Broiled Rabbit & Vintage Port

Since starting this blog two weeks ago I have come up with a few ground rules.

1) Restaurants that we frequent can't be written up the same way as new ones. Our familiarity with these establishments changes the experience and this must show in the writing for fairness and accuracy.

2) Only new meals are rated- Friends have asked why I don't write about the great meal at wherever and I tell them because the blog doesn't go back in time.

3) I won't blog a restaurant friends take us to. I don't want dinner to revolve around my experience. I want to enjoy my friends.

4) I won't rate someone else's cooking (friends, family, etc.)

That said, I am about to sidestep rule number four by simply describing and not assessing.

I've had a few influences in my love of food, drink, and cooking, but one person stands out as the man who was probably the most influential.

My Uncle John, who has been hosting and preparing family gatherings for the past two decades, is an incredibly accomplished home cook whose menus and meals put many a costly night out to shame.

Chrissie and I look forward to nights out with my aunt and uncle. They are great company, not only because we all share a fondness for food, but because they are genuinely good people.

But enough feel good writing, if you are reading this you either already know about Aunt Nancy and Uncle John or you have stumbled upon my blog and want to read about food and drink.

Last night we were invited over for a Spanish evening.

We arrived at Uncle John's house just before six thirty and were met with cocktails and a tapas presentation of jamon Serrano and an assortment of Spanish cheeses. My aunt and uncle have been vacationing in Spain for some time now and have developed quite the affinity for the Spanish culinary culture. The cheeses, ham, and olives were all imported from Spain and immediately took Chrissie and me back to our visit there two years ago.

The heavy eating began when Uncle John put four terracotta cazuelas on the stove top. Each contained olive oil, slices of garlic, tiny whole hot peppers, and a bay leaf. When the cazuelas bubbled they were turned into the traditional gambas al ajillo, or garlic shrimp, with the addition of half dozen beautiful large shrimp each.

At this point of the evening, bottles of cold vinho verde were freely flowing. Vinho verde, a young, light, effervescent wine is a favorite of mine and complements the depth of Spanish flavors very well.

The main course of the evening was broiled rabbit. When we arrived we were met by a high walled baking sheet containing the butchered and marinating pieces of two rabbits waiting to go under the broiler for an initial cooking. They got their first taste of heat as we ate cheese and then the rabbit rested while we ate the gambas.

The rabbits went back into the oven to finish cooking while Uncle John prepared the side dishes of sauteed mushrooms, white asparagus with an orange garlic sauce (al aiolio de naranja), and patatas bravas (fierce potatoes, a pan fried potatoe served with a flavorful hot sauce).

Dinner was finished with a St. James almond tart and poached pears. Before dessert was served Uncle John started talking about a bottle of Port he'd been thinking about opening. I was sent to the basement to retrieve what turned out to be a vintage bottle older than I am.

I returned to the table with a 1970 Fonseca Vintage Port and I knew my uncle must love me. The bottle was in good condition and I was instructed to carefully open it. Removing the metallic casing around the neck revealed a wax coated cork. There had been some evaporation and the wine could be smelled through the softened barrier.

I was terrified as I introduced the cork pull to the bottle. It took almost no pressure to insert the screw and I was very confident when I went to pull. My confidence was rewarded with a cork that left its bottom centimeter in the bottle. I attempted to retrieve the final piece with both the corkpull and a thin knife, but I was unsuccessful and the cork splintered into the wine. A fine strainer caught the particulate as I poured and we were ready to enjoy.

Chrissie and I both enjoy Port. Usually she will have a few sips of mine and that will be enough to sate her taste. Last night, she helped herself to a few pours. We talked and drank for some time until there were only a few inches left in the bottle. It probably would have been interesting to save the remainder for the next day and see how the flavor opened, but it didn't stand a chance against us. We finished the bottle, realized it was almost midnight, and concluded the night.