There isn’t a whole lot not to like about Welsh Rarebit: cream, cheese, ale, butter, toast . . .
It was missing just one thing — rabbit!
Cole was quick to tell me the dinner was really good, but I could tell he was a little disappointed. I learned after asking a few more questions that he thought we were having Welsh Rabbit on toast for dinner. In other words, I was stuffing Thumper in the crockpot and smothering him in beer, cream, and cheese, and then serving it all up on rye toast. I explained to him it was Welsh RAREBIT. Cole was confused because his grandmother called it Welsh Rabbit, which is also correct. It seems the name may have been coined back in the days when the Welsh were very poor: Only better-off people could afford butcher’s meat, and while in England, rabbit was the poor man’s meat, in Wales, the poor man’s meat was cheese. Cole said a better name would have been cheese on toast. He has a point.
Cole almost had another disappointment regarding a rabbit, but his imagination and his mother’s quick thinking saved a childhood moment.
When Cole was four, we attended the Bar Mitzvah of our best friend’s 13-year-old son. I was a little concerned about how Cole would manage the long service. However, he sat quietly paying close attention to everything that was happening on the bema, while I sat beaming at my beautifully behaved little boy. Towards the end of the service, Cole leaned over and loudly whispered in my ear, “Mommy when is the rabbit going to show up?” Joe, who had overheard the whisper, looked at me mortified and mouthed, “You told him there was a rabbit?” “NO!” I mouthed back. “I said rabbi you idiot.” I smiled at Cole and whispered in his ear that the man blessing our friend’s son was really a big rabbit. Cole immediately saw the rabbit’s tale tucked under the rabbi’s prayer cloth and asked if the cap on the rabbi’s head held down his rabbit ears. Of course it did.
Following the service, heaps of hugs and praise surrounded Cole for being such a good boy. When Cole asked where the rabbit was going, an older man who sat behind us during the service answered Cole with a twinkle in his eyes, telling him the rabbi wanted to hop off and change quickly so he could eat his carrot. I gave the man a big hug before following Cole and Joe as they hopped off to the reception.
The next time I make Welsh Rarebit, I think I will just add a little chicken to it and serve it to Cole with a hop.
Before you ask..and some of you will…I DO NOT WANT TO BE GIFTED ANY RABBITS FROM YOUR GARDEN. ..Thank you…
Odd Loves Company, muse along with me and share about how you have stretched the truth to save the day .