, I slice them (leaving the skins on, because there are lots of nutrients there) and put them into some champagne or white wine vinegar, mixed with a little white wine. If I've minced the onions in the food processor, which I usually do for this, I also pour in the onion juice, frequently adding a little prepared horseradish as well. You'll have to rely on taste here, rather than a recipe, as much will depend on how pungent the onions are as well as the sharpness/sweetness of your vinegar. 

The hot potatoes will absorb this mixture, so once things have cooled down a bit, I give it all a taste -- this will help me decide how to make my viniagrette dressing. Are things too puckery bitter? I may want to add a little sugar. Too bland? Maybe a little dijon mustard, another pinch of salt, and some more horseradish. Once those decisions are made, I add the onions, dress the potatoes with a bit of my viniagrette, to which I've added only enough oil to give it body, plus a few twists of freshly ground pepper, and a big handful of those chives that started it all. 

You can eat this potato salad warm or cold, but I like it chilled just a little bit, so the flavors have time to meld. Now, don't you agree: there's nothing like pink potato salad served with cold chicken on a plate of greens to make you think summer. 

Three Cheers for the Greens and Blue

I always want to enjoy springy tastes for Easter dinner, even when the weather is cold and dreary. That was even more true this past Easter, when the temperature hovered around 80 degrees F.  For instance, while I know that asparagus season doesn't happen until June in New England, Easter without roasted asparagus topped with grated Meyer lemon peel just wouldn't be same. (I feel  the same way about the dark chocolate-covered coconut and peanut butter Easter eggs made by the Women's Guild of Schwarzwald United Church of Christ in Jacksonwald, Pa, which thankfully, my brother Glenn sends us every year.)

Fortunately, local lamb and soup made with local celeriac was on the menu. We had some potatoes left over from our winter CSA and I thought briefly about roasting them, but I wanted something a little more "green" and fancy. I'd seen a recipe for a Greens and Potato gratin in the New York Times a while back. It was so tempting, it had been like money burning a hole in my pocket, as my grandmother used to say. (The recipe is part of Martha Rose Shulman's ongoing series of Recipes for Health, which I check out faithfully week after week because she's given me so many great ideas.) One thing I like about this gratin is that it's mostly greens, with just a few potatoes to give it some substance. Also, it's made with low-fat milk, instead of cream, like so many gratins are.

When we checked out our potatoes, we got a bit of a surprise. These were not ordinary potatoes, but Adirondack Blues, with a beautiful bluish purple  skin and flesh that doesn't fade when cooked. (This hybrid was bred by Cornell University potato breeder Walter De Jong in 2003; the skin and flesh have a high level of antioxidants and wonderful rich, nutty taste.) Just the thing to make a greens and potato gratin even more fancy!

While the recipe called for chard, beet greens or kale, we used arugula because we wanted it to have a more spicy flavor. The result was a colorful, delicious treat that I know will be on our table more than once a year at Easter.


Greens and Potato Gratin

Martha Rose Shulman

New York Times, March 8, 2010

This nourishing gratin makes a great vegetarian main dish. In addition to all of those nutrients provided by the greens, you’ll get lots of Bvitamins, vitamin C and potassium from the potatoes.

Ingredients
2 to 2 1/2 pounds greens (such as chard, beet greens or kale), stemmed and cleaned
3/4 pound small potatoes (such as baby Yukon Gold or new potatoes)
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
2 large garlic cloves, minced
1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
3 large eggs
3/4 cup low-fat milk
2 ounces Gruyère cheese, grated (1/2 cup, tightly packed)
1 ounce Parmesan, grated (1/4 cup)

Instructions
1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Oil a 2-quart gratin or baking dish. Place the potatoes and salt to taste in a large pot of water (you’ll be cooking the greens in the same water), and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium, cover partially and boil the potatoes until tender when pierced with a knife, about 20 minutes. Meanwhile, stem the greens and wash the leaves thoroughly, making sure to remove all sand.

2. When the potatoes are done, remove from the water and set aside until cool enough to handle, then cut in 1/2-inch slices. Bring the water back to a rolling boil, and add the greens. Blanch for about two minutes (three or four minutes for kale) until just tender. Remove from the water with a slotted spoon or deep-fry skimmer, and transfer immediately to a bowl of cold water. Drain and squeeze out excess water. Chop coarsely and set aside.

3. Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium heat in a large nonstick skillet. Add the onion and cook, stirring, until tender, about 5 minutes. Stir in the garlic, and cook, stirring, until fragrant, 30 seconds to a minute. Stir in the greens, potatoes and parsley, and gently toss together. Season to taste with salt and pepper, and remove from the heat.

