I went on holiday with my ex to her parents cottage in northern France years back. I was in the garden and this old guy appeared over the fence and started chatting away to me in French assuming I understood. I tried to explain I was English etc but he just started chatting again and I remember hearing the word Lapin. He suddenly shook my hand and shuffled off only to return an hour later. He was holding a freshly killed and skinned, still warm rabbit that he was giving us to cook that evening. I was absolutely mortified but managed to smile and thank him before taking it inside. I laid it out on the table and all I could think was it looked like my whippet when he was a puppy!
After a bit off googling recipes we cut it up and browned the pieces in oil before putting in a pot with carrots, onions and red wine and cooked it low and slow. It was absolutely delicious but I could never eat it again.
The old guy had hutches full of them that he regularly killed for dinner, I guess it’s just their way and they don’t look at them as pets like we would.
After a bit off googling recipes we cut it up and browned the pieces in oil before putting in a pot with carrots, onions and red wine and cooked it low and slow. It was absolutely delicious but I could never eat it again.
The old guy had hutches full of them that he regularly killed for dinner, I guess it’s just their way and they don’t look at them as pets like we would.