Pea-roasted rabbit stew
When I was a kid I used to spend most summers on my grandad's farm. My cousins would regularly go out with an air rifle and come back with a couple of rabbits for the pot. My father was determined to show that he was no city-type and could hunt like the rest. So he took me and the air rifle and we stepped out into the fields. There were hundreds of rabbits, but they all ran away before we could get within range. But my father was determined: we couldn't return empty-handed. So we kept at it. Eventually we saw a large, stupid looking rabbit, sitting up by a fence post. We crawled through the mud, getting closer to the rabbit, which had still not moved. Eventually we were close enough, if muddy, and my dad lined up the gun. He aimed, he shot, the rabbit fell over. Ecstatic we rushed over to claim our prize. Which was a large, rabbit-shaped clod of earth. We sloped home, dejected, and muddy.
(Smale is stuffed, Mon 2 Apr 2012, 12:23, Reply)