4. In a large bowl, beat together the eggs and milk. Stir in the Gruyère and Parmesan, and add more salt and pepper. Combine everything thoroughly. Taste and adjust seasonings. Scrape into the gratin dish. Drizzle the remaining tablespoon of olive oil over the top, and place in the oven. Bake 30 to 40 minutes, until lightly browned on the top. Allow to sit for 15 minutes before serving.

Yield: Serves six.

Advance preparation: This keeps well for about three days in the refrigerator. You can reheat in a medium oven or serve at room temperature. You can make the dish through step 3 up to a day ahead.

Magic Pan Redux

In the mid 70s, when my sister Robin was studying the harp at Boston University and I was just beginning my career as an advertising copywriter, we lived together on the first block of Marlborough Street. (Trust me, it was not the ritzy address it is today!) Just two blocks over, on Newbury Street, was one of our favorite restaurants, the iconic Magic Pan, scene of many wine-soaked ad lunches and festive dinners with our mother. (I much preferred it to the creperie just a few blocks away on Boylston Street, where the fare was much more authentic, as I discovered to my dismay, the first time I ordered crepes in France.

Like fondue in the 60's, crepes were a dish of an era. Eventually, the Magic Pan went out of business; though we hung on for a while longer, making our own with the crepe maker our father had given Robin one Christmas. It wasn't until many years later, when our parents moved to Portsmouth, and we discovered the small Maine shrimp, that we remembered just how much fun it was to make crepes.

The shrimp reminded me of my favorite Magic Pan crepes, the Coquille St. Jacques, which despite the name were made with shrimp and mushrooms, in addition to scallops. (Despite being gone for nearly 20 years, the Magic Pan has a fanatically loyal fan base of customers and employees who have a web site called the Magic Pan Project, where you can find all sorts of recipes. It's where I learned that the recipe for spinach souffle crepes begins "Take Stouffer's frozen spinach souffle..."!)

Armed with with our trusty crepe maker and an understanding of the basic ingredients: béchamel sauce, sherry, gruyère cheese, we set out to recreate the Magic Pan Coquille St. Jacques crepes -- minus the mushrooms and ironically, the scallops. It was a hit, and we've made them once a year or so ever since.

Robin uses the crepe recipe in From Julia Child's Kitchen, and I use Julia's béchamel recipe as a foundation for making the sauce. Then we briefly saute the shrimp in butter and shallots, fold them into the sauce along with the sherry and the cheese, sprinkle a little parsley and more sauce on top, and voila, the magic is back!

Crepes Au Maine Baby Shrimp
(Makes 12 crepes)

For the crepes: (From Julia Child's Kitchen)
Ingredients
3 "large" eggs broken in a 4-cup measure (or a bowl)
2/3 cup milk
2/3 cup water, plus droplets more if needed
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons dark sesame oil or peanut oil, plus peanut oil for greasing the pan.
1 cup Wondra flour

Note: you'll also need a wire whip, a 5 1/2 inch pan, preferrably non-stick, and 24 wax paper squares, 6 inches to a side to keep the cooked crepes separate.

This recipe makes more crepes than you'll need, which means you need not despair if it takes you a bit to get the hang of making them. You can refrigerate or freeze the leftovers for another use.

Directions
1. Beat eggs to blend whites and yolks, then beat in liquids, salt, and oil; gradually beat in flour. Let stand 20  - 30 minutes (or longer, if need be, in the refrigerator.)
2. Place pan over moderately high heat and brush lightly with oil. (This is usually only necessary for the first crepe.) Test temperature of the pan with a few droplets of water. It should sizzle when ready.
3. Pour 2 tablespoons of batter into a ladle or big spoon, then, grasping the handle of the pan -- use a pot holder or better yet, a heat-proof sleeve -- pour the batter into the center of the pan. Immediately tip the pan rapidly to spread the batter all over the bottom surface. Set directly on the burner -- bubbles should appear immediately, if not the pan is not hot enough.
4. Cook about a half minute or until an edge when lifted is brown underneath; when you shake the pan hard, the crepe will usually come loose. Flip the crepe over on its other side. Cook 15 to20 seconds more. (This is the inside of the crepe, so don't worry if it doesn't brown.) Place a wax-paper square on a plate and slide the crepe onto it and cover with another wax paper square.) Don't worry if the first crepe is not a beauty -- it may take several practice crepes to get the right temperature, batter amount, and technique. Crepes should be no more than 1/16 inch thick, and they should be light and delicate in texture, with enough body to hold together, so they can be rolled and filled. If batter is too thick, you can thin it by beating in more water by droplets. Repeat with remaining batter.

