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Patty the Bunny
The Dutch army, a Thai named Bunny and the greatness of the
Wild Rabbit
by GUSTAVO ARELLANO |
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Decades ago, my friend’s father joined
the Dutch army. As part of the training, each soldier had to
raise a baby bunny and give it a name. My friend’s father
named his Cruyff, after the Ajax Amsterdam soccer-club
superstar. Cruyff spent his days in a large pen with other
rabbits of the unit, doing the things rabbits do.
Cruyff grew plump and furry. My friend’s father groomed
Cruyff, fed him, bathed him, occasionally shared a cot with
him—and, one winter morning, purposefully broke the rabbit’s
neck with his hands. That night, the young Dutch cadet
prepared rabbit stew for his fellow enlistees. It needed
salt.
I remembered this story as I dined at the Wild Rabbit, a
well-kept restaurant located on two levels of Costa Mesa’s
Back Bay Center shopping plaza. The place lured me with the
promise of rabbit, a meat unfairly maligned in this country.
It’s not the taste of rabbit—dusky, a bit sweet and usually
bathed in sumptuous sauces—that repulses people; it’s the
creature’s cuteness. Postindustrial America has never warmed
to the idea of eating mammals they could keep as pets, and
so we leave the rabbits, guinea pigs, dogs and deer to
ethnic and upper-crust eaters.
This is the same combination you encounter at the Wild
Rabbit. The owner is Bunny Bowers—yep, her real name.
Originally from Thailand, she also runs a Wild Rabbit in
Redlands (since 1993) but opened her Costa Mesa eatery in
February. Business is a bit slow right now, thanks to
massive construction on Irvine Avenue, but regulars dine at
least two and three times a week.
Bowers designed her newest locale with the Balboa Bay Club
set in mind. To enter, you must climb two flights of stairs.
Inside, you sit in individual booths with flowers, mirrors
and lace. Warm, low lighting casts soft shadows across the
faces of visitors. Bowers—always charming, always dressed in
a tuxedo—takes orders, serves wine and brings out each
course. It feels like the English countryside, it does.
A casual diner may believe the menu is unimaginative, given
the august surroundings. A glance initially confirms those
suspicions: most of the Wild Rabbit’s entrées veer between
lunchtime Americana (sandwiches and hamburgers) and such
supper-club standards as steak Diane, salmon Provençal and
beef Wellington. But Bowers expands on these dishes without
compromising their integrity. The flame-broiled pork
tenderloin, classically marinated with olive oil, garlic and
rosemary, also comes with a dab of sweet soy ginger sauce.
She includes a bracing sweet-and-sour sauce alongside the
usual honey mustard and ketchup for the sturdy, flavorful
beer-battered fries.
And Bowers sneaks in some Asian-inspired appetizers amongst
the calamari and fried zucchini, as well: Thai pork sausages
bursting with herbs, Thai egg rolls fried to a light crunch,
and a sour roughy soup with celery and tomato that has a zip
reminiscent of tom kah yah. For such a small restaurant, the
Wild Rabbit displays as much panache as the trendiest cooks
down the coast in South County’s mega-resorts.
Everything shines at the Wild Rabbit, but I will forever
return for the rabbit. I munched on the Bubba Chicken
sandwich on my first lunch visit: a tantalizing combination
of grilled crab cake and a luscious breast of chicken. It
was tasty—until I realized there was a rabbit burger on the
menu. I’d never had bunny in patty form, so I decided to
return for dinner.
But the rabbit burger wasn’t on the dinner menu; Bowers had
replaced it with a full platter of the little critters. It
arrived as three long, pale, grilled strips that snaked in
and out of a bed of sautéed onions, bell peppers and tomato
bits. The vegetables were moist, sweet and
plentiful—memorable but nothing extraordinary. No,
innovation came via the rabbit: chewy and aromatic with
light brushes of thyme seasoning. The soy-ginger marmalade
spread across the plate’s perimeter added spice.
I offered a slice to my dining partner. It was probably a
mistake to have told her the story of Cruyff a few minutes
before; she declined, insisting her peppercorn-crusted
Australian rack of lamb was filling enough. I persisted.
Finally, she knifed off a small portion of rabbit and
chewed. An uneasy smile spread across her face. “Wow,” she
said, before adding, “Well, this guarantees I’m going to
hell.” We continued eating, and I muttered a quick prayer to
Cruyff, apologizing for the pleasure of his flesh.
THE WILD RABBIT, 2675 IRVINE AVE., STE. D, COSTA MESA, (949)
574-4995;
WWW.THEWILDRABBITRESTAURANT.COM.
OPEN MON.-SAT., 11 A.M.-2:30 P.M., 5-10:30 P.M. DINNER FOR
TWO, $40-$60. BEER, WINE |
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