A Rabbit! A Rabbit! A Raw Ceviche Rabbit!
Step One — Questing for Rabbit
Go to the woods, may I suggest Sherwood Forest. Crouch down in the undergrowth, furtively stepping over thistles. And then pounce! Wrestle your bunny to the ground!
Step Two — The Fight
Keep Wrestling! Don’t think about snapchatting about the wrestle, just wrestle. The bunny will soon give in to your snuggles and wistfully sail away to bunny heaven. In bunny heaven, bunny will prance the skies, eating oysters and drinking Veuve. She will befriend other species, forming a cabal with an iguana, a dog, and a Portuguese Man O’War. Don’t worry, it was definitely an organic bunny. Let’s call her Dani.
You continue to walk through the wood, Dani sleeping permanently in your arms. If she snores, she probably needs a bit of encouragement to reach her next career goal of sky prancing and bivalve consumption. Just get out your taser and nudge this dear relative of Flopsy and Mopsy into the afterlife.
Step Three — The Invasion of the Citrus
Turning a corner amongst the pine trees, you find yourself in a clearing, a veritable meadow of vulnerability and openness. Just as you step out into the sunshine, lemons come rushing towards you. Droves of lemons stampeding from the innards of the wood. Rinds thick with zest, oozing citrus, arrogant in their acidity. These are Type A lemons that have eaten competitors to jump up the line. Just as they reach your side, they start to pitch themselves for use in the cooking:
“Choose me! I have a varied skill-set in raw food dishes, and am the juiciest ol’lemon you ever did see!”
“Fuck him, he pairs poorly with game! Choose me, Lawrence, Lemon Knight of the Wood! I shall zest up the rabbit like no other.”
“Surely, you have to pick me! I will squirt on your thorned feet if not! I coerce you, I demand you choose me, Wizard Lemsip!”
“Look, I knew Dani personally, okay, I know how she would have wanted to be presented and consumed. Just look over here mate, and let’s get this meat-market-mentality over and done with.”
This cacophony continues for some hours. Enjoy it! Put Dani down for a bit if you need to, put her on ice. Pop a Corona, rustle up a quick guac, and listen to the pitches. Pretend you’re Pepsi and the agencies are fighting over you. Then, to keep the lemons guessing, accept a strange mix of pitches, of promises and pledges regarding the lemons’ worth for the dish. The rejected lemons will turn themselves away from you, and swagger back into the undergrowth, perplexed but determined to take more online classes on salesmanship.
There’s only one more ingredient that is vital for our ceviche — corned beef mayo. For this step, we must head back to a town or township and barter with the people of the shops to obtain our precious commodities. So, come with me, to Walled Mart.
Step Four — The Market of the Dead Souls
You enter Walled Mart, and a migraine bites at you from the back of your head. It tears at your hair, inflames your pupils, and darkens your demeanor. You pop Dani in a trolley, facing away from you obviously, and tell the lemons to pipe down. These dastardly citrus beasts are hissing at all the ‘pesticide-d’ lemons on display in the Mart, sarcastically notifying the store fruit of their personal dimensions and forest fame.
Leaving the fresh fruit area to the sobs of tables of citrus, a man is doing tastings of his new and improved corned beef mayo recipe. On a water cracker you sample his offering and are taken aback by the intricacy of the mouthful, the depth of flavor-al notes.
“Wow,” you say to yourself but also out loud, “this could well become the Hummus of 2020. I must invest in this man by buying his offering for my traditional ceviche recipe…” 10 cans of the crap later, you find yourself on the T6 bus, heading back to the shed to cook this family staple.
Step 6 — The Shed: Dun Dun Duuuun!
As you unlock the shed, Dani gets to work on preparing herself for you. Agreed, she is dead. But rabbits have this terrific knack of dead utility, whereby they skin themselves for you and hang up their bunny costumes next to your flat cap and furs. Sprawling herself on a chopping board, Dani motions to come hither. Next to your moldy seafood jambalaya from a few weeks ago you pick up your cleaver and get to work on divvying up this fine rabbit. You chop and chunk, and very soon begin to see plates of diced game appear before your peepers.
The lemons are desperate to get in on the action. While you have been cleavering the corpse of Dani, they have been prepping themselves for you, rubbing your Microplane against their backs and derrières, just like ‘Baloo and Tree’ in The Jungley Book. They actually have a song, ‘Zest, zest, zest! Off my back and off my bum you ignoble rancid pest! In the sauce off you go to marinade and brine. Zest I’m so happy that you’re gone, and that I’m not a lime!’
Cover the rabbity chunks with zest and juice. Dice the rest of that red onion you have next to your capers in the fridge and chuck that in too. Place in the fridge to marinate.
Step 7 — Entrails
Keeping the entrails is an absolute must. They can be puréed with chickpeas, parsley and elderflower cordial for a good chicken wing dip. The skulls can be readily discarded, a truly redundant part of the carcass.
Step 8 — Serve
As a quick and crafty appetizer, serve the entrails purée with some tortilla chips, or celery for your boring guests. Meanwhile, play some Shostakovich for improved ambiance. Once the chit-chat has reached an appreciable volume, wow them by bringing in the ceviche on a platter with dollops of corned beef mayo evenly spaced throughout. What a delight.
And for dessert, I hear you mutter? But of course Walled Mart brand ice cream, ideally pistachio. Why make an effort now when you’ve barely lifting a finger preparing Dani?!
Ciao.
