This recipe may sound a bit odd (though it shouldn't) - but it's easily my favourite pasta dish – if you don't count linguine con vongole. It's also one of those storecupboard staples that produces a fantastic yet sophisticated meal, easily and cheaply.
I've named it after a similar dish at Chalk Farm restaurant Marine Ices on which my version is - dare I whisper it? - an improvement.
I don't make bread. The sort of people who make their own bread, as we all know, are either self-important Islington twats who nest amongst ethnic cushions, French films and heavy-framed glasses with plain lenses, or hut-dwelling field folk who breed spaniels and knit their own muesli. Not me.
This year, I finally put my foot down. At the Christmas meal my friends and I arrange every year, there was no way I would settle for any more of that rehydrated sawdust stuffing - I want meat, and plenty of it.
This stuffing worked well, so I thought I'd share the recipe in case anyone is stumped for something to a bit of extra flavour to the ol' turkey.
What are hares? Once familiar to the point of ubiquity, mythically resonant to the point of legendry and eaten to the point of … well, eaten, these beasts are now scarcely recognised. Easter bunny? It was really a hare, you know.
Respected and feared for their solitary nature and - I suspect - their strange, staring eyes, hares across the world are immortalised in fairytale as madmen, tricksters and messengers of the moon. They are noble, weird, and a rare winter treat.
Adieu for a while, dear DDDers - I am dragging my sorry carcass to the food mecca that is the Deep South.
Hopefully, I will return with many a tale of soft-shell crabs and po'boys, grits, gumbo and lashings of Southern style - and I have given myself a special brief of seeking out the weirdest groceries the US has to offer, which I'll review on my return.
If anyone has recommendations for Louisiana (chiefly New Orleans) and Alabama, tell me quick.