The other “other white meat” is a highly nutritious, sustainable protein, so why aren’t we eating more of it?
PHOTOGRAPHY BY MICHAEL TROUTMAN
For most Americans, rabbits are synonymous with childhood. We wear clothes adorned with fuzzy bunnies, while children’s literature and cartoons are rife with anthropomorphized characters like Thumper, The Velveteen Rabbit and Bugs Bunny.
“Unlike much of Europe, America is a chicken-eating nation partly due to the ease of butchering,” says Rob James, who raises meat rabbits at Pescadero’s Corvus Farm. “The desirable breast meat is easy to obtain, but you can’t discount the fact that we took what was once a food staple and made it a very popular pet, as well.”
Despite its widespread consumption in much of the world (according to British industry journal, New Foods, China and North Korea consume the most rabbit meat, worldwide), rabbit hasn’t been widely consumed in the United States since the mid-20th century. By contrast, the ancient Romans began breeding rabbits for meat and fiber— a practice known as cuniculture—in the 2nd century B.C.
Rabbit wasn’t always a controversial protein in this country. Wild rabbit and hare were consumed by Native American tribes, and then the first colonists brought European rabbits to America and bred the animals for meat. By the turn of the 20th century, rabbits were commonplace on homesteads. The meat didn’t fall out of favor until the 1960s, when beef and other livestock production increased.
Today, many Americans are aghast at the idea of eating rabbit because the animals are now typically viewed as pets, although there are also other factors (see “Snuggle Bunnies,” below).
SNUGGLE BUNNIES
Humans are hardwired to find infants and animals with juvenile features (a large, round head and eyes, small nose, plump body) appealing. Austrian ethologist and Nobel Prize winner Konrad Lorenz introduced the concept of kindchenschema (baby schema) in the early 1940s. The National Library of Medicine defines this as “a set of infantile physical features…that is perceived as cute and motivates caretaking behavior in other individuals, with the evolutionary function of enhancing offspring survival.” Rabbits, like many other species or animal breeds—think baby sloths or pugs—retain these juvenile characteristics into adulthood, a trait known as neoteny. So, the next time you balk at eating an atypical protein, you just might be triggered by an innate—and primeval—emotional response.
Yet, of the 300 domestic rabbit breeds worldwide, many are used for meat, including the New Zealand, Californian and Flemish giant.
It’s a shame that rabbit meat triggers so many people, because it’s lean, delicious, healthy and a highly sustainable protein source. Unlike hare, which is gamey and darker in color, rabbit is a delicate white meat with the highest percentage of protein per pound of any domesticated livestock or poultry animal. It’s also high in omega-3 fatty acids, vitamins and minerals like potassium, phosphorus and magnesium.
Compared to other livestock, rabbits also have a smaller carbon footprint. They require less food, water and space, and reproduce rapidly year-round. Their manure is also coveted, because it’s higher in nutrients and can be applied directly to plants without burning them.
Despite their attributes, however, rabbits aren’t conducive to commercial production. They have fragile immune systems and are very sensitive to heat and environmental conditions. Even under ideal conditions, many rabbits make poor mothers, and can refuse to nurse or even cannibalize their young if stressed.
“I recall an old-time breeder telling me, ‘Rabbits are one of the hardest things to do right, and one of the easiest to do wrong,’” says James, who started raising the animals while living on a rural property in Los Gatos. “But they were and are a homestead staple because they’re so sustainable. A single adult rabbit will produce in its lifetime nearly an equal amount of meat as a cow, but with just a few square feet of space and a fraction of the water.”
James notes that the majority of rabbit consumed in the U.S. is sourced from Amish farms in the Midwest, or Canada. “If you’re buying local rabbit—or any meat—you have the opportunity to actually ask the farmer how it was raised.”
DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
James, a former Navy journalist and English teacher, initially began raising rabbits for his own consumption, but soon began receiving requests for meat from chef friends. In 2020, he had the opportunity to become a tenant farmer on a 30-acre parcel that was formerly part of a Brussels sprout farm at Año Nuevo. “I feel more fulfilled and like I’m making a difference as a farmer,” says James. “I also want people to be more conscientious about their meat. A $5 Costco rotisserie chicken is neither humane, nor sustainable.”
When James first took possession of his plot, the soil was depleted of nutrients, the result of 70 years of monocropping. Today, the land is recovering under a regenerative plan that includes rabbits, game birds, pigs and sheep. “Corvus is a real gem of a farm. Rob and his business partner Peggy (Switzer) really care about what they’re growing,” says Saison executive chef Richard Lee. “They don’t take shortcuts.”
Corvus produces Champagne d’Argent and other heritage breeds, as well as suitable crosses. They are fed an alfalfa-based pellet augmented with hay and pasture grasses.
The animals are housed in elevated hutches (“It’s almost impossible to raise rabbits any other way,” says James) to protect them from predators and diseases like tularemia and Pasteurella. Each enclosure is three-by-three feet, which allows the animals to stand on their hind legs; they’re also given time outside to play, forage and engage in other natural behaviors.