For the sauce (From Julia Child's Kitchen)
(Makes 2 cups)
Ingredients
2 cups milk (heated to just below simmer)
2 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons flour
Salt and pepper to taste
2 ounces gruyère
1 tablespoon dry sherry
(Note: I add a tablespoon of minced shallot as the butter melts)

Directions
In a heavy bottomed saucepan, melt the butter, add shallots (if using), then blend in flour with a wooden spatula. Stir over moderate heat until butter and flour foam together for 2 minutes without coloring more than a buttery yellow. Remove from heat, pour in all the milk at once and beat vigorously with a wire whip to blend roux and liquid. Add salt and pepper. Blend in cheese and sherry. If the sauce is too thick, you can add a little more milk.

For the filling:
Ingredients
1 tablespoon butter
1 lb. Maine shrimp, shelled and cleaned
1 large shallot, minced

Directions
1. Saute the shallots in butter until just soft. Add the shrimp and heat until just warm.

To finish the crepes:
(If desired, you can add 1 oz. of parmesan cheese to the sauce that goes on top of the stuffed and rolled crepes and sprinkle the finished dish with minced parsley.

Directions
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
1. Coat the shrimp mixture with sauce, so it is creamy, but not soupy. Reserving remaining sauce, adding 1 oz. of parmesan, if using.
2. Lay each crepe worst side up. Spread with a genereous amount of filling, keeping in mind how many crepes you are making. Fold  and arrange in a greased ovenproof dish, big enough to hold all crepes in a single layer. Top the crepes with the remaining sauce and heat in oven for ten minutes, then serve, topped with minced parsley, if desired.

Not Just Floundering Around

In his graduate school and bachelor days, my brother-in-law Dave had two requirements for potential roommates. They had to own a stereo and had know how to cook. So it's pretty amusing that Dave has become the kind of person who cures his own bacon and pastrami, makes homemade sausage and pasta, and bakes his own bread. He not only loves to cook, he loves to invent his own recipes. Like he did the other night, for one of his Friday night dinners.

This tradition began when Dave took a new job that was equidistant from Boston and Portsmouth. Friday nights, he would head to Portsmouth after work, stop at the store and start dinner, while my sister Robin and I made the drive up from Boston. When we arrived, dinner preparations were underway, wine would already be poured, and some kind of little pre-dinner snack would be waiting on the kitchen counter. It was very welcoming, and now, whoever gets to Portsmouth first tries to replicate it.

Friday night dinners are usually straightforward -- after all, we want to be finished eating in time to watch Numbers on TV. But in both thought and execution, these meals frequently display an adventurous spirit. Last week, Dave had been talking about making something with the local-caught flounder we've been seeing regularly at Philbrick's Fresh Market in Portsmouth. Fortunately that Friday night, there was not just flounder at Philbrick's, but Maine baby shrimp as well.  Right on the spot, Dave decided he'd make flounder with a shrimp stuffing for dinner. While it sounds elaborate, his preparation was actually quite simple.

First, Dave took three flounder fillets, put some baby shrimp on each one, rolled them up and secured them with some kitchen twine, seasoning them with a little salt and freshly ground pepper. Next, he sweated some chopped scallions in about 4T of butter over low heat, until they started to get soft. Then, he turned the heat in the skillet to medium high and added the flounder fillets.  When they were just browned, he added some vermouth to deglaze the pan and create a little sauce. When the fish was just about cooked, he removed it, added the juice and zest of one lemon, plus a lot of tarragon, maybe 1/8 of a cup to the pan. He swirled it around to combine, then put the fish back into the pan, sprinkled some bread crumbs on top and put into a 425-degree oven to crisp up the bread crumbs.

Served with some roasted potatoes, sauteed kale, and a salad, it couldn't have been better, easier, or healthier. If you live near the NH Seacoast, there are now a number of places to buy locally-caught fish and shrimp. Contact the Yankee Fishermens' Co-op at 603) 474-9850  or Eastman's Fish in Seabrook (603-760-7422) to find the place nearest you. Or look for wild-caught flounder and shrimp at your local seafood market.

