Chapter 4: Rabbits
That first night, Kike bought a rabbit. He went and took it from the rabbit pens that are in the big warehouse just above our room, and lets it loose in our room. I found it later when I went back inside to sort my stuff out. It was kind of funny to see a rabbit there hopping around my room. I picked it up and played with it until he came in.
“Oh, you’ve found our dinner.” Uh oh. I was already attached to the poor thing (although it was pretty fat) and it was going to be tough to see it go.
“Dinner? How do you cook it?”
“Kill it, skin it, put it in the pan.” Although, honestly, I only caught the “kill it” part at the time. I would soon find out the other two parts.
So in about an hour later, when most everyone had gone home, I heard him calling my name. I run out to see him down in the courtyard holding the rabbit by the neck with two fingers and a hammer by the other three in his left hand, my Gerber utility knife on his lap which, along with his chest and arms, is covered by a long painting smock, and the rabbit’s furiously kicking back feet in his right hand. Without warning he lifts up the hammer and BAM! hits the rabbit on the head which causes quite the blast of sound. I jolt back, not expecting to see that coming. The rabbit shudders for a few seconds and his head falls to his chest. Not used to such violence, I reach with a funny face, and then turn squeamish when I see him pick up the knife to cut open the rabbit.
He cuts at the neck, pushing hard. But because it is all on his lap, he has to use a lot of caution not to cut himself. He is really giving it quite the go, me holding back covering one eye and squinting with the other to not have to see any squirt of blood or anything extra gross. He is cutting and cutting on the underside of the neck but I still see no red. He stops and breathes out heavily. “This thing is way harder to cut that I imagined.” He starts to cut again when suddenly the rabbit pops away and goes crazy. Our dinner is shaking and kicking and we are screaming like girls. Kike grabs the hammer and BAM BAM BAM again knocks him on the head and again it shudders and falls limp. We laugh and laugh and Kike gets back to cutting. We are completely on edge. Cut cut cut cut nothing. Kike looks at me for advice when again the rabbit jumps to life and we scream and I go hide and come back in an hour where the now furless rabbit lies in a frying pan.
We eat it straight, with tortillas. This is my first true meal with tortillas. I start to eat the meat right off the bone, but Kike stops me, heats up tortillas over the open gas flame on the stove in the kitchen, and puts them in a little hand stitched napkin, or washcloth or whatever it is. I guessed that it was to keep them warm (I guessed right). I finally pulled the meat off the bone with my teeth and dropped them into the tortilla, which I then ate.
It was party showing Kike I wanted to try and partly recognizing the relevance of the tortilla. You could afford to have a small meal of meat or vegetables or whatever that tasted good, and just add tortillas which fill you up and keep you healthy. This was a great service to both the Aztecs back in the day as well as anyone who has little money now. You could always life a simple life with tortillas and a little salt.
We grew a plant in Las Rosas at the time called “amaranth.” As opposed to corn, amaranth grows naturally in just about any soil. Heck, it can grow wild. It gives little seeds that when ground looks a lot like flour. My buddy Nick, studying Botany, did a little research for me. As it turns out, amaranth is a terribly boring, basic plant that gives a healthy crop without any complications or caring for it. The Aztecs used it for everything, which, unfortunately included mixing it with human blood sacrifices for tasty munchy munches. Of course the Spaniards would have nothing of the sort, and so banned amaranth from being used for anything. And so to this day, it remains unpopular even if it would be much healthier, easier, quicker, and just as simple to use as corn.
“Oh, you’ve found our dinner.” Uh oh. I was already attached to the poor thing (although it was pretty fat) and it was going to be tough to see it go.
“Dinner? How do you cook it?”
“Kill it, skin it, put it in the pan.” Although, honestly, I only caught the “kill it” part at the time. I would soon find out the other two parts.
So in about an hour later, when most everyone had gone home, I heard him calling my name. I run out to see him down in the courtyard holding the rabbit by the neck with two fingers and a hammer by the other three in his left hand, my Gerber utility knife on his lap which, along with his chest and arms, is covered by a long painting smock, and the rabbit’s furiously kicking back feet in his right hand. Without warning he lifts up the hammer and BAM! hits the rabbit on the head which causes quite the blast of sound. I jolt back, not expecting to see that coming. The rabbit shudders for a few seconds and his head falls to his chest. Not used to such violence, I reach with a funny face, and then turn squeamish when I see him pick up the knife to cut open the rabbit.
He cuts at the neck, pushing hard. But because it is all on his lap, he has to use a lot of caution not to cut himself. He is really giving it quite the go, me holding back covering one eye and squinting with the other to not have to see any squirt of blood or anything extra gross. He is cutting and cutting on the underside of the neck but I still see no red. He stops and breathes out heavily. “This thing is way harder to cut that I imagined.” He starts to cut again when suddenly the rabbit pops away and goes crazy. Our dinner is shaking and kicking and we are screaming like girls. Kike grabs the hammer and BAM BAM BAM again knocks him on the head and again it shudders and falls limp. We laugh and laugh and Kike gets back to cutting. We are completely on edge. Cut cut cut cut nothing. Kike looks at me for advice when again the rabbit jumps to life and we scream and I go hide and come back in an hour where the now furless rabbit lies in a frying pan.
We eat it straight, with tortillas. This is my first true meal with tortillas. I start to eat the meat right off the bone, but Kike stops me, heats up tortillas over the open gas flame on the stove in the kitchen, and puts them in a little hand stitched napkin, or washcloth or whatever it is. I guessed that it was to keep them warm (I guessed right). I finally pulled the meat off the bone with my teeth and dropped them into the tortilla, which I then ate.
It was party showing Kike I wanted to try and partly recognizing the relevance of the tortilla. You could afford to have a small meal of meat or vegetables or whatever that tasted good, and just add tortillas which fill you up and keep you healthy. This was a great service to both the Aztecs back in the day as well as anyone who has little money now. You could always life a simple life with tortillas and a little salt.
We grew a plant in Las Rosas at the time called “amaranth.” As opposed to corn, amaranth grows naturally in just about any soil. Heck, it can grow wild. It gives little seeds that when ground looks a lot like flour. My buddy Nick, studying Botany, did a little research for me. As it turns out, amaranth is a terribly boring, basic plant that gives a healthy crop without any complications or caring for it. The Aztecs used it for everything, which, unfortunately included mixing it with human blood sacrifices for tasty munchy munches. Of course the Spaniards would have nothing of the sort, and so banned amaranth from being used for anything. And so to this day, it remains unpopular even if it would be much healthier, easier, quicker, and just as simple to use as corn.
posted by Patrick McEvoy at 12:43 PM
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