Most of James’ wholesale accounts are Michelin-starred restaurants like San Francisco’s Saison and Quince, and Carmel’s Aubergine and Chez Noir. Chez Noir chef/coowner and 2024 James Beard nominee Jonny Black has been using Corvus Farm products since the restaurant opened in late 2022.
“We strive to have a restaurant with a real sense of place and provide an experience that can only exist here,” says Black. “But I also feel that sourcing from local farms is the right way to cook. We got to know Rob while researching farmers, and I took my staff to Corvus. Nice guy, great operation, so we use as much from him as possible. He’s right here; as a chef, why would I not buy from him?”
At Chez Noir, rabbit appears in various iterations on the constantly changing prix fixe menu. Black says he’s particularly fond of marinating the meat in buttermilk and deep frying it or pan-roasting the saddle (the main body, minus the head and legs). Another presentation calls for making a forcemeat of the legs, shoulders and liver, and stuffing the deboned, pancetta-wrapped saddle with the mixture. “It’s a rabbit hot dog type of situation,” says Black. “Rabbit is so tender and flavorful, people are surprised how good it is once they try it. Any chicken recipe will translate beautifully.”
At Jack O’Neill Restaurant, executive chef Gus Trejo maintains the same philosophy as Chez Noir. “We’re a community agriculture-based establishment,” he says. “Our menu is based on what’s available and in season here. When I first put rabbit on the menu, it was a tough sell, but I have an obligation to honor Rob and the animal, and all the work that went into raising it. I can cook anything, but if my staff isn’t educated or they don’t care, we can’t sell it. Now, people come back for rabbit specials.”
Growing up, Trejo spent summers with family in Portugal. His grandmother would cook ingredients sourced from her small town, or whatever his uncles—avid hunters and fishermen—procured. “It seems like rabbit was always available, because we’d catch them eating the cabbage in her garden,” he says.
Those experiences informed Trejo’s ethos as a chef. “When I started at Dream Inn in 2020, my goal was to work collaboratively with local farmers. I didn’t want it to be transactional,” he says. To facilitate such relationships, Trejo celebrates local proteins like Corvus Farm rabbit with speciesspecific Game Dinners, determining the preparation based upon what his farmers bring him. “None of our menu specials are premeditated,” he says. “Rob’s rabbit is amazing, so there’s no need to cover it up with thick sauces. We keep it simple because we can.”
RABBIT 101
Rabbit is classified as poultry by the USDA, and like chicken, marketed by its age and weight. Fryers are eight to 10 weeks of age and yield three pounds of meat, while roasters are between 12 to 16 weeks and yield five to seven pounds. Stewers are animals over six months of age weighing more than seven pounds, ideal for low and slow methods like braising. James’ wholesale rabbits are processed at Rabbit Barn in Turlock. If you’d like to purchase the meat for home use, Corvus Farm offers a private membership option for sales direct to consumer. For more information, visit corvusfarm.com.
Like Trejo, Soerke Peters, chef/owner of Pacific Grove’s Mezzaluna Pasteria & Mozzarella Bar, grew up eating rabbit. In his native Germany, his family raised the animals for meat. “I can remember my grandfather saying, ‘Let’s go get lunch,’ and he’d bring back a rabbit for my grandmother to cook. We usually had it braised with root vegetables and mashed potatoes, or deep fried.”
Peters sources his rabbits from a small farm in San Juan Bautista and typically features it in a seasonally changing pasta, like a spring saffron mafaldine with mushrooms, English peas and fava beans.
At Saison, Lee focuses on utilizing every part of the animal, curing and hot smoking the belly, braising the front legs, and cooking the loin and hind legs in the hearth, while the bones and trim are used for sauces. He recommends purging organs like the heart and kidneys in ice water or milk overnight, before sautéing them and serving them with a mushroom cream sauce augmented with a bit of Madeira or sherry to balance any funky flavors. The milder liver is excellent when pan fried or used in pâté.
Rabbit isn’t a forgiving meat, adds James, but the flavor is universal no matter the cut. “Think of rabbit as a three-pound chicken breast,” he says. “The texture and cooking method will differ, however, depending upon the cut. I love the forelegs the most, because you get these concentrated morsels of meat that force you to slow down and enjoy your meal.”
While cultural factors may prevent rabbit from regaining its former popularity in the U.S., Corvus Farm is the very definition of a small, diversified, regenerative agricultural operation, and James a staunch advocate of sustainable, if esoteric, livestock and poultry production.
“Rabbit is a difficult market,” he says. “I need partners like these chefs to collaborate with me, and I trust them to do right by all of my products. It doesn’t matter if they’re featured at a 3-star restaurant or a diner, I’m proud to have it on the menu.”
Laurel Miller is a food, spirits and travel writer and the former editor of Edible Aspen. She grew up on a California ranch and has been writing about regenerative agriculture for over 20 years. When she’s not tethered to her laptop, Miller enjoys farmers markets and any trip that requires a passport. She’ll take a Mission burrito over a Michelin star, any day.
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