New blog.  New camera.  First post.

It seemed difficult to decide what to begin with – and then the weather turned ‘autumnal’ and I do like my warm jet streams ..!

So, comfort food.  Obvious.  I’ve been eating Welsh Rabbit all my life.  Perfect for breakfast, brunch, lunch proper, high tea or supper.  I’ve even served it cut into small squares as a Christmas ‘nibble’ with drinks.  What’s not to love about molten cheese with a Worcestershire Sauce kick?  It’s a hug on toast.  I just love it.

Having witnessed the bemused expression on our French exchange student’s face, I ought to state upfront this recipe does not include rabbit.  (And ‘Toad in the Hole’ doesn’t contain toad either …!  Confusing, yes?

My Grandma ‘Dowton’ told me the name was an insult – traditionally rabbit was the meat of the English poor, the suggestion being the Welsh couldn’t afford to even eat that.  Sounds possible.  Or, maybe, it was just what a Welshman had for dinner if he didn’t manage to shoot a rabbit??

Or should it be ‘Rarebit’ and not ‘rabbit’ at all, so the discussion is irrelevant?  (Whatever a ‘rarebit’ might be.)  If historical precedence is important to you, ‘rabbit’ appears first – but both have been used for hundreds of years to describe a cheese on toast dish.  I’m bi-lingual with a childhood induced leaning towards ‘rabbit’.

The truth is, there are countless ways of making Welsh Rabbit.  Some are more like a fondue sauce poured over toast.  Some contain eggs.  If you separate the yolk from the white and whisk to snowy peaks you produce something more akin to a cheese soufflé on toast.  When I first married my husband I discovered he merely mashed up grated cheese with cold milk.  It was a shock!  I put a stop to it.  Then there’s paprika, cayenne ….

For me – I like my Welsh Rabbit to taste of cheese and stay on the toast, hot and bubbly.  Cheddar is most definitely my cheese of choice, and a strong one at that.  I tend to go for Montgomery Cheddar when cooking, but, truthfully, any hard English cheese works just fine.  There are passionate supporters of Lancashire Cheese out there.  I’m braced for the backlash.

The choice of bread is far less important.  Toasted.  Yes.  Both sides.  Personally, I like a ‘country’ loaf, cut thick.  I’ve used a seeded white loaf here which, I guess, may be a blog for a different day.

So … the rabbit.

 I start by warming the milk and the ale together.  Honesty compels me to own the ale is entirely optional.  My mum always used all milk but I like the taste of the ale.  I suspect its inclusion first came about because it was the accompanying drink and, over time, a bit of it got sloshed in the sauce.  Stout and beer are also good.

Obviously the easiest way is to zap it in a microwave, but I don’t have one and use a saucepan.  I go for hand-hot.  Essentially we’re making a béchamel sauce here and there are differing opinions as to whether you need to bother with this stage.  Aside from fridge cold liquid I’m inclined to think it all works fine, but I tend to warm through if I want to flavour the milk (with an onion, bay-leaves) or when I’m combining with another flavour as here.

Once it’s warm, tip the ale and milk mix into a jug and get on with making a thick roux.  If you want to be really technical – after all, the question might come up in a pub quiz sometime and be the difference between winning and losing – it’s a white roux.  That’s the one used to thicken a creamy/milky sauce.

Give yourself a break and use the same pan if you’ve used one to heat the milk/ale.

 Put the unsalted butter into a saucepan and allow it to melt.  Unsalted because it keeps you in control of your seasoning but, again, my mum used salted because it was what she could buy.  So, don’t stress.

 Then add an equal amount of flour.  Keep stirring.  You need to cook the flour ‘out’.  If you don’t your sauce will have a floury taste at the end.  Not the end of the world, perfectly edible, but not so nice.

 Cook until it starts to froth, but not colour.  A few minutes only.  Done.

 With the heat on low, add the liquid in about three goes.  Slowly.  Stirring all the time.  If you try and combine the liquid too quickly you’ll have to put in more work to get a smooth sauce.

Also, if the liquid is too hot and you add it in a splurge it’s possible to melt the butter in the roux which makes it all a bit greasy.  If that happens, take it off the heat and give it a good beat with a wooden spoon.  It will combine.  Have faith.

 When you have a smooth, thick sauce, turn off the heat below the saucepan.

 Then add the grated cheese and freshly ground black pepper.

 Add a dollop of English mustard and a goodly splash of Worcestershire Sauce.  (These are technical terms, you understand.)

Stir.  Allow the cheese to melt into the sauce and leave to cool.  That’s the basic Welsh Rabbit topping done and you can get on with the toast.

Or ‘tweak’.

Some people seem to like a bit of crispy bacon in their ‘Rabbit’.  Or tomato ketchup stirred through, which makes it a ‘Blushing Rabbit’.

 

A bit of leek, washed to get rid of any grit, drained and then sautéed in butter until soft but not coloured, has a nice Welsh vibe.

With or without the additions, it’s now time to spread the Rabbit on your toast.  Go right up to the edges.  That will stop the bread catching when it’s put under the grill/broiler or, if you’re me, top runners of the Aga Roasting Oven.

That’s it.  Wait until the cheese is bubbly and beginning to brown.

 

Eat.  A little watercress and some roasted cherry tomatoes ups your fruit-and-veg intake – besides making the plate look pretty.  May I suggest you drink the left-over ale ..?  Cook’s perks?

 Should you have any mixture left over – pop it in a cling-wrap lined dish for another day and/or midnight snacking.  It’ll keep quite happily in the fridge for a few days.

 It emerges looking like this.  Don’t show anyone you want to impress, just spread it on toast and pop under the grill/broiler.  It makes for the easiest (and tastiest) Mothers’ Day breakfast in bed.  You can get your Welsh Rabbit ready the night before – so it’s edible – and that leaves your loved ones with nothing to do but toast the bread while they make your cup of tea.  What could go wrong?!?

And, once you’ve had enough of that, how about ..

 A newly laid egg, softly poached, and plopped on top turns it into ‘Buck Rabbit’.  Now that really is food fit for the gods.

 And Welsh Rabbit on-the-side makes a bowl of soup feel more like a meal – or so I tell my boys.

 Or you could make a rabbit ‘Rarebit’ because … Well, just because!

Welsh Rabbit – Serves 4

• 50g unsalted butter
• 50g plain flour
• 150ml full-fat milk, warmed
• 150ml ale/beer/stout, warmed, or more milk, if preferred
• 150g mature English Cheddar cheese, grated
• 1 tsp English mustard
• 1 tbsp of Worcestershire Sauce
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 4 thick slices of ‘country’ bread

Over a low heat, melt the butter in a saucepan, then add the flour.  Cook for a few minutes to make a thick roux, stirring all the time.  You don’t want it catching.

Then add the warmed milk and ale – slowly.  Keep stirring until your sauce is thick and smooth.

Turn off the heat.  Add the grated Cheddar and stir until it has melted into the warm sauce.  Next add your solace of Worcestershire sauce and a dollop of English mustard.  Stir.  A few twists of freshly ground black pepper and you’re done.  Leave to cool until it reaches a spreadable consistency.

Lightly toast four thick slices of bread and place on a baking tray.  Spread the Welsh Rabbit on each of the slices, right up to the edges.  Pop under a hot grill (top runners of the Aga Roasting Oven) until bubbling and beginning to spot with brown.

Eat.

 

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