Dave's Flounder Stuffed with Maine Baby Shrimp
(Serves 4)

Ingredients
1 pound of baby Maine shrimp, cleaned and shelled. (You can also use regular shrimp, but you should chop and saute them first for about two minutes as they probably won't cook through the way the Maine shrimp will when stuffed in the flounder.)
4 flounder fillets, cleaned and skinned
1 big bunch of scallions, finely chopped, both white and green parts
4 T butter
1/4 cup vermouth or white wine
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
1/8 cup of tarragon, chopped
1/2 cup of fresh bread crumbs (not packaged)
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

2. Put the flounder fillets on a clean surface. Put 1/4 of the baby shrimp on each fillet, roll them up and secure with kitchen twine. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

3. Put 4 T of butter in an oven-proof saute pan big enough to hold all the flounder filets in one layer. Sweat the scallions over low heat until they start to get soft.

4. Turn up the heat to medium high and add the flounder fillets. Cook until just browned on all sides. Add the vermouth and cook until the fish is almost done.

5. Remove fish, add lemon juice, zest, and tarragon to the pan. Swirl to combine.

6. Add the fish back to the pan, sprinkled some bread crumbs on fillet and put into the oven until the bread crumbs are just crisp.

Chili With a Spicy Beet

Late Saturday afternoon, Robin, Dave, and I journeyed from Portsmouth NH to Marlborough, MA to have dinner with our friend, Candace. On the way, we stopped at Heron Pond Farm in South Hampton, NH to pick up our semi-weekly Winter CSA share. From an eating perspective, this CSA has been one of the best things we have ever done. In combination with the Seacoast Grower's winter farmers' markets, we've been able to enjoy fresh-from-the-farm vegetables and eggs all winter, including greenhouse-raised salad greens, endive, and spinach. Of course, we also get our share of root vegetables, so I'm always looking for interesting new ways to use turnips, parsnips, rutabags, and beets. Imagine my pleasure at learning that the excellent chili that Candace served us for supper had a surprising ingredient: red beets.

The recipe, from Good Housekeeping, is easy to make and looks as good as it tastes. It's vegetarian, too, though I suppose if you wanted to, you could add a little ground beef or turkey. The chipolte pepper gives it a nice, mellow heat, but you could probably add some chili powder if you wanted to up the Scoville Scale. Thanks to Candace for sharing the recipe and taking the photos. (And for a fun evening!) This is one chili that's too good to save for Valentine's Day.

Valentine’s Day Red Chili

Good Housekeeping, February 2010

Ingredients
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoons dried oregano
½ teaspoon chipotle chile powder
2 tablespoon vegetable oil
3 large beets (6 to 8 oz. each), trimmed, peeled and chopped
1 jumbo red onion, finely chopped
1 large red pepper, chopped
 Fresh ground pepper, to taste
4 cloves garlic, crushed with press
1 can (28 oz.) fire-roasted diced tomatoes
1 ½ cup cooked or 1 can (15 oz) black beans, rinsed and drained
1 ½ cup cooked or 1 can (15 oz) kidney beans, rinsed and drained
1 ½ cup cooked or 1 can (15 oz) pinto beans, rinsed and drained
1 cup water
1 cup reduced –fat sour cream
¼ cup packed fresh cilantro leaves

Directions
1. In 7- to 8-quart Dutch oven or heavy saucepot, combine cumin, oregano, and chile powder. Cook on medium 1 to 2 minutes or until toasted and fragrant. Transfer to sheet of waxed paper; set aside. In the same Dutch oven, heat oil on medium until hot. Add beets, onion, pepper, and freshly ground black pepper. Cook 15 minutes or until vegetable are tender, stirring occasionally.

2. Add garlic and reserved spice mixture. Cook 2 minutes, stirring constantly. Add tomatoes, beans, and water. Heat to boiling on medium-high. Reduce heat to medium low and simmer 30 minutes, stirring and mashing some beans occasionally. Makes about 9 cups (six servings). Divide among serving bowls and top with sour cream and cilantro.

Rabbit Tales and Other Farmers' Market Goodies

It was a couple of days into my first and only trip to Venice about thirty years ago. I had a friend with a boat and we'd gone off to spend the morning walking the beach at the Lido and visiting the glass factories in Murano. Afterwards, we went to this little family trattoria where my friend was well known. There was no ordering, dishes just appeared at the table. The first course was aragosta,  kind of local lobster, if I remember correctly. The second was coniglio. The taste was rich and wonderful. Thus I became a fan of eating rabbit.

Here in the States, rabbit is the last frontier. You'd never think of serving it to guests without checking with them first, "You do eat rabbit, don't you?" Sadly, the answer is frequently "no", which is too bad, because Barbara Hutchinson of Jocose Farm in Chester, NH raises absolutely wonderful rabbits from French stock. (Barbara shows a flintly, New England disdain for those who are too timid to try rabbit. The bumper sticker on her truck says it all. "Save an endangered species. Eat it." ) Farm-raised rabbits are very tender, quite lean, and high in protein. And their all-vegetable diet makes them healthy to eat.

Last Saturday was the kind of cold winter day that makes you want to stay inside and cook. And so we did, making a baked mustard rabbit for that night's meal and a lamb osso buco for Sunday night dinner  -- both recipes from David Tanis' excellent book, A Platter of Figs and Other Recipes. Tanis, who spends six months a year as executive chef at Chez Panisse, has written this delightful book of simple, yet magnificent seasonal recipes especially for home cooks. 

He serves his rabbit with parsnips epiphany-style, showcasing yet another unfortunately underused ingredient. As fresh parsnips had arrived as part of our Heron Pond winter CSA that afternoon, we made those, too, halving both recipes.

Dave prefers to cut up a rabbit using the technique described by Judy Rodgers in the Zuni Cafe Cookbook. This gives you four different cuts of meat: 2 plump hind legs, 2 smooth, tapered loins, two belly flaps, 2 bony forelegs. He decided to make us a first-course composed salad using sauteed rabbit loins, plus fresh radish greens, radishes, and carrots from our CSA, drizzled with a sherry viniagrette.

For the faint-hearted, the mustard rabbit could be made with chicken. But I suggest you try one of Barbara's rabbits, if available. She can be reached at  603-887-4863 or at jocosefarm@msn.com.

Mustard Rabbit in the Oven
Serves 8
Ingredients
2 rabbits, about 2 1/2  pounds each
Salt and pepper
1/4 cup strong Dijon mustard (Tanis suggest adding a little dry mustard powder as French mustard imported to the U.S. is not as pungent as that sold there.)
2 teaspoons mustard seeds, crushed (optional)
1 3/4 cups heavy cream (Tanis uses homemade Creme Fraiche and includes a recipe in his book, but we just use the heavy cream.)
8 garlic cloves, sliced
1/2 pound thick-sliced bacon or pancetta, cut crosswise into 1/4" lardons
4 bay leaves
thyme branches
sage branches
A little dry white wine or chicken broth, if needed

Directions
1. Ask the butcher to cut the rabbit into six pieces (or do it yourself with a small cleaver -- if you get your rabbit from Barbara, you'll have to do it yourself, but it's actually quite easy, like cutting up a chicken,only with four legs) as follows: cut the saddle into 2 pieces. Divide the hind legs. Cut the foresection in half through the backbone, leaving the forelegs attached to the ribs.  (Or you can use the Judy Rodgers method, like we do. Essentially, you remove the legs and forelegs at the joint. Carefully bone the chest cavity. You will have four legs, two boneless rabbit loins, and two loin "flaps.)
2. Season the rabbit pieces generously with salt and freshly ground pepper and put them in a large bowl. Add the mustard, mustard seeds, cream, garlic, bacon, and bay leaves. Strip the leaves from the thyme and sage branches, chop them roughly (you'll want about 2 tablespoons of each, and add to bowl. With your hands, smear the ingredients all over the rabbit pieces to coat evenly. Cover and let the flavors meld for an hour or two, or overnight in the fridge.
3. Bring the rabbit to room temperature, and preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Place the rabbit pieces, along with every drop of their juicy seasoning, in two shallow oval earthenware baking dishes, just large enough to hold them. (if you're halving the recipe, you only need one dish.)
4. Bake on the middle oven shelf for about 1 hour, turning the pieces as they brown. (You may remove the saddle pieces (the loin) a little earlier, though, if they seem done to keep them from overcooking. Then return at the last minute to heat through.) The rabbit should be nicely browned and the juices quite reduced. If it seems to be browning too rapidly, lay a piece of foil on top, then uncover for the last ten minutes of cooking. If the sauce seems too reduced, splash a little white wine or chicken broth into the bottom of the baking dish and cook for a few mintes longer.
5. Bring the serving vessel to the table and serve each person according to their preference: foreleg, saddle, or hindquarters. Spoon a little sauce over each serving. Accompany with roasted parsnips.

Parsnips, Epiphany-Style
Serves 8
Ingredients
4 to 5 pounds parsnips
Salt and pepper
3 tablespoons olive oil

Directions
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
2. Peel parsnips and quarter them lengthwise. With a paring knife, remove the central core (even small parsnips have a hard core.) If the parsnips are smallish, just trim the ends. If larger, cut them into 3" lengths.
3. Season well with salt and pepper and toss with the olive oil, then install the parsnips in an earthenware dish or roasting pan. Bake for 45 minutes or so, until they are fork tender and lightly browned. They can be cooked in advance and reheated.